by Megan

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [Epilogue]

Chapter 1

Spike stood on the lonely square of pavement outside the shop. Through the window he could see Anya and her demon friend-- the one who had royally mucked up the Slayer’s birthday. Behind the bird he saw a number of magical ingredients lining the shelves, and books with useful spells.

He craved a solution, and as the only non-magical one he had access to was his own dusting, he was rather inclined toward the acceptance of magic.

But magic had consequences. He knew that, and he’d bleated the fact to the children umpteen numbers of times. Usually to no affect. Arrogant lot! But the pain sliced deep within him; he could feel himself bleeding on the inside and knew he was on the edge of tears every time he thought of her.

Bitch!

He hated her? for the way she had treated him. Used his body, burned her imprint so deep he could never get her out of his system. He didn’t even have to close his eyes to feel the scorching reminder of her skin flush against his, his hands stroking her to writhing, pulsing pleasure.

He’d done good by her. Fair enough he might get a bit tongue-tied and make some really piss poor comments and observations, backing her into a corner of outraged fear and confusion. But he did his best, and really, demon! Evil! She couldn’t expect bloody miracles.

He couldn’t help but bow his head, though. It was a big fat hairy lie. He didn’t hate her. Couldn’t. He had so much love for her pushed down inside him that he could feel it viciously abusing his empty heart crater for a ‘get out’. He wanted her, true. He would do anything to enclose his cock within her heat and thrust her into sensual madness. He knew he could do it, too. She craved his love. Craved the salve the pain of his love brought her. And now she had cut him off. Distanced herself from his passion, removed herself from his support. Replaced him with judgmental bloody Scoobies before they could find out and tell her she was more wrong than she already thought she was.

But she wanted him. How could he help but know it? The night she came to him? the night Finn re-entered all their lives, the destructive little prick. He’d seen it in her eyes then. She’d stamped her way through his door and stopped before him, her voice low and unsure, almost begging him to love her. She said she was using him. He knew her, though. Always bloody had. The chit couldn’t hide a thing from her Big Bad. And it wasn’t that the mighty beefcake had bombed his way back into Sunnydale that brought her to the edge of commitment to him. She had come to Spike because the git was another one who’d left her behind, and she was terrified that he would, too. No way was it mere upset at Finn’s obvious moving on. Even if it did bash at her ego. She wanted Spike and his love, not just the shagging. She wanted to connect.

The connecting freaked her out. Especially when she was reminded of what he was. She’d connected so much his demon didn’t matter. Until she was confronted with someone who figured out her dirty little secret. A human someone. A human someone who could tell all her friends.

Spike slumped in defeat. Thinking of how much she denied him made his head hurt. Really, he had no one to blame but himself. He’d set the scene years ago. Set the beat that their association was forever going to follow. All his death threats? and well hell, actions!? had tainted his existence for the Scoobies. And if that group couldn’t accept you, Buffy had no chance of changing her mind.

So, the real problem was because he’d started out her enemy. Started out wanting to bag another Slayer. Of the ‘making her dead’ variety. If he knew then what he knew now… Well, he woulda done things plenty different. Not let her shag and get bitten by the bloody poof for one.

But, there was no point fixating on the unchangeable. Magic was his only option now. He had to stop the pain. The hurt. When he could numb himself enough that he could think about his future; see where he should head now that the one great love of his life had kicked him in the balls with her stupidity and ignorance one last time. So she thought it was real for him! The bint still couldn’t accept that he could really feel love. So maybe it was time he took the problem away. Took his debilitating love away, so he could get out of this bleeding town and make something of his unlife.

Yeah, Spike. That’s the spirit!

And he turned again to the birds that he could see through the window, and wondered about consequences. What if a spell not only wiped out his feelings for the Slayer, but those for Dawn as well? What if he wanted to be all demon again, and wasn’t there to protect them like he’d dedicated his unlife to doing? Well, those were a few consequences that gave him pause.

With an abrupt shrug of his very masculine shoulders, he dismissed the concerns and entered the shop. As soon as he was inside, the demon Halfrek came over all jittery, and a little flirty. He found it disturbing.

He sniffed suspiciously and narrowed his eyes. Demon girl was all vengeful, for Harris. Not that the wanker didn’t deserve a good dick shortening, or a new eruption of the funny syphilis.

Actually, perhaps he should consider helping her out with that…could be worth him hanging around town to watch. And laugh.

He grinned with suddenly amusing possibilities. He could wish for the great donut consumer to swell from protracted association with the dough until he exploded. Or made sure only demon girls wanted a piece of him. Wait, that wouldn’t be any different to the norm. Forget that one!

Finally, he offered a greeting and asked for help in finding a spell. He may have said he needed a ‘thing,’ but this was a magic shop, he was sure that Anya was onto him about what he needed. And that was when things got way out of hand.

He could see them talking together at the other end of the counter, occasionally shooting him looks of consideration as they nattered about something obviously important. Not to him, though. He just wanted to get nice and numb, and right quick like.

He felt prickly and on edge when Halfrek up and left them alone, and by the time the alcohol had found a permanent flow toward his mouth, he felt like he was on the edge of monumental carnage to his peace of mind. Or maybe he just felt like the world as he knew it was about to become rather intense in its difference.

His guard had dropped after the first half of the bottle disappeared, and he felt himself moving on to bitter moments of self-reprisal. How could he seriously have expected to have a chance with her? Too much history-- really bad history-- and not all of it connected to him. Too much had happened in the Slayer’s past to allow her to consider what they had together in any way but disaster and heartache.

He could hear Anya egging him on, trying to get him to wish vengeance against Xander, and bloody hell, was he tempted. The ignorance of the berk burned his gut. Hypocritical little shit. If he had to wish the boy harm he’d…and he could see Anya straining toward him, eager to hear him and relish the words of personal torture that his mouth had been about to release.

He chuckled as she sat back, and chuckled again at her disappointment.

Another bottle was placed between them, and the contents quickly consumed. He could feel the conversation turning back to the whelp, and he was disgusted that the boy took up so much thinking space.

“He’s not worth the brain power to wish him harm, luv. No, if wishes…I’d wish…well, if anything I’d go back, back to where it all got cocked up, where I started her really hating me. Not trusting me. I’d change it, be different, help her. Support her, you know? But she’d see, I’m not just evil, and just cause I don’t have a soul doesn’t ‘cessarily mean I’m soulless. Yeah, go back and do it all over again. That’d show her.”

Spike smiled sadly and looked up at his drinking partner and saw her face set in the obvious features of her demon.

He had a split-second of cold realisation.

“Oh shit!” he screamed just as she chanted, “done”.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


His head was spinning and he suddenly thought that he was hyperventilating. Funny thing for a bloke that didn’t need to breathe.

Everything was all dark, though he could hear a heartbeat right in front of him. And something else, a presence he was not in the mood to face right now.

Feeling like a girly git, he realised that his eyes were squeezed tightly closed. Probably in fright from seeing Anya as a demon. He hadn’t come up against many Vengeance Demons before. Now he knew why: she was not the prettiest gameface on the block. He opened his eyes and frowned. He had no clue exactly what he had just wished for, or how Anya had chosen to interpret it. His belly felt like it was doing a lot of flipping before it got flopped.

“Angelus. And Harris. Fancy seeing you here.”

The two paused in their show offering of the whelp’s neck and looked at the vampire in front of them in puzzlement.

“You okay, Spike?”

He stood for a few more minutes in silence, contemplating the pair and sensing the couple of support vamps at his back, and finally realised exactly where he was. He should have been able to tell, what with the special brand of ‘keep it up’ nancy hair gel the ponce couldn’t do without…and those lifts…made Harris look short. Oh yeah, the early days…

“This Sunnydale High?” he asked them almost conversationally, then nodded as they looked at him like he was losing his feeble little mind.

“Oi, Peaches. Did I do the Yoda speech yet?”

Angel shook his head slowly, feeling swept away in a moment that felt like it was straight out of the Twilight Zone.

“Yeah, right…sorry ‘bout that. Not missing much, I’ll wager…So, Dru’s here, and still weak.” He muttered the last to himself in an effort to acclimatise to the situation and time frame he found himself in, and sucked in a breath for forbearance. Then he caught a glimpse of the lights reflecting off Harris’s nummy looking neck. He licked his lips in perverse enjoyment. “How about a bit of blood to celebrate being back with the family?”

Xander’s heartbeat rose in sudden anxiety, not completely secure with the belief that Angel wouldn’t let anything harm him.

Spike moved forward, lowered his fangs to the exposed throat, and began to whisper.

“Peaches, I know about the soul. Get Harris out of here. I have to kill these twits behind me so the Annoying One doesn’t know I turned on his minions. Don’t worry ‘bout the Slayer. Not going to ‘urt her.”

Mere moments after Angel realised that Spike was volunteering information about the Anointed One they had all been concerned about, Spike pulled a punch to Angel’s jaw, merely bruising where he could well have dislocated.

Stepping back, Spike couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he hadn’t plowed his fist right through his annoying sire’s chest and ripped out his heart…dust ahoy! But he knew Buffy would have his head…and he had no desire to be dust now. He felt uncomfortable with this sudden opportunity to change the past, but relished the excitement zinging through him like racing cars speeding around a bendy track before they crashed into the walls and burned.

She was close. And he smiled in delirious anticipation. His body reacted to the signals of excitement filtering down from his brain to his feet, and he felt himself bounce. He felt all springy and loose, and charged. He couldn’t wait to go to her, but for now the show needed to go on.

“You think you can fool me? You were my Sire, man! You were my…Yoda!” Spike winked at the two lumping brunettes in front of him, giving them an encouraging nod to indicate it was all a ploy for the vamps behind him.

Angel looked at him shocked and rubbing his jaw. He could sense the near jubilation affecting his progeny and wondered what the hell he was on.

“Things change,” Angel muttered.

The muscle in Spike’s jaw clenched hard, almost in punishment as he contemplated what the Slayer’s response had always been to that charge. Only the chip, not him. Just the chip. Now he could show her different.

“You’re right. Demon’s can change. We aren’t mindless automatons. We can choose not to kill.” And once he’d said it out loud, he felt stupid for not thinking it earlier. Of course he had bloody changed. That bleeding chip did nothing but give him excuses. And not the ones the Slayer credited him with. Not the ‘no bitey, no dead happy meals’ ones. More like the ‘hello Slayer’, ‘can I help, Slayer’, ‘I love you, Slayer’ excuses. Without the chip, he might have felt forever obliged to carry on as the evil vamp. No, the chip, as annoying as it was, gave him the chance to be in her circle. A little bit on the inner.

Not that she was bright enough to understand the difference.

Angel and Xander stood in stunned amazement as Spike seemed to nod in agreement with himself. They all jumped as he shouted to them to move, ‘this isn’t a spectator sport,’ and fists and fangs flew as vampire minions became vampire dust and ash littering the empty corridor for the cleaners to vacuum in the morning.

The three remained standing, eyeing each other warily.

“What are you up to, Spike?”

Spike smirked at the vampire that he considered to have ruined his life. He felt childish and spiteful, but invigorated about the prospect of doing a spot of ruining himself.

“I’ve come to make some changes. How ‘bout you?”

“I changed a long time ago. Do you have a soul?”

Spike looked on his elder in horror.

“What do you think I am? Do I look like a poof?”

Xander launched into a mirthful belly laugh. It came to an abrupt end as Angel flashed him some fang.

“Tut tut, Daddy! The boy is just ‘ppreciatin’ good humour. Speaking of, Dru’s here an’ she’s not well. You should go see her. She’s missed you.”

Spike’s voice had lowered in a sincerity that rocked him. In this timeframe he was still devoted to his wicked plum, his princess was his everything. But with the switch of his timeline, he brought with him the intense love he felt for the Slayer.

He wasn’t too stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth. Here was his chance, and he was gonna do what he’d hoped. He was gonna make everything right, including Dru. Maybe Angel could help her in a way Spike had never been able to.

Diverting the souled vampire’s attention had other benefits, too. His biggest priority was to keep the other away from Buffy as much as possible. Do something to dim their affection. Cut this soulmate crap. Hopefully in the process he could have it diverted from the poof to himself.

“You get the boy outta here while I take care of the others. I have to get back and deal with the Annoying One.” Spike’s eyes glinted with amused hindsight, which was now foresight…bloody hell!

Angel followed the instruction from Spike with a hesitant glance before finally following Xander Harris from the school. It wasn’t till he had passed through the heavy door that he wondered to himself why he was listening to his numbskull excuse of a grandchilde. Shaking his head, he meandered over to give Xander a hand in fighting the remnant vampire guard.

Spike took a moment to contemplate current events. He felt younger. He had been transported back four years to a time when he was on a fresh diet, no wonder he felt like a spring chicken. Pigs blood was flavourless, no hint of fear or arousal. He missed the hunt, and the kill. But a lesson had been learnt his last visit with Dru. Buffy was his future, and killing humans was not going to endear him to her. And she’d need him. He wasn’t going to skip out on her when she was up against some major Bads. And Dawn. She’d need him to protect Dawn.

No…he was in time to stop his continual death threats. Would stop attacking her. He could help her out with patrol, make with the friendlies with her mates and her mum. Even try cosying up with her Watcher if he had to. Show them all that it wasn’t just a soul that could make a vamp good.

As long as he didn’t have to watch too many of her snog sessions with the brooding poof, he could be patient.

For the first time that night he felt the pain in his chest ease, and the possibility of his love rejoice. His time for finding her, seeing her was beyond late and he set off to locate which corridor she was hiding in, an almost feral grin twisting his lips.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He smelt her before he saw her. And what he first saw was legs. Long glorious smooth flesh of legs. He’d forgotten she had worn short skirts back then. Didn’t realise how much he had missed them. He was so caught up in the memory of those legs that he almost missed the vamp behind his Buffy raising a fire-axe.

“Watch out!” he called in near panic, reacting much faster than his mind could work. He knew she got past this stage to fight with him the first time this scenario went down, but fear grew legs and he propelled himself into the brunette. He violently disengaged her grip around the handle of the weapon and used it to detach her head from her shoulders. He grinned as the dust made a little inconsequential pile on the floor.

Too quick for him to notice Buffy standing against the wall in surprise, he was on the other vamp who had come round the corner. The axe engaged in a beautiful swinging arc and claimed another casualty.

“Now that was fun!” he shared with her as he turned around to face her.

The first connection of their eyes was electrifying, and he sucked in a breath to better prepare himself for taking in her gorgeous face. Here she was, not bitter from fighting Angelus, not broken from having cast Angel to the pits of hell, not craving death due to her tired devotion to the mission. And best of all, she was filled with pulsing life, not resurrected by incompetent and arrogant witches. He felt entirely overcome in the blessing of being in her presence.

Here was his chance.

Buffy.

Knowing him, he’d bollocks the whole thing in a matter of seconds. Right then, keep it simple.

“Hello cutie.”

He waited, wondering if she was going to use her old stand-by and bop him good in the nose. The nostalgic thought had him almost hoping she would, though a power snog would go a lot better on his bones. Not to mention his heart. Or other parts of his body that worked.

She continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. She seemed lost for words.

“You killed Sheila.”

Right, knew it couldn’t last forever.

“She was about to split your head in two,” he reasoned, trying to placate.

“She dusted.” Eyes wide, her mind trying to grip onto anything that might make some sense.

“She was a vampire, luv.” Spike tilted his head to the side, and memory poked into his happy moment. “Er, yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Might have been responsible. Think I fed ‘er to Dru.” He lowered his eyes to the ground, appearing almost…bashful?

“I thought you were here to kill me!”

He raised his eyes to hers once again and hoped that she could see how not all right he was with that notion.

