Chapter 5

She lay caressing him while he slept, his head in the curve of her shoulder, her lips against his hairline and her hand running delicately over and over the planes of his body. She had never allowed herself to sleep with him in that month when they had been lovers, never allowed herself to caress him like this, always leaped to her feet and fled away once the sex was over, ashamed of herself. Couldn’t even call it lovemaking, that one month; could only call it sex. Oh, he had made love. But she had only fucked him.

A year later they had slept together. Those last two nights before the final battle. The first night just holding each other. The best night of his life, he had called it. ‘Were you there with me?’ he had asked the next day, wistfully, hopefully. And she had temporized, once again with the mixed messages: yes...no...I don’t know...does it have to mean anything? Which was the reason that the next day she had allowed him her body and slept beside him the whole night. But even then she had been temporizing and he had known it. Which was why when the truth of her feelings finally hit her at that very last moment and she had blurted it out to him, he hadn’t believed it. Had burned instead.

Her arms tightened fiercely about him. Not this time.

Spike drew a breath and turned his head a little deeper into the curve of her shoulder, his arm tightening around her waist. Then he stopped breathing again. He was still asleep.

She smiled against his forehead. They had worn each other out, unable to stop, unable to get enough of each other. She didn’t know how many hours it had been this time because there wasn’t a clock on the bedside table. But she had a feeling they had broken all the records they had set during that one insane month. Slayer blood. He had been bad enough when it was just vamp stamina powering him, but with Slayer blood providing its aphrodisiac—honest to God, she was amazed she had survived it!

Could have eaten him alive though. Wanted to. Wanted to fuse him to her, never let him go. Mustn’t though. Had to let him go. Had to send him away where he would be safe.

She kissed his eyes in his sleep and felt his lashes flutter against her lips, stroked him again and again, his chest and shoulders and back and loins, cherishing the feel of him, memorizing it. Had to send him away. Had to find a way to send him out of Sunnydale.

Spike had come awake when her lips brushed his eyelids. With an effort, he made himself not breathe, checked that betraying reflex of his, just lay still in astonishment, relishing her caresses. This was all new to him. This...tenderness. A hundred and twenty years of the rough, twisted, torturous games that constituted vamp lovemaking with Dru had never yielded up this feeling. Gentleness had been his perversion, not Dru’s, who had taken advantage of it, but had never valued it. But then Dru hadn’t loved him, had always belonged to Angelus.

He had never had his gentleness returned, and now that it was, it hurt something in him, tore open wounds and yearnings that he hadn’t even realized were there. Slayer’s hands moving delicately over him, Slayer’s lips sliding softly over his face...It was sweet. Agonizingly sweet. The backs of his eyes stung.

Always wanted someone to care for him. Always wanted to be...

No! Not that word! Not with the Slayer! Christ! What was she doing to him? He was the Big Bad! He was evil! And he had no intention of being anything but evil! She wasn’t going to turn him into another big fluffy puppy with bad teeth!

Her face pressed against his cheek. Her lips slid along his jawline. Oh, Christ! His nonbeating heart hurt.

“You’re awake,” Buffy said. His chest had heaved suddenly against her.

“Yeah.” He turned his head abruptly and kissed her hard, rolling her over onto her back.

“Mmm,” she purred, holding his weight upon her, her arms tight across his back. “You feel so good.”

“What is this between us, Slayer? What the hell is it?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Tell me about it.”

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

“Feels good though,” he muttered and they kissed deeply. “You’re something else in bed, Slayer. Bloody animal! And that Slayer blood!”

“Liked it, did you? Turned you into a machine.”

Spike snickered helplessly into her shoulder. “Flattery will get you everywhere, pet.”

They grinned at each other.

“Mustn’t do this again,” she muttered.

“Must,” he growled. “Want more.”

“Spike...”

He caught the backs of her knees and pulled her thighs up around his hips, rubbed himself deliberately against her. She moaned, her body arcing to his and her arms clenching involuntarily around him.

“Tell me you don’t want more.”

“Oh, God!” she groaned. “I do want it. But it’s not right. You know that.”

“I know. What’s happening is crazy, Slayer. It’s insane. But...”

“You have to leave Sunnydale.”

“Not yet. Not yet. Haven’t had enough of this yet.”

“Do it until you get bored, get jaded, is that it?”

