a/n Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. A lot of you commented on Dawn’s reactions. Well, all the credit for that one goes to Tasha. And for those who asked about it, I’m working on Destiny again. I should have something to post within a few days.

 

The sound of a heart beat seemed to echo in the subterranean room.
A few seconds later, another beat echoed just as strongly in the empty room.
Several beats later, the sound of a deep breath echoed in the crypt.
Eyelids fluttered before silver eyes finally opened to their surroundings.

 

Upon awakening, Buffy’s first thought was Thank you God, I’m not dead.   The second one was, Wait a minute…not dead?  What the hell happened?   She squinted, trying to remember what had happened to her.  Memories rushed to her: pain, her blood flowing while her body was violated, and her limbs paralyzed by whatever the hell had been injected into her.

 

Buffy remembered calling for Spike and his arrival moments before she took her last breaths.  She remembered being able to finally open her eyes and look at him.  She had seen his torment, and remembered giving him permission to end this.  So, why was her heart still beating?  She could still taste his blood, rushing down her throat.  She should be one of the living dead, but she could hear her heart and felt her lungs working to supply the air that she still needed.  Something was wrong.

 

She carefully lifted her head, unsure of what she would see or how her body would react.  Granted, she hadn’t seen what her body had looked like before, but if what she had felt was any indication, it must have been a mess of cuts and bruises.  She looked around the room, not quite ready to look at herself yet.  She had never been down there before but she assumed that this was the lower level of Spike’s crypt.   She knew that there was a lower level because she had seen Spike climb a ladder several times, but she had never seen it.  It was dark, lighted only by a few candles that were placed on different surfaces.

 

Buffy figured she was sitting on Spike’s bed, and the coziness of her surroundings surprised her for a minute.  Then again, there was so much she didn’t know about the blond vamp that she shouldn’t be surprised.  As she looked around, she knew he wasn’t there, the telling tingles absent.

 

She wondered at what point they had become Spike’s tingles.  She knew that she was able to identify his particular signature, a bit like she used to be able to tell Angel from any other vampire.  Spike’s presence always seemed to be stronger to her than Angel’s had ever been.  And now, I’m trying to delay this. She thought, dejectedly.

 

Gathering her courage, Buffy looked down to find herself clothed in one of Spike’s seemingly endless collection of black t-shirt and a pair of boxer that was … Wait a minute.  Spike wears boxers covered in hearts?   She snickered at the thought.  Somehow the picture of Spike wearing these boxers was hilarious.

 

Hummm, Spike in nothing but boxers. Buffy’s eyes glazed before she shook herself.   Bad Buffy, bad bad bad Buffy.  No thoughts of naked Spike are allowed.  Naked Spike. Yummy naked Spike.  Stop it Buffy, just focus.  What happened to me?

 

Buffy pushed aside the blankets and looked herself over.  Her skin was unmarred, no hint of cuts or bruises.   Even the scars she had accumulated as the slayer seemed to have disappeared.  She carefully lifted her hand to her neck and found that instead of the four sets of scars she expected to find there was only one.  They were still tender and on the opposite side of her neck from the ones she had gotten by Angel, the Master and Dracula.   She figured they were Spike’s mark.  So he really did bite me.  

 

She considered her options.  Why then is my heart beating?   She touched her forehead, a bit scared to find herself with bumpies.  When she found it smooth, she opened her mouth and felt around her teeth, looking for fangs.  She’d dated a vampire for three years and she definitely kissed him more than once, as well as the spell-induced Spike kissing.   She knew that even in human form, there would still be a hint of the hidden fangs.  When she found that the place where her canines should grow was more sensitive than usual, she frowned. 

 

“Okay, what’s happening to me?”  Buffy said out loud, surprised to hear that her voice seemed lower than usual, with a hint of a growl in it.  She got to her feet, intent on finding a mirror.

 

She stalked lightly around the room, her steps completely silent.  Only when she did find a small mirror did it occur to her to wonder why Spike, who didn’t have a reflection, possessed a mirror.  When she saw the brush and girlies accessories beside it, she identified it as belonging to Dawn.  No doubts her sister must have forgotten them the last time she had come to visit Spike.

 

Buffy lifted the mirror and stared at herself.   Her eyes widen in surprise.  It was her and yet not.  Her face seemed to be a bit longer than usual.   Her eyes were more slanted, and they had an eerie silver glow to them.  It was only then that she realized that her vision was different, as well as all her other senses.  She could see a faint outline to everything, and she could see traces of what she thought must have been Spike. 

 

A closer examination convinced Buffy that what she saw was the ghost trail of Spike’s earlier pacing.   She could also see which items he had touched recently.  She could smell him: tobacco, whiskey, power, blood and something else that she couldn’t quite identify.  Taking a mental note to ask him about this, she focused on what she had always thought of as her slayer sense.  It was in overdrive.  She could feel a demon that was several miles away in the sewer, a few not yet risen vamps in their coffin, and a few humans going around the cemetery. Humans?  I’ve never been able to feel them before.  What AM I?

 

Buffy wasn’t sure if she could handle sunlight or if she should go home. Deciding that there was nothing else she could do before Spike came back, she climbed the ladder and settled herself on the couch.  She grabbed the remote   and switched the tv on.  She hoped to find something to distract herself.  She was fully aware that she was avoiding several issues, namely what had been done to her in the rain-drenched cemetery, but she wasn’t ready to think about that yet.