“Nope. Made a mistake. Changed my mind. No killing for this vamp. Not anymore.” He shared his hopeful look, kept his face straight of any snarky innuendo or smirks that might influence her to distrust. Then, “I want to help you,” popped out of his mouth as he rocked excitedly back on his heels, hands in pockets…and thought of that miserable episode where he thought he was the souled Randy Giles. Without connection to the present situation, he grimaced. Bloody ponce, and what had he been thinking with that suit? And the hat...he shuddered at the memory, before zeroing in again on the present, and his girl who seemed a hell of a lot blonder, and slightly more cuddly.

“Huh! Are you for real? Cause vampires offering the help? Not so much. Unless you’re Angel. Which you so are not.”

His cloud darkened and he had to check himself against revealing his very real and violent hatred for his sire.

“No Angel, pet. No soul, either. But I can help you. I want to.”

She shook her head against his offer, and he felt the challenge get harder. He stayed determined, though.

“Please, give me a chance to prove it. I’ll take out the Annoying One for you. Piece of bloody cake.” He offered her the grin she had unwittingly informed him recently that she found incredibly sexy. The one with the tongue curl and the inspired twitch of his eyebrows as his eyes flashed a little wider. He was hoping that without all the baggage, it might have a better effect on her now.

“The who huh?”

He rolled his eyes at her before offering the full title in correct form. “The Anointed One. You know, sired by the Master himself. Prophecy yadda yadda…”

Her eyes grew wider and the green seemed to fire. “You would do that?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“For you, luv, I’d do a hell of a lot more besides.”

“This isn’t happening, is it? You’ve got me in some freaky thrall or something, right?”

“That’d be Dru, Buffy. Honest, let me show you that you can trust me.”

She considered his offer, never taking her eyes away from his. He bounced while she watched, hands tucked in his jean pockets hoping that she would take a chance. He could feel heat pulse through his body and excitement burn his veins. At her hesitant nod he felt himself explode as he launched forward and gathered her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair and almost wept in relief.

“You won’t regret it, baby. I’ll show you how good I can be for you.”

Not until he drew back slightly, still holding her body pressed up against his front, did he feel the sharp point of a stake against his back.

But the sight of her luscious lips barely centimetres from his wiped the danger from his mind as he felt drawn to her, captured and hauled in like a prized catch. The second their lips met, all thought was blown from his mind. This was a kiss like those passionate, ‘in-love’ ones they had shared during the fake engagement, not the animalistic, ‘fuck-me-now’ ones they had shared since she came back from death. This was young, and fresh and love. He couldn’t ever give this up.

His lips moved softly over hers, lost in a gentle rub rather than a hostile takeover. The moment she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to lick her own he felt prickles erupt over his entire body. He allowed one hand to raise and tangle in her hair, holding her secure for him to continue his exploration. She had never allowed him to be this soft with her. Well, at least not unless under the influence of a spell.

He felt one of her hands curl around his waist and he pushed his body a little closer, not hard and fast, but enough to brush the compact form of himself against her softness. God, he was hot. She burned him with her fire, with her purpose.

He was completely lost in her taste when his mind registered that her own tongue had taken up exploring his mouth. He moaned as she brushed against the soft padding of his inner cheeks. He could feel his cock hardening in response to her swipe against his teeth, the flicking over the shields of his fangs. Both arms were around him now, her tiny hands exploring his back underneath the cover of his T-shirt as her mouth told him how much he was hers. The stake seemed to have disappeared as nothing but tiny Slayer nails scraped over his skin, flooding his dick with blood.

He moaned in his throat as he pushed her against the wall, his kiss getting more passionate, searching, claiming. One leg curled around his and he caught her behind the knee, raising her leg to clamp around his hip. His hand followed the smooth surface of her leg to the raised covering of her skirt and let his fingers brush round the pantyline of her bum. He wanted so much to seek further, to let his fingers dive into hot gooey wetness until he had her writhing, but it was too fast and she wasn’t yet seventeen.

He forced his hand to remain immobile, moving no further to explore her mysteries. He stroked the line he had already claimed and let his lips do the talking. He drank her in, the taste of her making him giddy with adolescent type hormones and he felt the rush like nothing ever before.

Too soon he could tell that she was struggling to breathe and he released her lips with a little sucking pop. He rested his forehead against hers and copied her frantic intake of air, though his lungs weren’t as productive. He continued allowing his fingers to skim the succulent skin at her backside and prayed that the day when he could feel more of her to be extremely soon.

“I’ll prove to you that you can trust me,” he whispered to her, mindful of walls with ears. They pulled just far enough away for him to see the uncertainty in her eyes before offering her the most gentle, awe-filled smile of his existence. He reserved it for such occasions as sincerity made him lose his mind. Knocked down protective barriers. “I won’t disappoint you.” This time he bestowed upon her a cheeky wink and he revelled in her sudden flush.

As she became aware of her raised leg holding him so, so close to her lower body she eased it down and away from him, looking down in embarrassment.

“Um, that was a m…”

He put a finger across her lips, preventing her from finishing the first denial of this repeat of his past.

“None of that, pet. It was fantastic, wonderful, and beautiful. But it was no mistake.”

His fingers trailed away slowly, his eyes locked on the bruised red of the softest flesh he had ever known before lowering his own lips once again. The kiss was brief, to the point, a promise.

And even as hard as it was, he walked away to call back all his minions that hadn’t witnessed his defection. It was time he killed a little vamp child.

And proved, once and for all, his loyalty.

Chapter 2

“What the hell?”

Buffy hadn’t moved even an inch from the spot where Spike had practically molested her. Well, molested in the sense that she totally gave in to it. She suddenly shook in disgust, completely ignoring the fact that her body was all tight and itchy, and God, was it hot in here? Disgusting vamp, with the wandering hands, and the…tasty …yummy lips. No, no yummy, no tasty, bad Buffy!

That was so not what she’d been expecting when Spike had come crashing through the window earlier. And if that’s how all his threats of “I’m going to kill you” go down, then he’d better stop with the whole evil vampire thing, cause confused much? He wasn’t fooling anyone. And just maybe Giles had looked up the wrong William the Bloody, and Angel for once didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Cause that vampire? That was not an effort to slay a Slayer. At least, not an effort she was familiar with.

Angel had said that once Spike started something, he didn’t stop till he’d finished. Buffy felt her eyes widen almost painfully. What did that mean exactly? He’d started out trying to kill her, only to end up trying to seduce her. Okay, trying with a tiny bit of success. But that left her wondering what it was he wouldn’t stop till he’d finished. Killing her? Or having her in a more ‘get your clothes off and let me ravish you with my talented tongue’ way. Did she get to choose? And what was with those tingles that kept jerking down her spine?

Footsteps alerted her to a possible vamp around the corner… or a slightly bruised and power freaked Xander, if she’d like to look before making big with the assumptions. His frantic looks toward the library doors reminded her of the situation that was about ten minutes ago, and finally she convinced movement to flow to her feet. She felt kind of oogy, what with the inside of one thigh flashing heat straight to her inner panty line. Kinda lopsided bliss. Of the ‘raw, lusty, bad evil vampire got me all turned on then left before really touching anything but her mouth’ kind of bliss.

Xander flung open the library door and she banished her confused demon-wanting hormones back to somewhere a hell of a lot more appropriate when her mother’s life and sanity were at risk.

The first thing she saw was Giles frantically cleaning his glasses. The pace he had set was so rough and fast she almost giggled at the fully expected snap as they broke in half. He looked at them in complete shock before placing them on the table, patting the smooth wood beside while he seemed to search for courage. When he finally raised his eyes and sought out Buffy’s she knew that he must have seen something. Flushing red, she didn’t think he had seen too much because of the angle of the library window and the place she had occupied further down the same wall. Maybe he heard stuff.

“Buffy,” he paused, considering what words were best for him to use without the benefit of having glasses to distract himself with. “Did I hear Spike tell you he was going to kill the Annointed One for you?”

Ahh, she thought. He was going to go with the less inflammatory comments. Relief flooded through her at the not having to get into explanations with Xander about why she had been kissing another vampire that wasn’t Angel. And her mouth went dry. Oh crap! She’d been kissing another vamp whose hair so was not brown.

“Yup,” she answered, upbeat and full of teenage and Slayer adrenaline. She was feeling kind of eager to go home and consider what the hell just happened here tonight. Until the memory of her mother’s face after her illuminating talk with Snyder put a pout straight back on her lips. It got poutier when she added in the wounded, brooding expression of Angel’s face when he found out. Well, if he did. And he wasn’t gonna. No siree, Bob. Nothing to know, really.

“What do you think he was playing at, Buffy?”

Her attention snapped back to her watcher, torn away from the reliving of those smooth fingertips wandering lightly over her ass and his tongue making her body feel like it was struck by lightning. Yet, with that hair, maybe she had been. That these wierdo feelings were erupting within her because of a freakazoid with famine cheekbones and the name Spike did nothing to put an end to her sudden pantiness. The look on Giles’s face squashed her desire to giggle or swoon, though, and she put on her serious look.

“Not sure he was playing.”

He raised his eyebrows and she felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

“Did you get the impression he was genuine in his offer? What am I saying? He’s a vampire. As if he would actually go through with something he says he will. It must be a trick.” Giles hadn’t finished shaking his head with dashed hope when Angel flounced through the door and offered his two cents.

“That’s not Spike. If he says he’ll do something for you, you can guarantee it will get done. I just don’t understand what his motives could be.”

Buffy felt her cheeks turn fire engine red and wondered if she could pull an emergency alarm before the questions started coming.

Xander watched the interaction and felt his eyes settle on the supposedly souled vampire and felt fury burn a hole in his gut.

“You,” he raged before marching over and punching Angel in the cheek. “Ow,” he bounced around the floor as Angel continued to not even sway.

“I’m sorry,” Angel oozed. “Did you just tap me, boy?”

Three sets of eyes flew to him in astonishment, waiting for the harsh, almost evil inflection in his voice to disappear.

“Sorry,” Angel shrugged almost helplessly. “Must be seeing Spike again. Brings back a rush of family mem…” he tapered off when he took in the almost matching looks of horror fixed upon him. “Right,” he almost shouted. “Time to go,” and he was gone in his usual mysterious fashion.

“That was disturbing,” Xander offered, and Buffy was inclined to agree. But thoughts of her current vampire beau were suddenly eclipsed by other vampire experiences of the day.

Xander hadn’t finished. “And what was with the offering of my neck to the big evil vampire with even bigger and sharper teeth? Do I look like the kinda guy who runs around screaming ‘pick me…I wanna be vampire bait’? Cause I wanna clarify right here and now…Xander neck is no rack of lamb for any vampire. Right, Buff?”

“Right, Xan,” she nodded devotedly, trying to keep her snickers to herself till he had left the building.

“And that tone of voice…disturbing I tell you. With a heaping side dish of…well, more disturbing. With a splash of mash…cause I’m hungry. Aren’t you disturbed, Buffster?”

“I really, truly am. Gotta go find my mom, though. Will you guys be good here?” She saw the rising argument in Giles’s eye, the summoning of more delving questions regarding Buffy’s little vampire interlude with Spike, and she rushed out the door. Completely comfortable that she was leaving vampire bait and a Watcher with broken glasses defenseless in the library. She didn’t feel any more vamp tinglies, though, so was sure the building was now demon free. Thanks to the round-up of Spike.

She stopped still in her tracks, the thought of that kiss draining the blood from her limbs as it flooded to her face. She could feel the fire as it began to erupt along the skin of her leg again and was just about to immerse herself into a sea of imagery. Right up until she heard her mother call out and saw a crowd of disoriented and terrified parents milling about the front foyer. Thank God for moms and their forceful suggestions of everyone going home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~


Huh! Seemed her superhero kick cut her a little slack for once. She smiled gratefully as she climbed the stairs ten minutes later to her room. Her mother was actually grateful that she’d fought their way out of a very massacre type ending. Not that she really understood about the massacre thing. Her mom had totally bought into the ‘gangs on PCP’ thing Snyder was shovelling. Really, how could she help but be a fan when Buffy prevented the major spillage of blood and innards all over the school floor. Well, she would if she’d seen that, or knew how possible that outcome could have been? This whole secret identity thing sucked.

With a smile of satisfaction she fell backwards on her bed and just stared at the ceiling, the complete stillness a desperate requirement while she considered again the things that made her blood sing and cry for something she hadn’t known was missing. As she closed her eyes, all she could see was the smooth handsome face of her nemesis. Her enemy, with that cocky flirty smile, the glimmer in his eye and that unexplainable look of awe that flashed over his face while he studied hers. Okay, she’d boarded the ‘majorly wigged’ train and could only sigh as it roared out of the station. And truly, she was enjoying the trip, right up to the moment when Angel knocked on the glass of her window and she jumped back to reality with a guilty start.

Rushing over to the window, Buffy raised it and allowed Angel to climb gracefully through. She looked at his face and could feel a rush of longing flood her, but was briefly confused who it was she was longing for. She was just Lusty Buffy, that was it. Cued right in to the naughty things that she so wanted to try but Angel kept preventing. Though how he did that when he was always secretly crawling in her window was one for the surprise box.

“Hey,” she whispered seductively in hope. If she couldn’t get some lovin’ to stop this burn down deep inside her, she didn’t know if Angel would be leaving undusty.

In a move almost frantic she crushed her lips to his, moaning at the coldness that greeted her tongue. His lips didn’t part, though, but instead of being annoyed she set to inspiring them open. Her hands ghosted over his clothed chest, up over his shoulders before moving down his back to leave a subtle squeeze to his butt cheek.

In typical repressive Angel fashion, he grabbed her and held her arms length away.

“You smell like Spike,” he stated bluntly.

‘Well,’ Buffy thought pettily. ‘Don’t hold back on the sniffer, Angel, my love!’

“Well, yeah…he was at the school. You know, all with the fangy and the fighty, and the…the…killing…” she improvised before heaving a big sigh of relief and plastering a huge smile of seduction to her newly glossed lips.

“And why do you taste like him again?”

Her smile vanished as her mind worked frantically for plausible excuses.

“We fell?” She launched, then sped into a flimsy but somehow believable explanation to Angel as to why she had Spike lips. “Yeah, we fell, and he sort of got all mushed up against me for a second…until I so kicked his ass to other side of the school.”

She nodded, satisfied and struggling to keep it simple, to keep her mouth closed against the very desperate urge to begin rambling with innane reasons that would most likely be hurtful to Angel and confusing to herself. She could just tell Angel that Spike kissed her, groped her like the lecherous…sexy…pig that he was and Angel would just go and dust him.

That thought didn’t seem anywhere near as satisfying as having the white-haired vamp’s fingers on her body.

“So, whatcha doing?” Time for the uber distraction, she thought.

“I’ve just been out, wandering, thinking…”

And brooding, Buffy added silently to herself.

She gave him another sudden, almost robot-like sappy smile before suggesting that maybe they should go search out where this Spike guy was hanging his hat while he was in Sunnydale. That apparently greyish hat.

Angel looked pained. “Yeah, I guess I should have thought of that while I was out.”

He missed Buffy’s ‘duh’ eye rolling as he turned to climb back out the window.

They strolled around Sunnydale, holding hands and attacking any demon or vampire they came across until finally their forceful information gathering led them to the factory.

“This is just so totally lame. Don’t you guys go a little for the comfort? Why is it all with the falling down, dark, dingy factories?”

Angel stared at her as if she had just announced that demon snot was a part of her nightly beauty routine.

“You can’t exactly lay low in the posh suburbs, Buffy.”

Her pout was back and he lowered his eyes in apology.

“Yeah. Guess I should have realised that.”

They found a window and, climbing easily to perch just outside the ledge, prepared themselves for what they might be about to witness. A white blond helmet of hair caught Buffy’s eye almost the second she looked through the grimy window and she sucked in a breath as her heart started beating a crazy rhythm. Angel watched her watching the action, and wondered why her pulse had quickened. There was no danger, all the vampires being inside the factory and not outside where they were. Not that many were inside either. Seemed like Spike had managed to thin the numbers quite effectively.