“Burn you out of me,” he muttered.

“One night wasn’t enough to do that?”

“No! Wasn’t for you either.”

“No.”

They kissed hungrily, hands kneading and caressing, bodies shuddering and sliding against each other. There was time, Buffy thought vaguely. There was no hurry. He didn’t have to leave right away. Or was she just rationalizing again?

“Don’t fall in love with me!” she said suddenly and vehemently.

He laughed involuntarily. “There’s a twist! You keep coming up with these unexpected things, Slayer. The cliché is that, the morning after, you insist that I do.”

“It’s not a joke. I mean it.”

“Demons don’t love, pet. Surely that Watchers’ Council of yours has told you that.”

“And that’s a crock. I’ve seen you with Dru, Spike. You loved her for a hundred and twenty years.”

He looked down at her in complete stillness, frowning. “Yeah,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I don’t know about other demons, Spike. But I know you.”

“How do you know?” he muttered. “It doesn’t make sense. You know too much.”

“I just do.”

He shivered suddenly as her tongue licked his nipple. “Like that. I didn’t even know myself that I was sensitive there. Dru never...”

“Vamp loving is rough. But you like being stroked, don’t you? Gentleness.”

He caught his breath in shock. “How...?”

Her lips slid up his throat to distract him. “Necks now. That’s a turn on for any vamp.”

“Buffy...”

“Wasn’t very gentle last night though.” She ran her hands over him, shaking her head at herself. “You’ve got bite marks all over your shoulders and neck, scratches down your back. I’m sorry.”

He grinned. “Oh, well, that! Bites to a vamp, pet? Only a turn-on. You’ve got your own bite mark.”

He rubbed a thumb gently over the two neat punctures on her neck and she gasped and arched involuntarily against him with the jolt of pure pleasure that shot through her.

“Whoa! Wow, what was that, Spike? Do all bite marks do that when touched?”

“No.” He was looking utterly astonished. “I felt that.”

“What?”

“I felt that. Felt what you were feeling. That shouldn’t be happening.”

“You felt it? How can that happen?”

He ran his thumb lightly over the punctures again and they both shuddered.

“It’s more than a bite mark!” he said in appalled realization. “It’s a claim mark! Oh, Christ, pet! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!”

“Do what? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t even remember doing it. Just remember taking your blood. I was so out of my head...” He rubbed a hand helplessly over his face. “Did I say anything...?”

“Like what?”

“Anything possessive.”

“Well, you said: Mine. You said it a couple of times.”

“Oh, bollocks! And did you agree?”

“Well, yeah, I suppose. I said I was.”

He dropped his forehead against hers and laughed helplessly. “That would do it.”

“Do what? What’s the big deal about this claim thing? What’s a claim anyway?”

“It’s a link between us. It ties us together.”

“What!” Buffy, you idiot! Give way to your own selfish desires and here’s the punishment. Mean to make him leave town, sleep with him instead because you couldn’t bear not to have him just one more time—and end up tied to him!

“You...belong to me,” he muttered. There was an odd look in his eyes, a blend of ruefulness and satisfaction. “That’s what the claim does. I asked it of you and you agreed.”

The worst part was that she wanted to belong to him.

“But...but...What exactly does it do?”

“A one way claim?” he muttered. “It’s kind of like a minion link.”

“A minion link!” Buffy was horrified. “You mean I’d have to do whatever you say?”

“Yes, but...I wouldn’t! Don’t want a slave, pet. Want an equal.”

They stared at each other.

“But you could,” she growled.

“Won’t,” he said intensely. “Swear!”

Somehow she could feel that he meant it. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

“Is it permanent?”

“No. A deep-set command might be permanent if I made one. Like a command made in hypnosis, you know? But I won’t be doing that. And the claim itself wears off in two or three weeks if it’s not renewed.”

“Guess you can’t bite me then,” she said ruefully. She was sorry about that. She realized that she wanted him to take her blood, wanted that glorious rush of feeling.

He gave her that sideways, sloe-eyed look. “Oh, I can bite you, pet. Just have to remember not to say anything possessive. And you have to remember not to agree.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Slayer tied to a vampire,” Spike said. “I can just see the looks on those Council wankers’ faces!”

They both laughed involuntarily.