Buffy leaned forward, pressing up against the glass and not at all worried that she could be seen from the inside. The inky blackness of night had her covered, and she just couldn’t help but drool. He’d lost the coat, and although she missed the seduction of all that leather slapping around his legs as he strutted, she suddenly couldn’t control the flood of want as she peaked at his really, really firm butt. NO! Why was she looking at his behind. ‘Must look at front’, she ordered herself and almost groaned out loud as he swiftly turned around. He must be ESPing. See, Evil…now her thoughts weren’t even her own. But her eyes were very definitely studying his front…and Holy Cow!

She felt her lips fall slack and drool pool in the corner as she focused entirely on his black clad body. Tight black fabric stretched over an undoubtedly firm and muscular chest, his arms showing the smoothness she would feel if she were close enough to touch, to trail just her pointy finger along the inside line of his forearm, to his bicep and then to his shoulder…and that thought set her nipples to tightening. As her body chemistry responded to that cool observation she let her eyes slip lower and felt her eyeballs freeze on his even tighter black clad lower half. Those jeans left nothing to the imagination, and he wasn’t even turned on.

She was so caught up in the divine tableau he offered her hungry gaze that she almost missed his actions entirely. A warning growl from Angel catapulted her overheating mind out of the gutter and back up to Spike’s face. He was vamped out, and unlike her usual reaction to your garden-variety vamp, she found him kind of cute. Not Angel cute, of course. That would be of the bad, and evil vampire…not cute.

Buffy almost rolled her eyes at her own ridiculous effort to cover up that she found this guy serious crush material…totally swoon worthy. But his lips were moving, and she licked her lips in remembered delight at how exactly those lips felt against hers. Oops, ‘not going there’ she decided as Angel growled again rather close to her ear.

There seemed to be some kind of commotion down below and Buffy squinted to try and see better through the gross window. Angel nudged her aside as he slowly lifted it so they could hear what was going on and not destroy their eyesight by trying to peer through something covered in dirt and grease. Buffy smiled her thanks to her boyfriend, and leaned just slightly into the building.

Spike was standing alone, ‘when along came a spider’ Buffy thought meanly as a dark-haired beautiful vampire sidled up to him and began to stroke his cheek. The Slayer almost cheered as she saw Spike stiffen then step casually away from the girl. He mumbled something to her and then strode forward to drop to his knees in front of a small child that reeked of authority. It was so overwhelmingly powerful that Buffy felt it from where she was, and she flinched, spooked about what fighting this child would mean for her.

As the sexy tenor of his voice passed through her and made her bones vibrate, she almost lost clarity for a moment as she felt moist heat gush between her legs. Feeling uncomfortable, she sat a little back so she could clench her legs together. Angel glanced at her in surprise, his nose still twitching from the unexpected burst of arousal. He gave her an encouraging smile and turned back to the scene playing out on the inside. Buffy shook her head. Completely clueless! She grinned her relief.

“You failed.” Buffy startled at the cool authority that dripped from the small one’s mouth, suddenly apprehensive about the power he wielded.

“I, uh…let me see if I can get this right…I offer penance?” Cocky Spike was full on confronting and Buffy suddenly felt concern flood through her and turn her blood cold. Her fingers became claw-like as they gripped the window frame and she leaned a little further in.

Angel gripped his fist in her top and pulled her hard backwards, tapping his nose and leaning in to sniff at her to indicate that the vampires inside would pick up her scent if she wasn’t careful. The irritation that had flashed in her eyes dimmed slightly as understanding dawned, but it didn’t disappear totally.

She turned her head back to the blond posturing in front of the special child and she rolled her eyes in sudden acknowledgement of his almost child-like exuberance at getting into the fight.

She jumped as another vampire entered the scene, hostility flowing off him and lying stagnant in the air.

“Penance,” she heard him almost bellow. “You should lay down your life. Our numbers have been depleted, the Feast of St. Vigeous is ruined because of your impatience.”

“I was rash,” Spike told them in a voice completely lacking in any degree of sincerity and Buffy almost giggled. She was completely enthralled with his ‘couldn’t give a crap’ attitude to danger, and she suddenly wondered if he fought as good as he kissed.

Her lips began to buzz from remembered passion and she almost succumbed to lusty daydreams when she heard his voice continue.

“And if I had to do it all over again…”

Buffy leaned forward again in anticipation and shivered from his almost jubilant burst of laughter.

“Who am I kidding?”

Her brow furrowed, tense waiting for his next move. Shock gripped her as she saw his body move toward the annoying child and grab for him.

“I would do it exactly the same, only I’d do this…” With the boy in his arms and shouts on the air, Buffy watch completely enraptured as Spike put the child in a cage, locking it all while kicking away the mocking vamp of earlier and laying him flat and unconscious in the background.

“First! From now on, we’re gonna have a little less ritual,” he started, interrupting his own speech by the effort of splashing the contents of a small canister of lighter fluid over the complaining child, and setting him alight, “and a little more fun around here.”

The high-pitched shrieking reverberated around the largely empty cavern of the factory, and Buffy remained stunned by the window. Despite his declarations to her amidst the heated kisses, she hadn’t really believed that he would get rid of the threat. Now she felt all hot and flushy that he did something so huge for her. And hey, big with the statement…and he called her baby, and why exactly was she crushing again on the evil vampire…with the evil hair?

The left over minions dispersed, and Buffy could automatically feel Angel tense at her side as the only vamps left in the room was the blonde babe and his ho-bag. The brunette was swaying and laughing, then she twirled around him as he tried to back away.

“It’s time for the celebration, my Spike. Our guests are just drifting on the outside, they don’t know yet to come in.” She suddenly stopped all movement as she turned to the window that Buffy was half hanging out of before quickly pulling back and ducking down.

“What is it, pet?”

The Slayer suddenly felt annoyed at that caring tone of voice, aimed at the fruit loop who had just given the insanity dance on the dirty cement floor. She lifted her head enough for her eyes to just see over the edge of the window as crazy vamp ho twirled back to look questioningly at Spike. Though her movements remained graceful, Buffy could see the frailty that clung like spider webbing to the other woman. The vampiress still staring intently at Spike. The bitch who was now touching his face.

Buffy had balled her fists in angered frustration when her ears picked up the beginning of more conversation, and as the words began to sink in, her eyes widened in surprise; all thought of Angel and his existence evaporated from her mind.

“You don’t love me anymore.”

Blue and green eyes pinned the suddenly morose female vampire to the spot. Her head waved from side to side like a snake uncoiling, and Buffy sucked in an expectant breath.

“You’ve switched your dark princess for white, and now all the lights will stay on. There’s nobody left for princess.”

Buffy leaned back, confounded. ‘Huh?’ What was with the freaky loony talk that only a fellow insane patient could decipher? She shook her head and smiled, convinced the nutbag was on her last leg anyway. But then the shocks kept a comin’ as she realised that Spike was answering as if he actually knew what the vamp had said, and she so needed to find out this loon’s name.

“Drusilla.” Angel released her name like a caressing whisper on the wind. Buffy watched him, noticing her lack of jealousy that he knew who this was, just accepting that she had a name for the one whom she’d run out of ‘bag’ terms to apply to her.

“I’m sorry, Dru,” continued the strange conversation on the factory floor. Buffy gave it her total focus, while suppressing the urge to growl. “But it’s true, luv…there’s someone…” His voice drifted into an uncomfortable silence as the brunette latched onto him, his chin held tightly while bringing his face closer to hers, her eyes seeking and clashing with his unwilling gaze. “Dru, don’t do this.”

“You’ve been keeping secrets, my Spike. You’ve moved on to where the sun is dimming. The rain is falling and sunshine is too afraid to play. But here she is all young and carefree…” Her aspect altered as she saw things in his eyes that caused Buffy to lean further in, trying to catch the meaning behind the uber weird display. The Slayer fell back, though, at an abrupt squeal of joy.

“Daddy is returning.” She stepped back from Spike and clapped her hands in obvious delight.

“No, Dru. It isn’t Daddy. You know it isn’t. He has a soul now, but he’ll come by an’ see you. Maybe he can help make you well again.”

Laughter echoed off the walls as dancing was once again the activity inside, and Buffy felt a burst of pure hilarity push to be released. She clapped a hand across her mouth to hold it in, and squeezed her eyes shut to the display. How anyone could put up with the loopy routine for long was anyone’s guess.

Then in a short amount of her inattention it became obvious that ‘Dru’ had retired to elsewhere for the night, leaving Spike all forlorn in his loneliness.

Angel pulled Buffy back from the window, but she didn’t release her claw-like grip, continuing that tenable connection to the goings on of inside. He jerked his head, indicating his desire to leave, but she waved him away.

“Just give me a minute,” she whispered to him and went back to watching alone. She didn’t need special hearing powers to hear his angry growl as he leapt down and stomped away from the building, but strangely she didn’t care.

She stayed focused and intent on the pacing form of her would be seducer of earlier in the night. Looking again at the cage, Buffy smiled happily at the destruction of the Annointed One. She almost wished the Master had been there to see it, but then that would be bad. She frowned.

“Bugger,” he was mumbling to himself. “Bugger, bugger, bollocks.”

His pacing picked up speed, his muscular legs stretching out in front of him as he ate up the ground in his anxiety.

“Bloody Dru!” She could hear his frustration and wondered what he was so upset about. From where she had been eavesdropping the female vamp had only spouted a heap of incomprehensible dribble.

He ran his hands through his hair and spun on his heel, heading back in her direction too fast for her to duck. In seconds their eyes clashed and held, time seeming to stop as something monumental seemed to slip in between them. Collective breaths were held, blood began to roar, and one heart started pounding a mad beat of syncopated rhythm. If she didn’t feel so suddenly alive, Buffy could have sworn she was dead.

He took one step toward her and her mouth went dry. Her eyes expressed her serious objection to his movement, her confused need to be closer to him rioting against her Slayer purpose of dusting him. One more step had her pushing away from the window, jumping to the ground and running after Angel.

She had never spent a night more wigged in her entire life!

Chapter 3

Spike stood outside the door of the place he remembered was Angel’s, eyeing the open frame wryly. He waited, watching Angel as his grandsire stared back, both silent and uncooperative about beginning the greetings.

Eventually, Spike decided to give in to his more generous nature; after all, he knew Angel didn’t end up with the girl. Well, not completely anyway. He took a step forward, letting his lips part to form a sentence when he was stunned into immobility.

“What’s wrong with Dru?”

Spike leaned against the door jam, grateful that the start of this confrontation was with a topic that concerned them both.

“She’s weak. We were attacked…in Prague…she nearly didn’t make it out.”

Angel watched the younger vampire, the stirrings of familial loyalty becoming stronger the more time he allowed it.

“Maybe sire blood will help?” Spike prompted, and nearly fell over when Angel shared his agreement.

“I’ll come by to see her tomorrow night. What about you?” The big brooding brunette watched his grandchilde shrewdly, noticing the shift of his eye, the suddenly rigid body.

“What about me?” he stalled, not ready yet to tell any or all of his story. Besides the fact that he didn’t think the great poof would believe him?particularly if he shared the details about shagging Buffy? he had the uneasy feeling that if his knowledge of the events of the future got into the wrong hands, he’d be buggered over yet again. And this time, the reward meant too much to him.

“Why aren’t you acting like the real Spike?”

Spike felt his spine stiffen and his hands clenched in irritation.

“And you would know who the real Spike is, how?” He raised his gaze, eyes burning bright and determined into the unsuspecting stare of his sire.

“I know you, Spike. I know who you are and I know what you are. You’re up to something.”

“That might be right on the money, Sire. But what I’m offering you right now is the chance to do Dru right. You owe ‘er. I’m not here to cause trouble.” ‘Well, not much,’ he justified to himself quietly.

“That’s too easy. I don’t believe you.”

Spike could feel the angry build up of rage and he grit his teeth hard to try and stem damning words from flowing spontaneously out his mouth.

“Since when ‘ave I been a liar?” The younger vampire existed now in a whirl of affronted rage, memories of being beaten for his honesty leaving smarting memories upon his dead flesh. He had the scintillating satisfaction of seeing Angel cringe.

“Okay.” The alpha vamp lowered his head, conceding defeat. “So you really want me to help Dru. What more are you trying to do?”

“I want you to take her on. Help her. You’re her sire. Time you did your job.”

Angel tried to hide his shock, but the request was so far out of left field that he found it impossible.

“What?”

Spike stood stubbornly silent, and Angel felt himself clawing the air for reasonable explanations to this. Dru was Spike’s world. He couldn’t understand what could have brought about such a sudden shift in the younger vamp’s focus.

And then little hints of the unease he had felt around Buffy tonight took on a shape that almost left him gasping.

“She said you fell on her.”

“That’s one way of tellin’ it, I s’pose.” Spike didn’t even pretend that he didn’t understand the sudden change in topic. He smirked, and laughed on the inside at the flash of pain in the older vamp’s chocolate eyes. The warmth abruptly turned arctic as Angel growled with anger.

“You’re after her, then? Buffy? Is this some new way you have of killing Slayers?”

Spike couldn’t help it. One minute he was still propped against the doorframe, and the next his fangs were slashing the air, fists making contact with bone and flesh. Angel flew from his seat and hit the wall behind, knocking over all that had been in his path.

“I won’t be killin’ ‘er!” Spike spat in a rage. “I won’ be hurtin’ ‘er. Which is more ‘an I can say about some.”

Angel jumped to his feet, his own fangs and ridges forming a possessive warning.

“You have nothing to offer her, Spike. And I don’t believe you for a second. Killing Slayers is what you do.” He’d formed fists, cocked ready should Spike launch himself into the fray once again.

It was obvious when the violence drained from Spike’s body, though, and a relaxed if not completely trustful air fell onto the room.

“I swear I’m not here to hurt ‘er. I only want to help.”

Jealousy flared and changed the rhythm between the two male vampires.

“She has me,” Angel almost snarled. “She doesn’t need you.”

Spike felt the confidence seep away for short moments, but flashes of memory dictated different truths to him.

“She needs someone who will always be lookin’ out for ‘er. That’s not you.”

Angel puzzled, trying to beat back the fuzz of unreality that had cloaked his whole night.

“But you can help--not that I believe for a second that you actually want to-- and still hang on to Dru. Why are you trying to pass her on to me?”

Spike felt the conversation veer dangerously close to dicey territory. He wasn’t ready to disclose-- refused to in fact. Why did he always let Angel rile him up so much that he lost his sense? He chose to tell the truth, or as veiled a version of the truth as he wanted the other to know.

“Dru has always been wantin’ to get back to Daddy. You’re ‘ere, so you can go to her. Our time is over an’ that’s all I’m sayin’ on the subject. Savvy?”

Not waiting for further bursts of argument, Spike turned on his heel and strode gracefully into the shadows of the night.

The air was brisk as it whooshed around him, and he felt a true smile tug at his lips for the first time since Buffy had shagged him rotten. Not that that occasion had remained light and carefree for long. Still, this was a rocking situation he found himself in, and he felt completely overwhelmed by the possibilities. He felt near paralyzed with how delicious everything was. Now he just had to stop and make a mental list of all the things he’d unintentionally bollocksed up--and the things that had been undoubtedly evil--and go about reversing them.

Yes, he could feel the spring return to his step, the joy re-enter his night as he pounded the pavement, not exactly sure where he was headed. He felt carefree, positive, and wholly whipped--but deliriously happy about it. Buffy had let him touch her, kiss her potent lips. Bloody hell, there was fire between them, even right back to this time. Why had he been such a clueless git to have not noticed? Or he had, but back then he’d preferred fighting to fucking. No, that wasn’t right either…loving. He loved her with everything he was and no way was he goin’ to screw this up again.

He knew that it was usually the outcome of such ill thought out wishes with vengeance demons to cause some God-awful consequence, and, as a rule, he was right behind the shunning of such a fool thing. In this instance, however, he couldn’t get the streaked blond beauty out of his head. She was pure ambrosia for the reforming devil. Her mouth could feed him for several lifetimes, and he had intimate knowledge of all the other delights she could offer him.

But he had to calm down. This Buffy was so young. Admittedly, she’d given it up for Angel not too far from now, but now that Spike was turning a new leaf, and giving the girl options, he could be sure that he could win her. She had choices now, and the risk of being sucked wholly and solely in by the big brooding brow was minimised. If he could play this right, he could be her first--her true love--and he could help her learn the truth about the difference between having and not having a soul and all the rubbish that came with the Watcher’s assumptions.

Speaking of, Spike felt none too startled to find himself outside the complex that housed Rupert’s pokey little flat. He stood at the entry, silently debating with himself about whether or not to risk going in to say hello. A playful smirk teased his lips, and, hands in jean pockets, he turned in the gate.

The unreality of it all bounced off him as he pounded on the Watcher’s door, wondering if the good little librarian actually hung out here much during Buffy’s school days. Spike knew that once his girl went to college, this was the Scooby centre of operations, but before that he pondered if the children had even seen the inside of where Rupert lived. He was pretty sure all the stories from this time focused around the school library.

The door opened and he found himself staring into the apprehensive eyes of his fellow Brit and one time landlord.

“Hullo, mate. Thought you might like to share a bottle of somethin’. Put on a few vinyl’s and we can have a chat.” Spike watched as anxiety and fear battled with interest, hoping that for once the old man would take a risk and give him the benefit of the doubt. Despite hoping for it, Spike nearly fell over in a dead faint when the Watcher stepped aside and held the door open.

“Come in…er…Spike, is it?” His namby pamby accent seemed to say the name with distaste and Spike determined that he and Giles were going to be well on the way to bosom buddies before the night was through. A good bottle of scotch could make comrades of the bitterest enemies.

Giles thought he had witnessed the glassiness of the vampire’s eyes, but then he shook his head and gave a thankful nod before walking through the held door and making his way further into the flat.

“Buffy told me you killed the Anointed One.” The statement was simple, factual and invited no further confirmation. He received a nod of acknowledgement before Spike flopped himself into a dining chair, rubbing his hand over the back.

“Ah, memories,” he reminisced and chuckled at the images of being tied loosely to the chair while the Slayer harped on about her commando and boyfriend issues. Well, there’d be none of that this time round. Little farmboy commando wasn’t getting a looksie if Spike could help it.

He jumped slightly when a full glass of amber liquid was placed directly in front of his hand and he reached for it gratefully.

“He was right annoying, that little one.”

“Is that why you killed him? Because he annoyed you?” Giles watched the vampire behind narrowed eyes, his hand resting rather heavily on a stake.

“I probably would have killed him eventually,” Spike joked, even if he was the only one he expected to get it. He sighed as the guarded expression remained prominent on Rupert’s face. “I did it for Buffy,” he clarified finally, enjoying the look of confusion the Watcher now sported.

“And why would you do that for Buffy?”

Spike considered his answer for long minutes, not sure what to say. He instinctively knew that if he admitted to the watcher that he was in love with Buffy that he might not make it out of the flat undusty. Although now he was pre-chip and he could at least defend himself, against Rupert he knew he wouldn’t.

When he finally raised his eyes they showed a sadness and dejection that he’d thought had been discarded the moment of demon girl’s spell; when he’d realised he had a second chance.

“Look, I can’t tell you. Just, things are not goin’ to go the way they could have. I’m not the bad guy here; I want to help Buffy stay alive. How can you knock that back?” He paused as he allowed a smirk to form on his plump pink lips. “’Sides, I’m better lookin’ than the poof, an’ I don’ brood. Not goin’ to leave her if the goin’ gets tough. I’ll be here and I’ll do everythin’ I can to prove to you an’ her that you can trust me.”

Giles seemed completely flummoxed and his hand wandered away from the stake, seemingly too entranced by the possibilities of a soulless demon offering hope.

“A-Are you seeking redemption?” he asked at last, his voice suffused with hints of disbelief.

Spike flinched, then flashed back upon a memory that had not been prominent in his past, but something he now found might be kind of relevant. A moment in his crypt, counting money as Giles offered the suggestion that his defanging with the chip could have been an impetus for something more for him. At the time, he’d fobbed off the possibility, but now he could see the roundabout journey of it all.

The chip had taken away his ability to hunt, though not to remain evil. In fact, in true evil demon fashion, he’d rebelled against his newly neutered state by trying to stir up trouble between Buffy and her mates, aligning himself with the true Big Bad of the moment: Adam. His plan had fallen through, pretty much like they’d always done. Still, at the end when he’d been betrayed himself by the half-human half-demon, he didn’t rush on out and find another way to survive. He’d hidden in the shadows and protected the Scoobies from attack. And further aligned himself with the Slayer.

A number of half-hearted efforts to return to his evil ways never fully panned out, and now he recognised the influence of Buffy on his actions. Her light overshadowed all his own personal dark, and he could see the lightening of Spike clearer now that he was away from the repressive violence of ‘resurrected Buffy’. If being in her light meant he could shine a little for her, then sure, redemption could be his new kick. If it really came down to it, he knew he would sacrifice his life to save the world if it meant she could live in it. He didn’t need a soul to tell him that.

Giles’s gaze had remained unrelenting for the period that Spike phased out, sifting through his thoughts and feelings till he felt comfortable with an answer.

“Not sure redemption is the right word,” he began, and frowned when he felt unusually tongue-tied. “Just want to make things right. Let her have an easier time of things. She’s got some hard roads to travel and she doesn’ need them to be impossible. If I can lighten’ the load, then I will. If I can help her save the world, I will. But I’m not gettin’ a soul, and I’m not gettin’ poofy hair or lifts.”

The room was loud in its silence as both reached the end of what logic pushed them to say. Giles was completely dumbfounded by the vampire’s words, and in complete disagreement with commonsense, his stake lay abandoned on the table as he stretched his legs and gathered together his bottled liquor.

“How did you go from being the killer of Slayers, to wanting to keep one alive?”

Spike felt strangely affected by the lack of venom in this human’s voice, completely unaccustomed to non-judgmental Giles. He was starting to curse the fact that he had so much history with these people and he was unable at this stage to reveal it all.

“I’ve jus’… been through some things,” he offered cryptically before suddenly grasping the wisdom of a change in topic.

“So, how much do you know about Angelus’s curse?”

If there was one thing Spike was beyond determined to achieve-- even if he completely turned everything arse over tit-- he would make sure Angel kept his slimy hands off Buffy and not risk losing his soul. He’d keep the chit from making the gelled one her one true love and destroying all hope for fellas pursuing her in the future. Not that there would be any: he’d be first in line.

An attack of nerves caught him unawares, and he felt his throat constrict at the sudden thought that repeated endlessly in his mind.

She had told him--on many more than one occasion--that she didn’t love him, could never love him. He’d thought coming back to when she was innocent, unhurt and devastated, that he could make her see how special the thing between them could be. But what if nothing changed? What if, even in this time, even if he’d not fought her and tried to kill her, she still felt no magic between them? What if he was destined to just love and never be loved in return?

So caught up in his fear, he didn’t hear Giles’s response to his question. Until he recognised the frown of annoyance and he made the effort to draw back from the nightmarish thoughts that could well destroy him.

“Sorry, mate. Got lost in somethin’ then. What were you sayin’?”

Giles began again, obvious in his interest of discovery. “We know next to nothing about his soul, I’m afraid. Do you have any information that could tell us more?”

Spike burned with the need to lay it all on the table, but they weren’t ready; didn’t trust him enough to take his word. And if he just came out and blurted the truth of the curse now, then it might push Buffy further into the brooding poof’s arms, and that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

“All’s I know it’s a curse, cast on ‘im when he ate a favourite gypsy girl.”

“A curse?” Giles whispered, his mind ticking over into research mode. “Of course, he told Buffy this last year. But to hear you say it--well, I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t think there would be more to it. There are always ways to break a curse, aren’t there? To make him feel remorse for all the murder and torment he’d caused. Quite ingenuous. But surely the gypsies wouldn’t have left an opening for Angelus to return?” The little smile of academic interest and appreciation made Spike’s teeth feel on edge. And suddenly he could see his solution, could see a way to enlighten them, or at least set the ball rolling on discovering all Angel’s deep and dirty secrets. And this time, save lives and heartbreak. Preferably his.

“Not as simple as that, mate. Curses are usually a bugger to keep under control. Not sure exactly the wording but there could be consequences. And unleashing Angelus is not something you want to do. What you need is to investigate it and make sure it’s safe.” Spike sat back and waited for the incurable researcher to click in.

Giles sat in an agitated need for information, for knowledge.

“You could ask that gypsy bird at your school.” Spike had heard that the teacher had kept her identity a secret and it had caused a world of hurt in the end. As far as he was concerned, it was time for her to be outted. But he had to tread careful like, make sure he didn’t give too much away.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Giles in confusion.

“The teacher. The black-haired bird? Obviously gypsy.” Spike tried for an expression of unsure distraction. “Don’t you think?” and nearly fisted his hand in the air as he hooked Rupert to the possibility.

“Yes,” he said hesitantly, thoughtfully. “Yes, she does at that. I will be certain to have a chat to her tomorrow morning. Thank you, Spike, for pointing something out to me I should have noticed months ago.”

“No problem with that, Rupes. Now best be going. Might do a quick patrol before headin’ back under cover.” As Spike regained his feet, he was restrained by a hand on his arm.

“You are travelling with that female vampire? Drusilla? Is she of the same mind as you?”

Spike smiled sadly as he contemplated the mad, weak countenance of his true sire. He shook his head slowly.

“No, but I’m gettin’ Peaches to take on some of his clan responsibility. He’s leader and her sire, so he should be there to look out for her. It’s his call what should be done with her.” He turned quickly and walked to the door, missing the look of astonishment that flashed across Giles’s face.

“I thought she was your sire, your lover for over a century?”

The voice halted him with his hand circling the door handle. He didn’t turn back, didn’t reveal his anxious concerns regarding Angel’s decisions for Dru.

“She is my sire, but she isn’t my future.” And he swung the door inward and strode back out into the night.




He’d blinked and missed it. The entire bloody walk. He hadn’t meant to go to her house, but all things considered, he could hardly be surprised. He’d spent the better part of the past two years lurking under her tree, smoking himself more to death while he waited and watched for any sign of her. Just hoping for a show that she hadn’t ever given him.

Not once had he caught her disrobing in her room. Probably explained his risky excursions to her lingerie drawer. The mystery of it all had been too tantalising and being the evil git that he was, he couldn’t resist sneaking into her bedroom and lifting a couple of those secrets for his pleasure later at his crypt.

Now he stood under the tree and argued with himself about the wisdom of climbing it. One hand rested against the bark while he told himself he was risking everything by coming to her, but also wondering if his invite still existed, even though he’d gone back in time. Still busy contemplating, he didn’t hear the soft whisk of her bedroom window sliding up, nor hear her as she leaned out with a not too subtle ‘pssst’.

It was only at the dulled thump of her feet hitting the grass that he snapped out of his dejected decision to not go up to her. He blinked before offering her a wide ecstatic grin and lurched forward to sweep her into his arms.

“Evenin’, pet. How’d you know I was here?” He felt as giddy as a schoolboy as she rested her tiny but powerful palms against his chest. Until he noticed the slight pressure holding him back a little.

“Tinglies,” she offered simply, her head to the side as she contemplated him, and the streetlights bouncing off her shiny hair. “What are you doing here?” Her question brought a smile to his aching lips. He felt ready to die for the possibility of laying one on her, right here under the tree at her house. Nothing like being confronted with his straightforward no-nonsense Slayer to move his libido into top gear. His lips belonged on hers. It was pure agony to be distant.

“Couldn’t stay away from you, Goldilocks.”

She thrust him away, acting only a little concerned as his back slammed into the bark of the tree--though her frantic heartbeat betrayed her concern--and crossed her arms over her sublime yet perky breasts. His mouth watered at the thought of all he had tasted, and was finding he had to exert supervillain powers to control himself from pouncing on her and showing her all she could have.

“Less with the flirty and more with the talky,” she told him with an even greener tint to her emerald eyes. “Who’s Morticia?” And then her foot began to tap.

Spike was mesmerised, and seriously turned on. But then her words cut through the lust fog of his brain and he turned confused eyes to her.

“Who?” he asked, completely stumped. And then he remembered. She meant Drusilla, and her calling his ex-lover back to his mind was suddenly painful. He even felt a little guilty for forgetting about his dark princess for those moments.

“You know? Drusilla, the Wonder Loon.” Her voice was sharp with something he couldn’t dare to hope for, but reason had nothing on patience when he was dying for some sign that she could care for him.

His lips curled in a relieved, soft smile and he gazed upon her with warm, melting looks of affection.

“Dru is my sire, pet. I’ve been with her for over a hundred years.” He held a breath as Buffy’s eyes went wide, and her heartbeat picked up pace.

“You’ve been flirting, and making with the kissage, and you already have a girlfriend?” Her eyes shone with what almost looked like hurt and betrayal and he panicked.

“No!” he shouted and lunged forward to take her back in his arms. He crushed her to his chest and he breathed in the fruity fragrance of her hair.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Buffy. Not anymore. I’m gonna find a place, get out on my own. Time for me to be my own man. But Dru needs carin’. Peaches is gonna look after her now. It’s his place as head of the clan.”

Buffy could feel his lips lost in her hair, feel his hands as they rubbed subtle circles over her back, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t stop the huge sigh of relief that passed over her lips. And then his words meshed together and she found she didn’t understand everything.

“Who or what is Peaches?” she asked in that hoity-toity voice he loved so much. He grinned, feeling like a little evil payback was in order.

“That would be Angel, pet. You know, tall, dark and forehead? Your boyfriend?”

She had the decency to blush and Spike thought it was adorable. He couldn’t believe the fun he was having in getting to know teenage Buffy--girly Buffy. He’d been so intent on killing her back then that he hadn’t taken the time to see her. Sure, he’d noticed the innocent seduction of her body swaying to the music, got hard when he saw how her body stretched taut and strong each time he fought her. But he didn’t get into her head, didn’t listen to her quips, didn’t want to understand her teenage insecurity and boy traumas. Bloody hell, he’d missed too much.

Even worse than being evil, his demon was stubborn. But as usual, he found a way he could blame it all on Angelus. If the pansied git hadn’t told him about Slayers in the first place, he would never had sought them out for the fights of his unlife. Then again, he might never have taken her on, either. Right about now, he felt like holding prayer sessions to thank God for Vengeance Demons.

“He is so not my boyfriend,” Buffy denied forcefully, breaking through his preoccupied walk through history. “Well, not…really…” she muttered guiltily. “We’re not going steady or anything,” she finished on a wave of defiance. Her eyes were fixed on the grass; her foot kicking at innocent tufts that had the misfortune of being in line with her shoe.

“Guess that means you’re free as a bird, then,” he teased her. He laughed as he heard the blood rush to the surface of her skin. She looked at him through a curtain of finely blended blond highlights and he felt the tenderness for her well up inside of him.

It was all so different, yet the same. His feelings seemed so much more intense, though not stronger. He felt a freedom and an allowance to feel which he had never felt before. The encounters he’d had with the Slayer that allowed him to touch her-- emotionally and physically--had always been fraught with ill-disguised disgust. Every caress was under forbearance, and it hurt. Everything about his contact with Buffy hurt. Which was why he wanted a numbing spell in the first place, yeah?

And now he’d gone back. Back to the place where their history span together, twisted and intersected until it all got so confused. The hate and desire and lust, and later, the love. Every emotion he’d ever felt for the girl was extreme, was everything that he was. And right now, just checking out the prettiness of her youth, her happiness to be alive and so far untouched by grief, made his hard on pretty damn extreme.