“Can’t leave town until the claim’s worn off,” he murmured. “Tends to be kinda painful for both of us, stretching the link like that. A couple of hundred miles is tenable, but more than that is not a good idea.”

“So you have to stick around for a couple more weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Crying shame.”

“Isn’t it?”

They grinned at each other.

“You must’ve totally fried my brain if I don’t remember making that claim,” he muttered. “Says something about you, luv.”

She pulled a strand of his hair down over his forehead and studied the result with pleasure. “Well, I don’t remember much myself, so you totally fried mine.”

He kissed her slowly and luxuriously.

“Getting to like this,” he purred.

She bit his shoulder lightly. “Don’t start liking it too much.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Spike, I mean it.”

“Slayer, you gotta stop thinking and worrying everything to pieces. Just enjoy the moment.”

She had never been able to do that. Ever since Merrick had told her she was the Slayer, her life had been so fraught. Struggle and worry; apocalypses, demons, the Hellmouth, even the Scoobies. She had never been able to stop worrying about all of that, never been able to just relax and enjoy. She had two weeks of Spike and then she would have to make him leave. All right. She wouldn’t think about that, wouldn’t spoil this present delight with thoughts of what was to come.

“You’re right,” she murmured. “Just going to enjoy.”

“Good.”

His tongue was rasping over her skin. She shivered and arched to him, digging her fingers into his thick hair and holding his head to her. Last night had been all about satisfying cravings that they had both tried to deny, had been all fierceness and hunger and desperation. Today they could just indulge.

“Buffy,” he was murmuring as his mouth roamed all over her. “Buffy.”

“I like it when you say my name,” she said dimly, drowning herself in the feel of him. “Not just Slayer.”

“Never felt right before.” He raised his head to look down at her. “Not going to stop saying Slayer though. It’s what you are. This dangerous, deadly, glorious creature. You’re Buffy and you’re the Slayer. And both are beautiful. You’re a wonder, pet.”

Riley had wanted her to be just another girl, normal and ordinary and depending on him. Riley had resented the Slayer side of herself, so much stronger than he. And so did Angel in a way. Angel saw her as young, vulnerable, wanted her to be that, to do as he said. What Angel really wanted was for them both to be only human, with him the one making all the decisions.

She threatened their manhood.

Spike didn’t feel threatened. He was too strong for that, sure of what he was, comfortable in his own skin. Love’s bitch without qualifications and happy to be that. He valued excellence, valued her strength that matched his, never wanted to be human, never wanted her to be less than she was. He loved her being the Slayer, responded to both sides of her, wouldn’t have her any other way. He didn’t mind her taking the lead in some things because he took the lead in others, the things she was afraid of, like emotions. They were exactly matched, balanced. She was his sun; he was her shade.

“You’re a wonder too,” she murmured. “You’re special, Spike.”

She felt his pleasure. She ran her mouth down his throat and over his chest. He purred, a vibration that shivered deliciously through her body as he lay upon her.

“You like that,” she smiled. “I can feel it. I can feel you enjoying it. Is that the claim? Is it supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know. Claims are so rare, pet. They’re hardly ever done. I’ve never done it before, not with anybody. And a claim with a Slayer is unheard of. Don’t know how that’s going to work. I know I’m supposed to feel you. But you feeling me...That’s different.”

She ran her hands down his sides from armpit to the back of his knees and felt him flex against her, felt his enjoyment. He ran his hands over her ribcage, bent to mouth her breast; and she felt not only his mouth upon her breast, but the sensation he felt doing it and the sensation he felt coming from her when he did it. The feelings echoed between them, reverberating through every nerve, an upward-swirling, intensifying spiral of delight.

“Oh, God, I’m coming apart!” she gasped.

“Swear I’m gonna dust before this is over,” he groaned.

They twisted about each other, hands and mouths and bodies sliding and straining over each other, drowning in that tidal wave of doubled and quadrupled sensation. He took her hard and they both cried out at the feeling, every nerve on fire, bodies struggling and thrusting against each other, minds blanking out and sinking into each other. Her sheath clenching and gripping upon him; his cock driving into her, going as far as it could go and then just that little bit further, hitting every sweet spot in her body, hips twisting at the end of every thrust to strike her clit. Every sensation enhanced, reflecting and echoing over the link.

His fangs sank into her neck.

“Oh, God!”