It was difficult to trust, but his luck had seemingly changed for the better. He’d already kissed her, let his fingers glide against her skin like smooth cream, and created little waves of ‘maybes’ that had already inspired her to downplay her connection with the Grand one. Had allowed her to submit to the touch of an evil demon and enjoy it.

He felt the burn of her consideration, her eyes pinning him still.

“Wanna patrol?” Her voice was hesitant, but hopeful. Almost like she really wanted him to come and kill baddies with her.

Spike could feel himself light up, never having felt so ebullient in his life.

“I’ve a better idea, pet. Let’s spar.”

Before the words had fully left his mouth she was gone, sprinting across the lawn and road and taking a familiar path to the first cemetery in her path. His initial burst of speed in a run caught him up, but an evil grin consumed him and he took off in a flying leap, tackling her hard to the ground.

They rolled and struggled, until Buffy ended up wrestling with thin air. She blinked in surprise before springing to her feet. Her coat, a pale colour that was going to have obscene looking stains after their tussle, swished around her as she stalked the vampire. He brought his ridged face forward, mapped out her movement and calculated his plan of attack.

He had advantage, and he relished it. He knew exactly how she fought, and thanks to the chip giving him more worthy opponents than the occasional strong human, he was more a force to reckon with than when he originally went rounds with her. Still, once he pounced and began to land blows, he refused to hold back. He wanted her to know what kind of a threat he could have been to her.

He tossed her over his shoulder and she landed hard against a crypt wall, not even pausing as she made it back to her feet and swept the dust off her coat. The flash of the happy lips she tossed him made him feel light, awed, and very bloody horny.

The tempo of her heartbeat increased so much that he was using his fists in time to it. She caught almost all of them and he copped a kick or two to pay him back for the ones she missed. Then he could smell blood on the air, the crimson and sweet aroma of her blood and he froze. The power and strength caught him up in tendrils of exquisite wanting and he felt useless with numb limbs. His cock ached and pointed, wanting her so badly that he was nearly likely to juice up his pants. Not very gentleman-like.

But she seemed to notice the moment he stopped with the fight, her panting breaths coinciding with the blood pulsing to his cock, and finally his eyes fell upon the spill. A cut on her lip--the most erotic bleeding in history, he thought dumbly. She moved toward him, concern and confusion marring her pace, but eventually she was before him and he could smell her, could damn near taste her and all he wanted was to possess her. Mark her. Make her forever his.

His fangs disappeared, despite his urgent desire to bite her, and he watched her with lust-drugged eyes. He was almost too rigid to move; desperate for some contact with her that would prove to him that this new chance would be worth it. But the power of her blood, of his new circumstance held him to the spot, making him an easy mark for her.

And finally she was close enough to touch, though he still couldn’t move. Not that it made a difference because marking was the order of the day. She leapt forward and attacked his mouth and he sucked in that blissful taste of her blood and felt himself cum, his hips jerking with the pleasure of having her essence in his body. He felt her struggle back but he held her, dragging her body flush against his as he allowed his tongue to thrust into her mouth.

He felt the discomfort of the sliminess in his jeans, but he wasn’t embarrassed. He’d just experienced something so spontaneous, something so hot that he’d never had with his Buffy, and he wasn’t going to waste time with awkward apologies. His hands found her waist as he held her against him, moaning as he felt her raise a leg and clamp it around him.

His lips caressed hers, demanding to be allowed sanctuary and making promises he had every belief in. He’d made promises to her and he’d kept every one. As he tangled his hand in her hair, he promised to help her fight evil. As he licked her bottom lip before sucking it in between his teeth, he promised to help protect her family. As he cupped his hand around her bottom and pushed her further into his once again hardening cock, he promised to love her forever. As his hand found a path under her top to wander over her delicious skin, he promised to never leave her. And as he felt himself lose control and clamp around the soft but luscious skin of her breast, tweaking the nipple till she cried in exquisite torture, he promised her the world and everything he was.

So it came as a shock when he found himself slamming hard into the side of a mausoleum, watching in disbelief as her fist covered her raw and ravaged mouth.

“This…is wrong. You’re evil. A vampire. You have no soul.”

Spike could only stare at her in horrified stupefaction.

“Holy fucking hell,” he roared. His game face surged and his fangs were itching to sink into something soft. “That argument is really fucking old. And bloody redundant, and you, you are going to admit that one day if it bleeding well kills me. I ‘aven’t killed a human in almost three years. An’ now it’s through bloody choice, you stupid bint. I’ve taken out the little kiddy to spare you the trouble, promised your watcher I’ll look out for you, and holy fuck I get so hot around you I think I’ll combust. And you dive down my throat, suck up everything in me, and then decide it’s wrong. I don’t think you’ve got a handle on what’s wrong, sweetheart. I guess that bleeding parade with the trombones is still a long bloody way off. How fucking typical!”

His amber eyes flashed, his fists pumped at his sides and his fury seeped through his skin and voice till she felt scorched.

And all Buffy could do was watch as the hottest guy she knew abandoned her in the cemetery. She turned dejectedly on her heel, wondering about the explosive temper of the blonde vamp, and made her way home.

“What’s with the parade? And I hate trombones,” she muttered, and just walked while softly rubbing her lips with her finger. They were sore, sensitive…and bleeding she realised as her finger came away red.

Well, that explained the out of control passion on his part.

And despite it all, she smiled, and whooped as she took off at Slayer speed for home, and some rather nice dreams about sexiness in a slight but rather compact package.

And ewww…did he come in his pants?

Chapter 4

Her moans and sighs of pleasure pressed upon the still air of her room, her window closed against any interference outside. Legs became caught, entangled in dampened sheets as she writhed to the tune of his passion. She couldn’t help but whimper at his touch, the cool stroke of fingers against the skin of her ass making her arch off the mattress, hands grasping frantically for something to hold.

Lost in sensorial bliss, she suddenly stilled as fingers sought her centre. Burning heat and liquid smoothed and spread over her sensitive button, fingers inserting inside her slick but scorching hole. Motion began again as she felt the nearing of something explosive, something monumental, and just as his fingers massaged her to the edge, she sat up gasping, squealing his name.

“Spike!”

Oh God! She itched and wriggled while sitting up in her bed, almost sobbing with frustration. When through will alone she popped, her satisfaction gushing down her legs, she was suddenly grateful for whatever impulse had told her to go to bed pantyless that night.

It wasn’t until she sank back against the pillows that she recognised the name she had called? the vampire she had been lusting after? had not been Angel. For long moments she felt no guilt. Felt nothing but the immense happiness that she had felt something so mindblowingly stunning.

Something so adult.

Something so incredibly naughty and exciting.

It was almost ten minutes later that she finally realised that Angel had never inspired such a dream, such a reaction from her.

And then she did feel guilty. She felt her words come back to smack her up the side of the face, the denial to Spike that Angel was her boyfriend. It was just lust, pure and simple. Lust making her do the wacky, making her want the bad soulless vampire. And that was undeniable. She so did want the soulless vampire. Preferably on his knees.

Beyond the words, were her actions. Thinking of Angel had never made her tear up her bed in dreamlike passion, had never made her squirm against his make-believe cold tongue. Which just emphasised again how twisted and wrong it all was. She loved Angel. Didn’t she? Feeling a little with the not so much, what with her body still vibrating from the heated tingles of Spike dreams. Again, this thing with Spike? Lust. Nothing more, nothing less. And what was wrong with her for lusting after the evil creatures?

Feeling a circular bout of reproach about to springboard her morning, Buffy raised her determined body and made quick time to the bathroom. A nice hot shower would put it all out of her head. Of course, hot…hmmm, Spike was hot, his eyes, his body, his moves, his touch. Lusty wantage, bad Buffy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Buffy wasted no time in getting ready for school, now that guilt was settling over her like an oppressive apocalyptic shroud. It was always with the bad, whatever happened to her, whatever she felt. She was so beyond being patient while waiting for the good. Angel was good. Buffy just had to cling to that. A big beautiful soul made Angel number one good in her book, and as sexy as Spike might be, and as dangerously gorgeous his lips were?especially when they were sucking the life out of her from her own lips? he was off limits.

OFF LIMITS. She would just have to internally shout it to herself for the entire day. Maybe then it would sink in. Might be good if she didn’t seek him out either.

Which was how she found herself backtracking to the factory where she had seen him with the black widow nutbag. Back to the same grimy window she had spied through the previous night. Now she just felt like a little, well, spy. She was patient for all of two minutes, tapping the wall with her fingers ready to storm in and have a few words with the mysterious yet hot vampire, and try to work out his vile evil plan. Buffy had been a Slayer now for long enough to know that there was always an evil plan.

All thoughts of slayerly spyage on the nasty vampire fled as a shirtless Spike wandered into her line of vision. Almost gasping for breath, Buffy slapped a hand over her mouth and allowed her eyes to continue hanging outside her head.

“Whoa Mamma,” she felt like screaming as her greedy eyes sucked up the sculpted goodness that was Spike’s torso. She licked her lips like she’d just survived a week in the dessert with no water, and felt herself losing control as her fingers itched to touch. Lines and hard curves dipped and swayed over his abdomen, and she redefined the word ‘cut’.

Working up the courage to discard her earlier suspicions for the feel of soulless goodness the likes of which Angel could never satisfy, she was about to jump from her hiding spot when the familiar brunette in question came strolling through the room.

“You’re early,” she heard Spike say just as she ducked back against the wall. Her heart began to thud with an out of control fear of being caught ogling the sexy vamp that was not him. He may have had suspicions last night while she had been riveted to the sights and events through the dirty window, but she didn’t think he would be so much with the understanding at her new bout of dreamy watching, particularly as there was school skippage involved.

The continuation of the conversation between her two vamps dragged her back to the moment and she got as close to the window as she could without being seen. No eyes or noses twitched in her direction, so she was taking that as a good sign of how far away she was to avoid vamp senses.

“I thought it would be better for me to show up now and catch you out in whatever evil plan you have for Buffy.” The brunette vampire stated his reason for visiting with such a cold, detached voice that Buffy nearly shuddered.

“Told you, mate. I have no evil plan for Buffy. I’m gonna help her, and if you think you’re puttin’ me through the third bloody degree about it again, I’ll stake your arse.”

Buffy felt a little puffed up at the confident way Spike confirmed his help, and then her eyes shot wide at the very real sound of a zipper lowering.

“Can’t you wait till I’ve gone, William?”

“Nope,” she heard along with the unmistakable thump of jeans hitting the cement floor. Or at least it sounded like jeans hitting the floor, and as she quickly gathered her nerve and peeked round the corner of the window, the perfect nude physique standing proud confirmed her ears. Which were now flaming red. Right along with the rest of her face and the tongue that was hanging out of her mouth.

“Oh God,” she lusted quietly to herself, just knowing that tonight’s set of dreams were going to be even hotter now that she was fired by a vision of the real thing.

“You want to barge in while I’m preparing for bed, Angelus, then you’re lucky enough to score a looksie. Bugger off to Dru, then. Just tell the minions I sent you.” Spike turned away, gathering together a blanket as he curled up on a single bed propped up against a wall, already ticking off his mental checklist as he dismissed his grandsire. Dust minions, find a new place to call home, see Buffy, find the Gem…

“Oh, and Peaches? You’d better have something set up for her tonight, cause I’ll be movin’ out. An’ like I warned you, she’s not comin’ with me.”

The bleached vamp flung himself backward on the mattress with renewed enthusiasm and quickly gave the elder vampire his equally sculpted back, which Buffy wasted no time ogling and memorising. Angel promptly marched from the room following an annoyed glare at Spike’s back.

With his body turned away from the window and the room otherwise empty, Buffy risked a little more proximity, and she leaned forward, eyes glazing over at the sight of his perfectly muscular and smooth back. The roundness of the ball of his shoulder made her mouth water, the sleek line of his neck exposed pale milky skin, extremely lickable, and yet emphasised by the gently curling platinum strands. Her panties were feeling rather sodden but she just couldn’t tear herself away, couldn’t let go of the hope that she might catch a glimpse of something else while she was being a nasty little voyeur.

Her breath hitched in her throat as Spike rolled, his eyes remained closed and that was the only thing that kept her from bolting. The blanket he’d draped over his nude frame had slipped, barely brushing over a hip as one leg fell over the side of the small bed.

Buffy could feel the heat spreading through her, could feel the intense need not just in her fingers to touch and trace all the magnificent lines revealed on his body, but also deep in places that were yet innocent of the things she couldn’t help but think about now. She wanted so much to give in and crawl through the window, climb into that bed and let the blond peel off all her clothes. Caught up in that fantasy she almost missed the guttural grown that passed the supposedly sleeping vamp’s lips as his hand sunk below the edge of the blanket. The new tenting of the blanket, and movement from underneath had Buffy scrabbling down fast and racing away from the building.

School was a welcome destination for the first time never and she walked faster just to get away from where she’d been. Her face was flaming, but Buffy considered that even a dressing down from Snyder would be welcome right now if it took her mind from what Spike’s hand just might have been about to do under that blanket.

Buffy gulped. Then she smiled and felt herself get all gushy and warm. For a few wicked minutes, she pondered the sensation and Spike’s reaction if she could replace his wandering hand with her more than enthusiastic tongue.

Buffy blushed hard again as she tried desperately to stop herself thinking of things she had no right to be. No reason to be. ‘No desire to be’, she lied to herself.

Images of her angelic-looking boyfriend fled on a wave of lust that nearly brought her trembling to her knees. And overtaking her sweet schoolgirl crush on him was his grandchilde, one gorgeous package of male flesh that made her die with wanting.

Buffy stopped dead in the corridor, suddenly being lost in a swarm of bodies as the bell rang and the student body exploded en masse from the various classrooms. Lost in a daze of sexual longing, Buffy made her way to the library, successfully making it through nothing more than pure instinct.

She was jolted from her sensual contemplation of manly soft lips, a pointed but wicked tongue and a kiss that could stop time, by the strident welcome of her best male friend. Feeling a little spooked and on the spot, Buffy was uncomfortably aware that all of her body heat now suddenly resided in her feet.

“And it’s a late good morning to the Buffster. Did you have residual vampires to slay?”

Buffy flushed, thinking of how thoroughly she was slaying Spike last night and couldn’t help but grin.

“Definitely a heavy night with the slayage,” she answered cheekily, secure in knowing that she was the only one who knew what she meant. Doing a quick sweep of the room, her eyes fell on Willow and Cordelia, the brunette looking a little worse for the wear but masking it well with the wonders of Maybelline. But then, maybe she was just born with the ability to look fresh despite painting over extremely heavy bags under the eyes.

Thank God for Willow. Buffy made her way to her friend, rather desperate for a personal conference and unloading of the lusty moments she’d had with the new big bad vampire.

“Wills and Cordy were late today, too,” Xander informed her dutifully. “Seems they weren’t sure that they were safe from the vamps roaming the school till the sun came up. Stayed here all night, in the janitors closet.” Xander sat fully serious, until a little tittering from Buffy sparked a deep-seated need for merriment. Within seconds he had collapsed on the floor, laughing heartily at the two girls who favoured him with irritated glares.

“Yes,” began Giles as he cleared his throat of his discomfort. “We should all be rather ashamed that we forgot to find Willow and make sure she was alright.”

“Hey,” shouted Cordelia, poised for flight in her indignation. “I was there, too. My life was threatened as much as geeky Willow’s was. Really feeling the love in this room,” she called back as she stomped from the room, the door swinging closed behind her.

“I’m sorry, Willow. It was rather a bizarre night, but I should have found you. Mom herded me to the car, though…and I guess, well, I forgot.” Buffy finished on a note of shame. And another dose of the ready guilt being served up on rather large platters today.

“That’s okay,” smiled Willow, before she settled resolve face on her features. “Just don’t leave me like that with Cordelia again. It was a very traumatic experience.”

Buffy giggled as she imagined Willow and bitchy Cordelia stuck in a closet for hours.

“What did you do?” she asked, awe giving her new respect for the tolerance of her best friend.

“Prayed,” Willow deadpanned and they both broke into a rush of giggles. “So, how did your night go really? I guess the bad vamp got away?”

Buffy couldn’t move. Everything that had happened between Spike and herself felt like it had been going on for days, pulling and twisting with her natural reaction to things in what felt like forever. But in one sentence, Willow reminded her that all the vamp lovin’ had been taken over just one night. That just blew her mind.

“Ah, things kind of ended up undusty with the vamp.” Buffy quickly snagged Willow by the arm, threading her arm through and linking them, she gently nudging the redhead out of the library.

“Willow and I are gonna go get some lunch,” she called to Giles over her shoulder and, not waiting for a response, tugged Willow out of the building.

When they finally stopped and sat beneath a shady tree, Buffy found Willow to be watching her with a stern expression on her face.

“Okay, give.”

Buffy looked at her friend and felt her words do the ramba in her mouth and tangoed right out of sight. Her mouth remained open but inactive.

“Buffy, you’re beginning to scare me. What happened? Couldn’t you kill him? Was that Spike vampire too strong?”

“Pffft! Too strong? No way,” Buffy denied, her voice carrying an inflection of righteousness. She was so repressing the fact that he could have killed her easily when they sparred the night before, what with the mysterious trombones and vampire temper tantrums. “Actually, we kinda didn’t get to the fighty part.” Well, not officially, she fudged mentally. Her voice definitely lost volume the longer she spoke, and Willow was straining to catch everything Buffy said.

Willow fixed Buffy with a confused raised eyebrow, and Buffy looked at the interesting grass and squirmed.

“But when he jumped through the window, he was all…” Willow posed her fists in the air and feinted gentle punches. “Pow.”

Buffy giggled. “Pow?”

“And Kazam. Don’t forget that part. So, what happened?” Willow sat on her patch of ground and waited patiently for the story.

“Well, he kind of made with the hugging, and then the kissing, and then there was a little…touching…” Buffy blushed hotly.

Willow gasped, but before she could recover from the surprise of that, Buffy rushed on to tell of her later meeting with the vamp. Finally she stopped, breathless as though her romp with the vampire last night had only just concluded.

“Wow,” was the redhead’s initial response. “And just, wow, and then Angel? Wow. I don’t envy you,” she muttered as she took a bite of her sandwich. And then her eyes shot wide as a thought seemed to take her over.

“So is he a better kisser than Angel?” Willow grinned as she saw the blissful expression spread over Buffy’s face. After waiting a few minutes for her friend to come out of the trance that the sparked memory of Spike kisses seemed to put her in, Willow gave Buffy a none to gentle shove and giggled as Buffy ended up sprawled on the grass.

“Oh yeah,” she replied with a knowledgeable smirk. “Those kisses could make a girl forget her own name.”

Willow’s face suddenly clouded as her concerns returned. “Buffy, he isn’t trying to seduce you so he can kill you, is he?”

A cold shiver raced through the Slayer’s body as she contemplated the thought, and found that her heart started beating hard and painfully at the possibility that Spike might still want to hurt her.

“He doesn’t have a soul, Will. How can I know? I…” she paused, fighting against tears that suddenly wanted to push their way through her tough resolve. “He made me feel so alive, while we were fighting. He says he wants to help me patrol and stuff, and I know Angel does that. But he’s so with the mysterious, and the evasive, and…”

“And Spike gets you hot?”

Buffy sat in quiet contemplation, almost afraid to admit any more of her feelings. “Angel makes me feel all schoolgirlish. He’s cute, and strong and protective. I mean, a vampire with a soul? Can it be any more romanitc? But Spike? He makes me feel like a woman; he makes my eyes glass over and my body flush and my heart pound. Yeah, Wills,” she admitted quietly. “He gets me hot, but I think it’s more than that. But he could be just trying to get under my defences. It could be a big scary plan to make me vamp steak.”

Willow felt chilled at the sadness that suddenly surrounded her friend.

“I’m just so confused. I mean, I finally got it together with the whole ‘Master making me dead’ thing, and Angel and I were starting to get somewhere pretty nice…and then along comes this sexy blond vamp threatening to kill me, who practically kissed me to death. And I want to be with him, get to know him. But I don’t know if I can trust him.”

Willow remained speechless, playing with her shoelaces thoughtfully.

“Miss Calendar does magic. Maybe she knows of a spell or something to tell if he’s lying to you?” she finally offered and was glad when Buffy’s gentle smile reappeared. With an enthusiastic nod, Willow’s hand was seized and she was hauled to her feet and they went running back to the library.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ah, Jenny. Just the woman I wanted to see.”

“Why Rupert, you can see me any time you wish,” the brunette offered with a saucy wink as she sashayed through the swinging library doors, sending Giles into a shy fit of glass cleaning.

“Yes, that would be…um…right…I had a visitor last night. He…ah…made some comments that, well, it brought a few things to light that I’m afraid to say I’m rather embarrassed to admit I hadn’t thought to investigate. He suggested that you might be the perfect person to ask, in fact.”

Jenny Calendar suddenly felt ill at ease, and watched Giles carefully.

“Who was your visitor,” she asked first, thinking it might give her the clue of how dangerous this discussion could become.

“It was Spike. Er, William the Bloody.”

“Spike came to see you last night?” Buffy interrupted as she and Willow walked through the library door.

“Yes, he came to talk.” Giles stopped his concentrated polishing and became introspective. “Actually, I’m not entirely sure what the purpose of his visit was, but we covered a number of things. Mainly that he had destroyed the Anointed One and is determined to keep Buffy alive. He seemed quite sincere. I did invite him into my flat,” he paused again and suddenly became quite pale. “Which in retrospect might have been rather foolish of me. Perhaps with Angel and his soul I have become rather more tolerant of vampires that offer their help.”

“What was it he thought I could help you with, Rupert?”

“Ah yes, he mentioned the fact that Angel’s soul was a curse given to him by Gypsies…”

“But we already know that, Giles. Angel, soul, equals we trust. New page, please.” Buffy waited, her body feeling springy and suddenly desperate for some kind of physical release.

“He reminded me as I hadn’t given it much thought, and that there are usually ways of breaking a curse. I believe that Angel himself might not try to relieve himself intentionally of his soul, but many others might see the advantages of restoring Angelus to his former glory. Particularly as he is probably the heir to the Master’s line now that he is, ah…”

“In many, tiny, itty bitty pieces,” offered Xander with his hand in the air.

Buffy continued looking at Giles, no change in her stance of consideration.

“Not a prob with the references, Giles. Get to the point, please.”

“Yes, well, Spike suggested to me that Jenny…” he turned to his potential romantic interest. “He thought that as you may have gypsy heritage yourself, you may be able to research the curse.” His smile was warm, but faded almost immediately at the frightened look on her face.

“Jenny, is something wrong?”

“How, how did he know I’m a gypsy? And, and to ask…about Angel?”

“I…” Giles paused to think back on the conversation with the vampire but found nothing strange or overly coincidental about the exchange. “He simply saw things that should probably have been obvious to me.”

“But, I…I’ve never even seen him. So, how does he know about me?”

“I’m not sure,” said Giles as he tipped his head to the side, glasses in his hand. “What is it exactly that is bothering you, Jenny?”

“I…” she closed her eyes a moment, knowing that she was about to break the code of her Clan but seeing the wisdom of their knowing about the curse.”

“Perhaps Spike is up to something, trying to mislead us by having us divert our attention to the less important issue of Angel’s soul?”

“No,” she corrected him suddenly. “I don’t think…” she paused, taking a deep breath, before raising haunted eyes to her crowd of listeners. “He’s right. I do know something. I belong to the gypsy clan that cursed Angel. There is a way he can lose it. I was sent here to make sure that that didn’t happen.”

A hush greeted her words before Buffy pushed her way forward and stood directly in front of the technopagan.

“What do you mean? Angel could lose his soul?” Buffy felt something niggling, something a little uncomfortable about the prospect of Angel not being Angel. But she quickly shrugged it off as not too serious. If Spike was the example these days of a soulless demon then she’d…Buffy couldn’t finish the thought, not wanting to lead to questions about the validity of her calling. These two vampires were simply different, probably from being of the same family.

“It’s a possibility.” The teacher’s voice broke through Buffy’s reverie.

“But it’s unlikely, though. Right?”

“It isn’t something that should be easy to achieve, and I don’t think we need to worry about random demons being able to cause it.”

Two hard stares confronted her and the teacher gulped hard, taking a measured step backwards.

“Angelus is not a demon to be underestimated. Tell us what you know.” Giles voice held a core of steel, something hard and bitter underlying the tone.

“If he should have a moment of perfect happiness…” The teacher and librarian shared a look of worried adult understanding as Buffy continued to think about what had been said.

“Well, that could be anything. Cryptic much? It could be…cookie dough ice-cream, or an extra fresh baggie of blood, or…”

“Or getting his hair gel to set just right?” Xander offered, with an answering chuckle from Willow.

Buffy glared at the two.

“I rather think it would be something more…meaningful to him, Buffy.” Giles’s voice cut through to her again and she answered with, “What could be more happy making than cookie dough ice-cream?”

Giles sent a pleading look to the newly outted gypsy as he resorted to polishing his glasses again in discomfort.

“I think Rupert means the happy you get through making love.” The matter-of-fact way the woman delivered the viewpoint was almost comical in its lack of discomposure, and the entire room stood solid in shock.

All eyes suddenly turned to Buffy and she squirmed in humiliation.

“Ewww. Not with the happiness giving, thanks.” Buffy shuddered. Thoughts of Angel helping her shed her clothes before a night of shared loving--a thought that had featured regularly in her dreams before the blond evil menace had invaded them--made her heart suddenly ache with the futility. It was a risk she couldn’t take. And the slayer stomped across the room and flopped down into a chair at the table, idly flicking through a book on vampires and gasping when she found a picture of Angel.

“I was looking up the Order of Aurelius this morning,” Giles explained at her questioning eyes. “I thought after my chat with Spike that I should re-familiarise myself with Angelus and even William the Bloody. I…I’m still not sure I can trust him. But Jenny,” he said as he turned back to the gypsy lady he was interested in getting to know better. “It is important that we know these things. Angelus is not a vampire that we really want to have to confront.”

Buffy read a few paragraphs quietly, her heart rising in her throat as she encountered tales of gore and murder and sweeping evil through continents. When the next paragraph began to describe forms of torture he preferred, she shut the book closed with a loud snap.

“It’s no big, though, right? I mean, if he loses his soul, then we can just curse him again. Right?” Her voice began to rise in panic, not entirely sure from what but knowing instinctively that she didn’t want to have to fight Angel to the death, even if he was evil again.

“It’s not exactly as easy as that,” Miss Calendar told her quietly. “The curse was lost from my family years ago.”

Buffy looked like she had been slapped and succumbed to a terrible sense of foreboding.

“Then, I guess we make sure the happiness having isn’t.”

Giles raised a brow in amusement at her.

“Oh no. You put that eyebrow away, Mister. This conversation topic is now closed. And I’m going to class.” Buffy pivoted on her heel and strode fast from the library, a surprised Xander and Willow following her, tossing a quick, “bye” over their shoulders.

It left the adults alone in the room together.

“Y-you planned on keeping this a secret from us, didn’t you?” He looked at her quickly, lowering his eyes once again as he struggled with his desire to get to know her better and anger that something horrific could have been sprung on them without any forewarning.

“I’m sorry, Rupert. My clan didn’t want it known why I was here.”

“Why now? Why have you been sent to watch him now?”

She bowed her head, feeling bone weary, before taking the seat that Buffy had just vacated.

“He hasn’t really been close to happiness since he originally was cursed. Only since he has desired to help Buffy has he changed and tried to minimise the pain he feels from his guilt. I was sent here to make sure he didn’t veer any further from the purpose of the curse. He is meant to be in pain, Rupert. My people need for him to writhe in agony for what he did.” Her voice had transformed with the hard edge of vengeance and anger and Giles watched her, completely captivated. His eyes betrayed to her how beautiful he found her in the moment, and, suddenly embarrassed, he coughed and cleared his throat before changing the subject.

“I suppose then that Spike has already helped us with more than eliminating the Anointed One.” He picked up the book Buffy had discarded in distaste earlier and flicked through the pages to the entry under William the Bloody. “He has cut his own way through his share of devastation. How can we trust him? He has no soul.”

“What did you feel when he was talking with you?”

Giles pondered the query, and only felt more confused.

“I didn’t feel that he would turn on us. I felt like he genuinely cared about keeping Buffy alive. He made no move towards attacking me.”

Together they sat at the table, surprised yet hopeful in this new ally to their fight against evil.

Computer images of a curse not translated began to make more rapid journeys through her head, the niggling feeling that it might be needed making her skin crawl in anticipated anger and flaming current hatred.

As they continued their quiet contemplation, Jenny began to decipher mentally, the urgency not ignored as something essentially gypsy forced her to acknowledge her own power.

Chapter 5

Spike flicked the goggles across the cavern and gave a massive whoop of success. The roar of the combined jackhammer and crumbling rock came to an abrupt understanding with the silence and watched as Spike did a series of fist pumping the air, joyous cheering and uproarious laughter.

“I did it. And they all said I couldn’t stick to a plan. No bloody faith.”

His grungy looking shirt was the next to be torn from his body and tossed aside. In glowing flesh, he pushed the crumbling rock around the hole in the wall aside and entered the long secret hidden chamber.

“I’ve struck bloody gold.” He laughed, noticing and roughly calculating the worth of the artifacts and jewellery surrounding him. “And this time, I’ll make sure I don’t lose any of it.” His fingers caressed the fine jewels he found—a bit on the gaudy side, but worth bucketloads of cash. He’d be willing to bet Joyce or Rupert would know the best way to cash it in and make sure he got as much as he could from it all.

But his eyes were magnetically drawn to the far skeleton, bedecked in horrible fashion and ostentatious jewellery. One piece stood out above all others; one piece that was immediately recognisable despite his very short association with it. Spike tore it from the bony finger and admired it happily before gingerly slipping it onto his own.

Tears gathered in his eyes and he slumped to the floor, cradling his head in his hands as his body began to shake uncontrollably. The changing message of the ring made him want to give in and weep. Weep for joy, and hope, and puppies and Christmas. No thought occurred to him of his indestructible status; this time he wasn’t out for power to kill and destroy. He gave in to images of Buffy in the sun, making love with Buffy in the light, bright rays bouncing off her skin and onto his but alighting nothing but passion. He could go to the beach with her, have picnics and go shopping, go with her to concerts in the park—provided Sunnydale actually had such posh events.

As his tears stemmed and flowed, stemmed and flowed according to the predominant thought, he recalled words, hateful words that foreshadowed the relationship he’d had with Buffy. His first go round with her he’d thought he had nothing to offer if he couldn’t place her anywhere but in his world, and so began his colossal fucking misrepresentation to her—she belonged in the dark with him. What a pile of complete bollocks. He should have been shot for suggesting such utter crap.

With the ugly ring that he’d coveted and now possessed, he had no reason to make the same mistake. Now he could offer her light, laughter in the sun with her friends and him at her side. So far from his former existence had he travelled it didn’t even occur to him to wonder at how dangerous this made him. His first time around, he’d had thoughts of murder and mayhem on his mind. This time, make love not war. That was his motto for this ring.

With another lingering look at the green stone, Spike bounced to his feet and went back through the hole to the cave, collected two medium sized copy paper boxes and returned. Almost in a daze of delirious possibility, he gathered everything he thought might be worth a pound or two and dumped it in the box. Pretty much everything fit?the only straggler being an extremely fine sword with a bejewelled handle, gilded and shining despite having been hidden for what was probably centuries.