It was too much, unbearable, that draw of his fangs flinging them both so much higher. Her brain blanked right out as they both convulsed.

“Oh, God, I think I passed out!” she gasped when the world finally steadied about her.

“I know I did,” he muttered, limp upon her. “Don’t know what that was. Could dust right now. Never going to get better than this.”

They looked at each other helplessly.

***

A Firoud was the last thing Giles expected to see on his doorstep. He very nearly flung himself reflexively backwards into his house, seeing that small, gray form with its little, gargoyle face peering up at him. Willow and Xander were gasping in shock behind him. Giles almost slammed the door on it, then remembered that Buffy had said that the Firoud had helped them in the fight against the Initiative.

“Frihas send,” it squeaked. “Please, must see Slayer.”

“Erm, she’s not here,” Giles muttered, recovering himself. “What do you Firoud want with the Slayer?”

“Is that a Firoud?” Willow asked, stepping forward excitedly and not even noticing Xander trying to grab her arm and keep her back.

“Wil-low,” said the Firoud, as interested, and bowed several times. “Hack-er. Very smart.”

Willow beamed at it and it beamed back. Xander made a gagging sound.

“Thank you.”

“Er, yes,” said Giles, trying to get control of the situation. “Um, perhaps I can take a message for Buffy?”

The Firoud nodded. “You tell, please. Grathar come Hellmouth. Five, six. Pack, yes? Very bad.”

“What are Grathar?” asked Willow. Giles knew though and was horrified

“Very bad demon. Very big. Dan-ger-ous. You tell Slayer.”

“Right away,” Willow nodded.

The Firoud bowed and fled.

“I wondered what they looked like,” Willow said. “They weren’t on the raid, but they got us our supplies. Cute little things, aren’t they?”

“Eww!” Xander looked sick. “How can you say that, Will? It looks gross and anyway it’s a demon.”

“I think it looks cute. And it may be a demon, but it’s on our side. Don’t be so prejudiced. If you’d been on that raid, you’d have seen...”

“Well, I wasn’t. You left me out of it,” growled Xander resentfully.

“You were still sick and we needed everybody in top form,” said Giles firmly. He was getting sick of Xander griping about not being on that raid on the Initiative; if he’d come on that raid, he’d only have been grinching about having had to be in close proximity to demons anyway.

“Buffy said she was going to start at Tranquility tonight,” Willow said. “I’ll go and tell her about the Grathar.”

“Willow, wait!” Giles exclaimed, but Willow was already gone. “Bloody hell!”

He grabbed Xander with one hand as the boy started to follow Willow, then tore his weapons chest open.

“That little idiot! It’s not safe! She could run right into them and the Firoud’s right. Grathar are dangerous.”

“But we have to warn Buffy,” Xander protested.

“Yes. Here!” He flung an axe to Xander, snatched up one himself. “Now we’re ready. Come on!”

They caught up with Willow at Tranquility cemetery. She was standing with her hands at her mouth, staring at a vicious fight going on in the middle of the cemetery.

“Um, I think Buffy already knows about the Grathar,” Willow mumbled as they stumbled to a stop beside her.

Buffy was in a blur of motion, hammering at the six massive demons surrounding her. To his shock, Giles realized that Spike was with her, fighting them as well. The two of them made a smooth team, weaving and ducking around each other, unexpectedly switching opponents every now and then, keeping the demons off-balance and off-stride. And the whole time they were laughing and trading jokes, as if this were only some highly enjoyable exercise.

“Buffy!” Giles yelled.

“Oh, hi, Giles!” Buffy caroled happily. “Lookee what we got!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” muttered Giles. “What does she think this is, some kind of game? Catch!”

Buffy caught the axe he threw her. “Oh, sweet! Just what we needed! Spike!”

To Giles’ shock, she threw the axe to Spike, leaving herself defenseless again. Cursing, Giles ripped the axe that Xander was holding out of his hand.

“Buffy, here!” He tossed it to her.

“Thanks!”

She caught it neatly, whirled and decapitated one of the Grathar. Spike had already dispatched another. The rest was just a rout, the two of them joyfully chopping down Grathar. In no time, the whole thing was over, Spike chasing down the last one. He hamstrung it with his axe as it tried to flee, then chopped off its head efficiently as it fell.