Spike’s oceanic blues settled on the weapon and he nearly warped with wanting. He ignored it while he placed the lids carefully on the boxes, then, carrying the two with one arm he seized the sword almost jealously, giving the cavern a last sweeping look and then left it all for dust.

As strong as he was, Spike soon came to realise he wasn’t a bleeding circus juggler as he teetered back and forth trying to not drop the lot. He heaved a useless sigh of relief once he emerged from the mouth of the cave and took the few steps to his grounded Desoto. Keys inserted, he popped the boot and put his stash inside, bouncing in pure joy for the first time since he and Buffy had shagged.

He was standing under shady trees, but dappled splatters of sunshine sprinkled across his coat arms and he stared at the spots in amazement. Unlike the last time, he stopped and took it in, let his coat fall from his shoulders and watched as the sun played against his alabaster skin.

“Best not let the sun burn,” he told himself ironically, and his smile chased the sun as he headed behind the wheel of the car. Only when his bare back hit the leather of the bench seat did he notice his lack of clothing. Hauling himself back out of the car, Spike rifled through his bag in the back seat and came up with his staple black T-shirt. Pulling it roughly over his head, he frowned at his duster that was still lying discarded in the dirt, and chuckled at how the prospect of living in the light had wiped everything from his mind, including his precious coat.

Suitably attired, he found himself behind the wheel of the Desoto and driving over bumps and sticks until he once again rolled over asphalt. The grin was yet to leave his face as he rolled to a stop outside Giles’s apartment complex.

The cocky walk was evident as he made it to the path, turning back briefly to scan the surroundings and wonder how safe it might be to leave his haul in the boot of his car. For long seconds Spike stood indecisive, wondering if he should take his boxes inside or get Giles out here to find a better place to hide the treasures.

Finally, deciding he’d look a mite conspicuous walking into a fella’s home with a dirty big sword, he was swayed to the side of getting help first. With a definite light spring to his step and a hummed tune from his lips, Spike beat a path in the sunlight to Giles’s door.

Two hard knocks ought to do it, he thought in distraction, watching how the sun played chasies with shadows in the courtyard.

His laugh was infectious and Giles found himself smiling as he opened the door, not immediately clicking the phenomena of Spike standing in the sun.

“Well, you seem remarkably chipper,” he remarked in a matching mood, and Spike smiled even wider. The change in the old man’s reception of him caused some small melting of the hardness coating Spike’s dead heart, something so totally different to the way they were to treat him in the future. He might never have guessed that his few lousy death threats would have had this much impact, and just hoped that it would stay this light and carefree.

It never even occurred to Spike that it wasn’t necessarily his own actions that had caused the prejudice in the Scooby group, but the devastation of Angelus. That the paternal evil vampire completely played the torture game and visited emotional torment on this man in particular, was something that forced the lack of trust to be at the forefront of any Slayer /Vampire relations following.

“Wondered if I could borrow your muscles for a mo? Got some boxes that I was hopin’ you might look after for me till I can find a safer place.”

Giles nodded and, propping his door open, followed Spike to his beaten black classic.

“Like old cars, then, do you?” he asked conversationally, wondering what the vampire would think of his Citroen.

“Not in general. Got a bit of a soft spot for this beauty,” Spike answered while patting the less than shiny coat of paint. Giles released a disappointed sigh and watched as Spike popped the boot and began to lift out the boxes.

As one box was passed to him, Giles noticed the bright sun glaring on the sidewalk and looked at Spike in sudden nervousness. He took a step back, stumbling slightly from the heaviness of the load in his arms.

“Y-y-you, you’re in the sunlight.”

Spike stopped what he was doing and stayed still. No sudden moves as he could smell the slight tang of fear in the gentle breeze.

“I’ll tell you all about it, Rupert. Don’t go thinkin’ anything nasty and sinister. Look, let’s just get this stuff inside and I’ll reveal all. Alright?”

The older human nodded and Spike sighed that he wasn’t going to be challenged or ‘outed’ while still standing in the street. Before grabbing the second box, he slid the sword under his coat, away from prying eyes, and closed up the car. Following closely behind Giles, he heaved a sigh of relief once the Watcher’s door was closed and the newly liberating sunshine was off his back. The sensation of warmth was too new for him to want to take it for granted just yet.

Without asking, Giles removed the lid of his own box and gasped in shock.

“What is all this?” he demanded as his hands delved into the pile of gold and sparkling stones.

“There was this legend, see. A gem that could make vampires impervious to harm. Stakes, sunlight, crosses can’t hurt or kill them.”

Giles watched the vampire with horrified understanding. “And you have found the Gem of Amara? I thought it was just a legend.”

Spike took a while to think before finally nodding his head in concession. He shouldn’t be surprised that the Watcher knew about the gem.

“Look Rupes, before you start gettin’ all paranoid, I don’t plan to kill you. Look, lets go out, to the beach maybe, get some lunch and have us a chat.”

“You don’t expect me to watch you pick off a sunbather, do you?” Giles had retreated tactfully behind his dining table, and Spike clenched his jaw at how hard it was to earn trust. For the first time he could ever remember, he cursed his condition as a vampire.

“Actually, I’ve got a bit of a hankerin’ for some fish and chips, but that’s prolly not likely in good ole Sunny D.”

Giles offered his first smile of camaraderie since Spike’s revelation and decided to move back to stand in front of the vampire.

“These things you have here are quite valuable. What were you planning to do with them, can I ask?”

“Pretty sure you just did, mate!” Spike grinned, feeling the groove of his good humour rebuilding at the thought of his plan. “Want to sell it if I can, get the best price and what not. Thought it might be a good idea to set up a trust fund for Buffy, just incase she should ever need it.”

Spike couldn’t help but become lost in thoughts of the blond he loved and so for the most part missed the look of surprised admiration on the Watcher’s face.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Spike could feel himself throb with the suggestion and tried to calm himself down.

“I’m lookin’ out for her best interests.” His reply was stubborn.

“You know she thinks she is in love with Angel, don’t you?” Giles couldn’t help pointing out the obvious, even if his judgement of this paradox was beginning to put Spike ahead of Angel.

“That poof is no good for her. He’ll hurt her in every way.”

Giles blanched at the cool, confident claims Spike offered him.

“He has a soul,” Giles argued, but got no further as Spike began to huff and pace in a frenetic manner around his living room.

“Do you know how bloody sick to the back teeth I am of hearing about the Great One’s almighty soul? It’s worthless. What does it even mean? He’s on the side of good? Well, so am I. I’ll do anything for her, and even you lot, as bloody irritating and useless as you all can be. I won’t leave her, I won’t hurt her, and I don’t have a soul to lose. And let me tell you, Watcher, an Angel without soul is far from a pretty sight.”

Given the evidence and the passion with which the blond vampire spoke, Giles felt more than compelled to agree with him. He accepted the argument, and silently he rooted for Spike. He had an odd feeling that there was something rather special about this one. He claimed he had no soul, didn’t want a soul, but there was something already there. Something that brought him so far into the light, almost unknowingly onto the road to redemption, that it was too late for him to turn back. And Giles was hit with the genuine feeling that Spike seemed to put everything behind him and moved on.

He looked hard at the contents of the box again and could see that if the other contained even half the treasures of the first, then Spike was in for possessing a rather large sum of money. That he wanted to put it into supporting Buffy was almost beyond Giles’s comprehension, but he would fully support it.

“I think it might be safer if we took these over to Joyce’s gallery. I am sure she would have a safe and could store these for you until we can work out the best way of selling them. Perhaps an auction would be a way to go. Keeps it all rather anonymous.”

Spike watched Giles in disbelief. His whole argument was shot down with silence. He’d mounted this worthy wall of rage to defend his actions and he was stopped in his shoes with tacit acceptance. His relief made him shake.

“Sounds like a ruddy marvellous idea. Never actually been to Mum’s gallery.” He perked up considerably at the idea of seeing Buffy’s mum and wondered if she stocked hot chocolate in her office. Probably not, he concluded sadly.

“And the gem?”

Spike’s attention returned to Giles with a thump, and he watched carefully for any further signs of fear.

“Can we go for that walk, have some grub and talk about it then? Jus’ let me enjoy some sun for the first time in over a century?”

Giles softened enough to offer a warm smile.

“Of course. And what were you planning to do with the sword you’ve got hidden beneath your coat?”

Spike beamed as he pulled it out, wielding it in expert arcs to the side of Giles, hoping the Watcher could see the beauty of the thing.

“See the pretty stones in the handle? Thought Buffy might like it. You know, as a birthday present.”

Giles nodded again in approval, and gave in to his curiosity. “It is rather stunning. I’m sure she will very much approve of it.”

“Don’ want her to approve of it, chum. Want her to feel it. Feel the way it talks and whispers its secrets. Reckon it’d be perfect for a Slayer.” Spike seemed to become mesmerised by the glistening blade as he cut circles in the air.

Giles picked up his box, lid now intact and indicated that Spike should do the same.

“Perfect time to drop these off to Mrs. Summers before the gallery closes, and then we can see about finding some chips at least. Not sure about fish, here. But the beach sounds like the perfect place for a chat.”

The two men carried their load back to the car, Giles locking the door after Spike’s later exit, stashing the sword for the meantime under the sofa.

Downtown traffic was quick and they reached the gallery after a comfortable silence in the car. Giles kept quiet, wanting desperately to give in to his inner researcher and ask a multitude of questions about the gem, about how Spike felt in the sun, about what he planned to do with it. But he could accept that the vampire wanted to wait before saying anything. Wanted to sort out the housing of his loot first.

A quick meeting with Buffy’s mother reminded Spike that he hadn’t really had much to do with her yet, and he found himself surprised. Seeing her had been difficult, though. He found himself wanting to bury his head in her shoulder and hold her hard, hang onto her life and never let it seep away from her. Ask her advice on how to help Buffy the best.

But this wasn’t his Joyce. Not yet anyway. Right now, she was someone he needed to relearn, and he had every intention of becoming her new best friend. When she died again, he wanted to be there to offer comfort to the grieving, and strength where needed. And he wanted to have someone care enough about him to help soothe his pain.

With a tear hidden deep in his eye, they had left the goods under lock and big steely vault before turning the big car to the surf.

While Spike sat at a bench, face tipped upward to soak in the rays, Giles had been dispatched to locate what could pass for fish and chips. Spike looked at the man horrified when he returned and passed him a bag of fries and a fillet of fish, all embossed with the special golden arches logo.

“What the bloody hell is this? A happy meal?”

“It was all I could find,” Giles argued, petulance forming a pout. “It isn’t like you actually need to eat food, anyway.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Spike watched the bag as if he was expecting it to stand up and throw itself in the rubbish all on its own. When it didn’t move, he hesitantly pulled out the little red cardboard carton holding his fries and began to munch.

“So, the gem?” Giles found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the spectacle. He never knew that vampires could eat human food, knowing that Angel never did. Another thing to make Spike an anomaly to his breed. And admittedly, Giles was fascinated with this subject and eager to work him out.

“Yeah, ‘bout that. Look, I know it’s difficult for you lot to trust me, so how ‘bout I give you the ring when we get back and you can just hand it over if there are times it would be handy for me to be out in the day?”

Giles was yet again left speechless.

“You have found a way to make yourself resistant to becoming destroyed, and you want to give it up?”

Giles could tell immediately by the way the vampire hung his head that his original assumption was incorrect.

“Not a matter of want. It’s all about need. I need you lot to trust me. I need Buffy to trust me.” He raised pleading eyes to Giles and watched as the human considered.

Giles was completely arrested by the honesty, and the yearning sadness that he was sure was genuine in the vampire’s face. And decided to risk. Spike had had more than ample opportunity to attack them all, if that had been his evil plan. He’d been alone in his home, with Buffy, and with Angel, and not one small leaning toward violence had occurred.

“I don’t think it would be safe for me to hang on to it in my home.” Giles could see the disappointment immediately shape the slope of Spike’s shoulders.

“It’s not safe for me to wear either. Just take some smarty pants to work the mojo out and attack me, slip the big shiny off my finger and I’m dust. Would be right dangerous for some other vamp to get his hands on.”

“You say that like you’ve already experienced it.” Giles jumped as Spike barked out a humourless laugh.

“You don’t know how right you are, Rupes.”

Confusion settled on the Watcher’s brow, but he refused to become ruffled by the odd implication, and instead settled on thinking up a solution.

“Wh-what about the possibility of, er, concealing it within your person?”

Spike stared, emotion passing like shimmering lakes over his face. His eyes gleamed as he allowed hope to taint his voice.

“You mean, like, sew it in under my skin?”

“Er, something along those lines, yes.”

Spike looked thoughtful.

“Won’t poke out and spoil the outline of my abs or anythin’, will it?”

Giles seemed alarmed at the thought of anything to do with Spike’s abdominals.

“I’m rather sure that between Willow and myself we can sort something out.”

“Yeah, okay then. Worth a try, innit?”

And they were back to smiling again, watching the sun bounce giddily off the water, watching the crowd soak up and take it for granted, watched each other in a friendly comfort that Spike had craved but never received.

“Got any suggestions of where I can bunk down for the night? I’ve left the factory, an’ I told Peaches I wouldn’t be back so he’d take Dru. Minions’ll be all arse backwards with no one to tell ‘em what to do so I can go back and stake ‘em with the Slayer later if you want. Or I could try and get ‘em to convert to good ol’ pigs claret.”

Giles looked delighted at the prospect. “Do you think they might?”

“Dunno. If I was still there, maybe. But if I’m not there to make sure they’re doin’ the right thing, then they prolly won’t.”

“Oh,” Giles said in disappointment. “It’s probably best to destroy them, then.” He thought for a moment, before taking a breath to strengthen his resolve and turned to Spike, who was again watching the sea. “I know this could potentially be the most stupid thing I have ever done, but you are welcome to stay at my place until you find somewhere more to your suiting.”

He was non-plussed at that look of awe again, wondering how it was that he could affect the emotions of a notoriously evil vampire so effortlessly. All he had done was offer a place to sleep in complete disregard for the possible health of his neck.

“Do you plan to chain me up to your bathtub?” Spike asked, tongue in cheek.

“Of course not,” Giles spluttered, embarrassed that the thought had indeed crossed his mind. “I think the sofa would be perfectly comfortable for a few nights.”

“Thanks, mate. That’s right generous of you.” Spike looked hastily away as the tears shimmered over the clear deep sky blue of his eyes.

Giles cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable about the display of gratitude and wandered back into the subject of Spike’s recent jewellery haul.

“Mrs. Summers suggested the option of an auction to see all the treasures? How do you feel about that idea?”

“I think it’s a bloody brilliant idea. An excellent start. Do you think that lot would be worth much?”

Giles couldn’t stop himself from the continual surprise he felt in the company of this strange vampire.

“Unless the stones are fake, which I doubt, I think the lot would be worth a very attractive sum of money. The jewels alone are priceless, but as collector’s pieces, I think the sum you’ll end up with could be quite astronomical.”

“And the commission? If I let Joyce take it on, it should get her a pretty penny, too?”

Giles again was stunned at the depth of care Spike was displaying in regards to Buffy and her mother.

“I should think so.”

They passed the following hours discussing everything from sport, to the Scoobies. Spike’s lack of soul wasn’t mentioned again, and so the tense up didn’t reoccur. When the sun began to set over the water, the two Englishmen decided it was time to finally make tracks and returned to the car, and back to town.

A suggested stopover at the factory ensured that Dru had been taken by Angel—the minions at a loose end. Spike was able to retrieve the rest of his belongings and left the building behind him. No lingering sense of pain or even nostalgia. In more ways than one, this place was his past; Dru was his past.