“Now that was fun!” he said, swaggering back.

Giles looked down at the huge bodies littering the grass. The Grathar had fangs that sabertooth tigers would have envied and claws three inches long. He felt sick to his stomach.

“Thanks, Watcher,” said Spike. He slammed the blade of his axe into the turf to clean it of Grathar blood and entrails, then handed the axe to a numb Giles. “Gave us that bit of an edge.”

“Yeah,” said Buffy, doing the same. “It would have taken us longer to get rid of them if you hadn’t come along.”

They leaned on each other’s shoulders, laughing. Giles stared at them in wonderment. Xander scowled.

“So how come you’re all so buddy-buddy with Spike?” Xander demanded. Giles looked at him in exasperation. But that was the question, though Giles would have posed it more tactfully.

“Oh, Spike’s helping me now.”

Xander glared at Spike. “Why?”

“Like fighting,” shrugged Spike and looked at the several bodies scattered in pieces across the turf. “Gonna have a bit of a cleanup problem here, luv.”

Three or four Firoud slipped out of the shadows and bowed. Buffy grinned at them.

“Maybe not. Will you guys take care of it?”

“Will,” a Firoud nodded. “Good eating,” it explained.

“Oh, gross!” exclaimed Xander.

“Meat’s meat,” shrugged Spike and went to supervise the cleanup.

“And you make allies with that?” muttered Xander, giving both the Firoud and Spike the same disgusted look.

Buffy gave him a hard look. “Yes,” she said flatly and Xander subsided with ill grace, seeing the warning in her eye.

“Perhaps if we discussed this,” Giles said in a conciliatory tone.

Buffy’s brows rose. “And voted on it? Slayer business is not a democracy, Giles. I make the decisions.” She looked Xander right in the eye. “I don’t mind listening to your opinions. But I’m through with being told what to do.”

“I was thinking of laying everything out in the open,” said Giles and Buffy nodded, realizing he meant her whole back-from-the-future thing.

“Not a bad idea. When?”

“Friday at my place?” Giles suggested. “I’ve got that tutor of Willow’s coming then. It would be a good opportunity to go over everything then.”

“Okay.”

“What are they doing?” asked Willow, watching the Firoud busy working on the Grathar.

Buffy glanced over. “I think they’re cutting steaks.”

“Oh, God,” muttered Xander, looking as if he were going to hurl.

Willow giggled involuntarily. “Um, why don’t you and Giles go home, Xand? Buffy and I’ll go back to the dorm. That is, if you’ve finished patrolling for the night, Buff.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Buffy would rather have gone on patrolling with Spike, but from the looks on Giles’ and Xander’s faces, they would insist on coming along and that would defeat the purpose.

“Don’t worry,” said Willow quietly as Giles and Xander went off. “You can drop me off at the dorm, then take off to wherever you’ve been spending your nights.”

Buffy blushed vividly. “Um...”

“Kinda had to notice that your bed’s empty every night. And you haven’t been sleeping at Revello Drive either. Your Mom would have mentioned it.” She lifted her brows at Buffy. “She’s nice, your Mom. Things have been better since I started talking to her. That was a good idea of yours.”

“I’m glad.”

“So. Spike, huh?”

Buffy jumped. “Willow...”

“Things have been starting to add up over the last few days.” Willow looked at her curiously, then grinned. “I can understand. He’s really hot and, hey, one can’t help noticing, great bod there. And from your happy vibes, pretty good between the sheets, huh?”

“Willow!”

Willow laughed, then sobered. “Vampire. Scourge of Europe. No soul. All those really psycho things, Buffy.”

“He’ll be leaving in a couple of weeks.”

Willow’s eyes widened at the pain in her voice. “I thought it was just the sex. But...You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Buff drew a painful breath. “Yeah. I love him.”

“But how...why...?”

“Long story, Will. I’ll explain it on Friday.”

“So it’s part of that. Whatever Giles has been jittering about.”

“Mm.” Buffy rubbed a hand over her face. “Don’t tell Giles or Xander. It’s not going to matter what I feel in a couple of weeks anyway.”

Willow looked at the sadness in her face and touched her shoulder lightly. “Okay.”

“What’s wrong, pet?” Spike was hurrying up. “What have you been saying to her, Red?”

“Nothing,” Buffy said quickly. “She hasn’t been saying anything.”

“You’re upset.” His arm came about her shoulders, a protective movement that Willow noted thoughtfully.

Buffy didn’t see the way he was looking at her, but Willow did. The tenderness, the care and concern. More going on there than meets the eye, Willow thought, watching him.

“Just at the way things are,” Buffy was saying lightly. “No big.”

“Don’t borrow trouble, pet.”

“Just live in the moment.” Buffy smiled at him. “I’m trying. Let’s get Willow back to the dorm.”

On the greensward, the bodies of the Grathar had been dismembered and were now being carted away.

“It’ll all be gone by morning,” Spike said, following Willow’s gaze.

They walked back to the dorm. Willow noticed that Spike had quietly taken Buffy’s hand and that they were walking along with their fingers tightly interwoven. Definitely more going on there than what showed. She studied Spike surreptitiously. Something was different. He’d changed. It wasn’t the deadly and dangerous Spike that had come with Drusilla to Sunnydale and tried to kill them all. It wasn’t the Spike who had turned up a year later, all drunk and vulnerable, and even though he hadn’t actually done it, still threatening to eat Xander and cut her face with that broken bottle. It wasn’t even the angry and frustrated Spike of Thanksgiving, desperate to get his chip out.

Something that had always been there coming to the surface.

Willow considered that. They had all been afraid of Spike and with reason: killer, vampire, evil. But now he was changing, had changed, and Willow was having second thoughts.

“Guess I won’t see you till lunch time tomorrow, Buffy,” she said as they stopped in front of the dorm. “I’ve got an early class, so I probably won’t be there when you come back in the morning.”

“Uh...” Buffy blushed and Willow grinned.

“Then there’s this Wicca group meeting I want to go to. Socializing’s tough when no one else is into the weirdo things I’m into. Would be nice to meet other people who like spells and stuff. Though that tutor Giles has got coming’s really gonna help.” Willow waggled her fingers teasingly at Buffy and Spike. “So. Have fun.”

“She’s adjusting,” said Buffy in wonder, watching Willow walk into the dorm. She turned suddenly and put her arms tightly around Spike’s neck.

“That’s a bad thing?” Spike asked in bewilderment.

“Stupid,” she muttered into his chest. “I’ve been so stupid. Should have told them. They’d have had a fit and then they’d have adjusted. Everything would have been so different if I’d done that. Just didn’t have the guts.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hadn’t been able to face their condemnation. Too much of a wimp to resist even for a moment their constant interference in her personal life. So many things had gone wrong because of that. Slayer. Yeah, yeah. Had the stones to fight demons, but none when it came to emotional issues. Was a flat out coward there. And they had all paid for it, Spike most of all.

She kissed the corner of his jaw. “Let’s go back to your place. Got to fill you in on something.”

He tilted his head quizzically. “Okay.”

Neither of them were at ease on the angular leather-and-steel furniture though there was nothing actually uncomfortable about it. It just didn’t suit them. They always ended up sprawled happily on the kingsized bed, which had become their playground.

He frowned when she pulled on his discarded T-shirt. “Hey, take that off.”

She pushed away his hands, laughing, as he tried to lift it off her. “I want to talk and you’re too easily distracted. One flash of bare breast and the only sounds we’ll be making for the next two hours is grunting and groaning.”

“And you don’t get distracted?” Then he laughed as she pulled the sheet over his naked hips. “Does that mean you do?”

“Oh, yeah. Top half’s distracting enough.” They kissed slowly, then she drew back, smiling. “We have to talk.”

“The most terrifying words in the English language.”

“No, seriously.” She clasped her hands in her lap and looked down at them. “This meeting on Friday. Giles found something out about me. He wants me to tell the others and, yeah, I think I should. But I want you to know first.”

He pushed himself higher up the bed until he was leaning back against the rails of the headboard. There was a warmth in the way he was looking at her and his eyes were soft.

“You want me to know whatever it is before your friends do?”

She had never done that in her other life. Her friends had always come first. She had always put them before him and now she couldn’t understand why, though at the time it had always seemed so reasonable.

“Yeah. It’s going to be hard to believe.”

“Is it a Slayer thing? If it is, I’ll believe it.”

“I suppose it is.” She bit her lip nervously. He put out a hand and took hers. Their fingers folded together, a reassuring contact, her small, slender hand with his big, cool one. “Okay, here goes. I’m not this time’s Buffy. I’m Buffy from 2004, from the future. Ran into some real bad shit up the line. Died. Got sent back here.”

There was a small silence. His hand tightened on hers.

“Why?” he said at last.

“Why what?”

“Why’d you get sent back? You’re the Slayer. Slayer should be shunted right into Heaven.”

“They were gonna. But I wanted...I wanted to come back and fix a few things. The Powers That Be, they let me.” She looked at him in surprise. “You believe me. Giles didn’t really.”

“I can feel it over the link. That you’re telling the truth.” He drew a long breath. “So that’s why you were so different.”

“When?”

“Thanksgiving. When I came to you for help.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed the backs of her fingers against his lips. “Were we lovers? In that future?”

She caught her breath. “Yeah. For about a month.”

“Only a month? Did something wrong, did I? Figures.”

“No! You didn’t!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I did. I went wrong.”

“Hey, no.” He caught her to him and she clung to him, her face pressed hard into the curve of his shoulder. “Buffy, don’t.”

“You died, Spike! You died. I got you killed. It was my fault! Not gonna let that happen again.”

“That’s why you want me to leave Sunnydale,” he said slowly.

“Yes! I don’t want you caught up in my battles again. I’m the freaking Slayer. I’m the one who’s supposed to save the world, not you.”

“Save the world. Me?” His voice was utterly horrified. “Say it’s not so, pet!”

“You did.”

“God! Musta gone mental! Thought I was the great poof or something.” He shuddered. “I’m evil! I don’t do things like that!”

She couldn’t help smiling. “You already have, that one time with Acathla. For Dru’s sake and because you like the world the way it is.”

“I remember.”

“The next couple of times you did it for me.”

“Well, that makes sense,” he muttered. “Kinda thing I would do. Love’s bitch.”

She drew back and laid a hand against his cheek. “The last time, the time you died. You did it for me. But you also did it because it was the right thing to do.”

He thumped the back of his head a couple of times against the headboard. “Please don’t say that!”

“It’s true.”

“Buffy,” he said helplessly. “I’m no hero.”

“No, you’re a champion.” She kissed him softly. “Dru’s knight. Mine too...in black leather.”

He snickered involuntarily and she laughed too.

“Fighter, that’s what you are, Spike. Warrior. If you can’t fight for the dark, you’ll fight for the light. Can’t help it. And that’s what gets you killed. That’s why the minute this claim fades, you leave Sunnydale.”

“Buffy...”

“You stay, you die. Simple as that.”

His eyes were intensely blue, his gaze intent upon her face. “You gave up Heaven to come back and keep me from getting killed? For me?”

“And for my Mom,” she said hurriedly. She knew him. Love’s bitch. Admit that she loved him and he would never leave. He would stay and burn. He wouldn’t care. “And for Anya. And a girl called Tara. And several other people you wouldn’t know. Lot of deaths happened.”

“What are you leaving out? There’s something. I can feel it across the claim.”

“There’s nothing!”

“You’re holding back, pet. You’ve shut the door on me. You learned how to do that very fast and that tells me it’s important.”

“You’re holding back too, Spike. I can feel that. This claim. We’re both fighting it.”

“We’re not fighting the claim,” he said. “We’re fighting openness.”

He was right. Of course he was right. He saw too much, while her genius lay only in denial.

“Maybe we don’t trust each other.”

“Bollocks, pet. Would we be here together in this bed if we didn’t trust each other?”

“Maybe not on the things that matter.”

There was a small silence.

“Maybe,” he said.

“We’re not good for each other,” she said fiercely. “I’ll be glad when this claim is over!”

“It will be. It’s hanging fire right now. Not exactly taking. You have to give way to it. You have to agree. And you don’t.”

“Then why is it there at all?” she cried despairingly.

“Maybe because you want it. Maybe because we both want it.”

He tipped her over flat on her back and kissed her bruisingly hard. Her arms closed fiercely about him, pulling him down upon her. She did want it. In her heart of hearts, she didn’t want to let him go.

“Not tired of you yet, Slayer,” he muttered. “Starting to wonder if I’ll ever be.”

“You have to!”

“Have to doesn’t mean bollocks, pet.”

God! Did he always have to be right?


TBC