He felt the positive effects of all he had done so far in his second chance. He’d managed to get Rupert on side, and as manipulative as he may be in the way he was going about things, he didn’t mean it to not be heartfelt, for his heart pounded at every interaction he had with these people. And with Buffy. He’d do anything, be anything, and that was his wish. Here he was and he was buggered if he’d let it all go to hell now.

Further travelling and he could park on the roadside, alighting and following Giles into his temporary home. By the time they reached the door Spike was feeling pretty tired, what with having been awake and in the sun all day. He was right knackered and preparing to gulp down his heated pig swill when a pounding on the door heralded the arrival of Buffy and he was pulled back out the door rather forcefully.

Standing with fire blistering her every surface, she was a vision. Heat radiated off her and Spike could see himself going up in flames if he dared to touch. His eyes soaked in her image, not knowing how long it would be before he could convince her that she belonged in his arms. Her presence only added to his happiness, until she uttered the one request he’d rather pass on for another day. A day abut a hundred years in the future.

“Tell me about Angelus,” she demanded with all the finesse of a bullfrog, and Spike’s tired mind could do little but mutter bitter obscenities.

“What do you want to know, pet?” he asked, and knew that nothing about this could possibly end well.

Chapter 6

“I’m sure Rupert’s told you all about him, pet. Why do you need me to blow the cover on all the family secrets?”

Buffy stood in the dark outside Giles’s door and watched him. Spike. The peroxided vamp that she had been told would be relentless until he managed to tear out her throat. Spike. Whose first contact with her was to stab her with his tongue. His hot, wet, spine-tingling kiss-giving tongue.

There was an energy that surrounded this vamp like no other she’d ever come across. It was the strangest thing. Every night Buffy would go out to slay—to do her duty as the only one in all the world—beating up and dusting vampires. Growly, sharp-toothed vampires who more often than not, stupidly impaled themselves on her stake during their headlong rush to pierce her throat with their fangs.

They seemed so different, like vicious animals, no longer people with personalities and hope, just blood-thirsty monsters that would rather kill you than befriend?or begirlfriend?you. The Spike she had met in the alleyway behind the Bronze was all full of swagger and overconfident expectation. The vamp that she had finally met up with in the halls of her school was completely different. This one didn’t shake with his desire for her blood, with the desire to see it flow out of her and stubbing out her life.

Okay, thought Buffy. No more with the uber weird split-personality vamp. I want answers. And so she had sought them. But after dragging Spike out of Giles’s front door, still clutching his cooling mug of blood and sans duster, her eyes focused lustily on his bare forearms and the curve of his neck above the black neckline of his T-shirt. And faced with such a sight, what hormonal teenage girl wouldn’t completely lose track of where she was and completely screw up the topic of the day?

Angelus! Really, who wanted to know about him when there was a nice, packed form of salty goodness for the disrobing standing right in front of her? But now Buffy was stuck, she had to go on with the quiz or risk making herself look like the idiot she actually was.

So she tipped her head to the side, hands resting on her hips, and threw it out there. And what exactly did she want to know about Angel anyway? She knew he walked, did the mysterious appear and disappear routine, was helpful on occasion and brooded a lot. Oh, and he kind of kissed her occasionally, too.

“I don’t get it,” she spoke finally in answer to his question, giggling when his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Get what, pet?” Spike watched her, feeling amazing relief when she relaxed her ‘I mean business’ stance and smiled.

“I mean you. And Angel. And this happiness curse thing. You being nice to me. Are you sure you don’t have a soul?”

“Hell no,” was Spike’s fiery retort. He snorted loudly just at the thought of allowing himself to be tamed like the poofter, until his recent feelings and protective behaviours came to his mind, and he suddenly fell silent.

“What does having a soul mean, anyway? Fair enough, maybe vampires can’t choose to do good straight off the bat. Maybe they need a time out to consider their existence and a nice shiny girl to come along and tempt them onto other paths,” he mused to himself aloud. Remembering the chance the chip gave him to infiltrate Buffy’s little group, getting to know humans on an intimate level, become their friends. Spike knew that without the chip, he probably would never have had the chance to slow his vendetta against Buffy, not stopping till either or both of them were destroyed.

“Am I the nice, shiny girl?” Buffy asked breathlessly, shooting thoughts and reactions straight to his crotch hidden by denim.

He couldn’t help but let his gaze stick on her, watch the play of interest yet fear temper the storm of green in her eyes. His gut began to clench, his skin tightened and his hand raised to cup her cheek. Almost in a dream, he placed his other hand behind her head and pulled her to within a whisper of his mouth. His cool breath fanned her lips and he almost lost it at her tiny little mewl-like pleas. His body rumbled in gravelly desire as he gently rubbed his bottom lip against hers, allowing them to clash gently as he spoke.

“Baby, you are so much more than that.” And then he surrendered to the drug of her mouth; the narcotic that he wanted to stay addicted to for life. He supped on her sweetness and nearly cried at how innocent and giving she was. So not like his Buffy that it both made him rejoice yet made his heart hurt. Her questing tongue knocked against his and he couldn’t help but moan his delight that she was looking for him, wanting to join with him in such an intimate, meaningful way.

As his lips swept against hers he felt the increasing thump of her heart, could feel the heat of her skin as it came closer and closer to him. Little bursts of liquid fire charged through his body and he became warm, relaxed and so very eager to taste every inch of her bared skin. To let his tongue slide over the smooth texture of her thighs. She was still so young but the yearning was getting out of control, he had no idea how he could slow the pace of their knowing one another.

He felt the subtle jerking of her oxygen deprived body and almost decided to ignore it, wanting to kiss her forever, or at least until the red of tomorrow’s sunset shadowed their moment. But he released her, taking her back before she could suck in any air for one final hard kiss. As she shuddered with the effort of replenishing her lungs, he buried his face in her neck, allowing her beautiful soft hair to give him cover. He pressed his hot mouth to her throat, mumbling and moaning against her skin.

“I need you so bad, baby.” And his body shook with the effort of control, sagging back against the wall of Giles’s flat when her little hand sought contact with his skin under the tight tee he was wearing, his knees almost failing to keep him upright. It was all going so fast, feeling so out of control that he hauled her body against his, took her hand and thrust it against his livid jean-covered cock.

“Buffy, if we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”

He removed the pressure of his hand holding her against him, yet hers remained and instead moulded to his shape.

Her eyes were wide with awe and fascination as she raised them to look at him. The roaring of her blood was deafening him as it raced in lustful excitement around her body and he groaned when her tiny hand squeezed him lightly.

“B-Before we stop,” she husked at him with the sexiest voice he had ever heard pass her lips. “ Can I…” she lowered her eyes, too shy to finish her desire.

“Can you what, pet?” prompted Spike, almost crippled with hope.

“Can I touch you? I want to feel you in my hand.” Her lips were curved in a forceful, determined smile as she suggested to him what it would mean to be unrestrained in her flesh.

Some mammoth lump of burning heat settled in his gut and he nearly howled like an animal. The amber of his eyes was her answer and she began to pop the studs of his jeans, her passion-drugged eyes? partially covered by lust heavy lids?never leaving his. They flickered between blue and yellow as her hand delved beneath the fabric and finally, she made contact. He could feel the complete vacuum of air, his skin splintering in sensation as her smooth warm hand slid slowly, steadily over his cool cock.

He couldn’t help but look down, and her attention followed as he saw his cock in her tanned hand, the little fingers clenched around his pretty reasonable girth. His silken length elongated as she slowly rubbed her palm back and forth and he could already feel the rush through his prick, just from the visual enticement of her.

Her hand suddenly took up a rhythm, becoming faster and it was beyond his control. With a little shout? too late for warning? his cum spurted from the slit of his cock and fountained over the cup of her hand.

“Oh,” she said innocently, eyes as wide as any newly initiated woman to the arts of sex could be.

“I’m sorry, love. You took me a bit by surprise.” He actually felt a bit embarrassed with his deflating member resting in her milky cum-coated palms.

The expression in her eyes made him feel suddenly breathless, no mean feat for someone lacking the need to breathe, and suddenly she was on her knees, her tongue tentatively tasting the cream on the tip of his length.

“Oh God, Buffy.”

Before he knew what she was doing he was encased in her mouth, widening and lengthening to an almost crippling hardness. His guts clenched, his bum cheeks contracted and his balls drew up in tension. A few slides up and down and a demon-loving hard suck and he visited bliss again, her young inexperienced mouth overflowing with his milk as she struggled to swallow. As his cum glided down her throat, Spike grabbed her under the arms and hauled her to standing, his mouth latching onto the dribbles with a possessive release of control. As his tongue made it to the end of her exposed flesh, he bayed in frustration, the animal in him wanting to tear the top she wore clean down the middle and claim her nipples in hard punishing sucks.

But he stopped.

Pulling away and struggling hard for some kind of composure, he gasped and heaved like a marathon runner.

“Holy fuck, woman. Are you trying to kill me?” he asked when he finally remembered how to speak words.

She giggled, watching him with a deep satisfied happiness he couldn’t ever remember his Buffy displaying.

“You’re already dead,” she deadpanned and he groaned again.

“You make me that hot again, pet and I’m sure I’ll dust.”

Her eyes took on a gleam of seductive woman, years beyond the true age of the Slayer.

“We just might have to experiment to see how hot you can get before you start to singe.” And her mouth attacked his again.

It wasn’t until he felt the distinct cold and sticky patch of fabric at his shoulders that he realised Buffy had inadvertently just wiped the cum on her hands all over his shirt.

He pulled away and watched the vacancy in her eyes, completely passion induced, and smiled.

“How ‘bout we go on inside and wash up? Then p’raps go for a stroll and I can tell you all you want to know about Angelus.”

She still appeared dazed as her eyes followed his movements, tucking his cock back into his jeans, refastening the opening and pulling his shirt over his head. He puffed up with pride and flexed his pectorals as her eyes became glued to his skin.

“Love? Ready to head in?”

Buffy responded with a confused nod and followed him through the door.

“Ah, there you are. Spike, Buffy, whatever happened?” asked Giles while pointing to Buffy’s sticky outstretched hands and Spike’s bare chest.

“Oh, demon. Nasty bugger sprooked all over my best tee. Slayer got a bit on her hands. Thought we’d go patrol after we clean up a bit and have us a little chat. Slayer wants to know a few details about Angelus.”

“Buffy?” Giles asked in mounting concern. “W-we’ve discussed Angelus before. Why do you want to know more?”

Buffy’s eyes swung to look at the worry etched on her Watcher’s brow, and then back to her hands. She held them cupped in front of her and she could see patches of the milky substance that had come from inside Spike. She felt a grin of guilty achievement form and subconsciously licked her lips.

“Just covering all the bases. Books don’t tell everything, Giles.” And she left for the bathroom, hoping to see a little more of Spike’s sculpted flesh, but this time way in the up close and personal kind of way. Outside had been way too dark and she was still a little blurred from the lustiness that had taken her over.

He was there, cleaning up his messy cock with a damp cloth while she leaned against the closed bathroom door and soaking up his lecherous glances. Buffy felt no lingering bouts of confusion, just a hot burning confidence to discover herself and Spike with the prolonged use of tongues, lips and hands. Preferably in a nice comfy bed.

“Need any help?” left his cock springing back to attention at her husky suggestiveness, and he hissed at her.

“Stop it, Buffy, or I’m gonna lose it and fuck you against your Watcher’s bathroom door. And that is not where a little girl like you should discover the joys of love for the first time.”

Buffy flushed a glowing red but couldn’t tear her shimmering gaze away from him. Her focus was his face; all clean lines and devoted soft pink lips beckoning promises of love. Something stroked her heart, something soft and subtle, and her breath hitched.

“A moment of true happiness?” escaped her lips on a wave of wanting, dissipating around the two, and Spike sucked in his first berating response. Not wanting his knowledge of Angelus to intrude on this swift expectation of fulfillment.

Finally tucking his cleaned member away, he stepped forward and allowed his finger to softly trace her lower lip, the deepest ocean of his shining eyes softening in true genuine love.

“With us, Buffy, I could always be perfect happiness.”

His words made time with the perfect rhythm of her heart, and he couldn’t believe where he now stood. In the bathroom he’d been chained up in, with the woman he was to fall in love with years from now.

He should be so different. He should have disappeared into the past, grabbed Dru and hightailed it out of the hellmouth while remaining chipless and never to return. But such was her power that that option had never even occurred to him. In his time Buffy might have kicked him to the wolves, but here he could prevent her decline, prevent the walls cementing around her heart by keeping her away from Angel and his unreliable soul.

“But you’re soulless,” she whispered, barely loud enough for even him to hear her. This time he didn’t take it as an insult, rather just an uninformed assumption he would be sure to break.

“Sometimes love is beyond a soul.” And he kissed her eyelids closed, his fingers skimming the flesh of her neck and he finally ended by nibbling at her bottom lip.

“We should go get some air.” His voice was like a slap after being so thoroughly immersed in such deep, drowning sensation. Buffy grabbed his hand, an attempt to ground herself to the earth and couldn’t stop herself for spilling little mutterings of truth.

“I could drown in you,” she told him and it stopped him in his tracks. The sudden banked fire in his eyes scorched her right through as he leaned back in, sucking hard on her neck as he crushed her body against his own. There was moisture on the edge of his lashes when at last he pulled away from her and he kissed her thoroughly.

“Thank you.”

And he pulled her hand, tugging her away from the door so he could open it.

“You wash your hands while I go find a top,” he strongly suggested, and Buffy found herself alone, staring into a mirror that revealed nothing of the wanton behaviour she had indulged in tonight.

She could still feel his weight in her hands, feel the silkiness as the thin, pale skin stretched and tautened over the thickening of his penis. And her effect on him.

It was all so different, so hot and out of control. So different to her times with Angel. Nothing ever got out of control with him. Angel wouldn’t allow it. All they had done was kiss, despite Buffy hungering to know more, to feel more. After dying at the fangs of the Master, she had come to realise that her life was destined to be short. Why die completely innocent of things that could give her some small amount of happiness?

Again, Spike with the surprising her. Making her head spin out of control with the possibilities, with the contradictions. And this walk he wanted to go on? Crap, she’d had his penis in her mouth and he wanted to go and talk about Angelus? What was up with his priorities?

Which brought back a rather ewww, yet, yumm thought to her. She had Spike in her mouth. A boy’s penis. No, a man’s penis. NO! A vampires penis. A vampire who talked of affection and promised more than just a quick bang with the Slayer. She was way passed wondering about taking a risk with Spike. A little of the sucking of his…ah…thing might have made that a bit of a given. And she felt kind of all right with that. Pretty good with it, actually.

But what about Angel? Buffy had thought she was falling in love with Angel, but maybe she had just been really taken in with the suave mysteriousness of his appearance now and then. She felt pretty sure that the soulful vampire thought he was in love with her, and that left Buffy with a world of guilt.

Oh boy, was it her fault she found the blond, nicely compact vampire perfect for her? He fit her in so many ways, and not just in her mouth. Buffy couldn’t help but burst into a bout of girly giggles and tried to picture Willow’s face if she decided to relay this little episode. Her first foray into grown-up activities.

Buffy could feel the tingle in the back of her neck indicating that Spike must be waiting for her just outside the door and she quickly used the soap to rid him from her hands, dried them and bounced through the door to meet up with him again for the walk.

“Could you perhaps describe the demon that attacked you before you go, Buffy?”

“Ah,” Buffy stood like a deer caught in high beam, and wavered between blurting out anything and making a break for the door.

“One of those grey, non-descript looking things. No harm from it, Rupes, no worries. Now, let’s go, Slayer. Sunrise waits for no vamp.”

He disappeared from before her with a sharp swish of his coat around his boots and was off out the door.

“Bye, Giles,” Buffy tossed over her shoulder as she went running after him.

They walked side-by-side, quiet and accepting as their footsteps clacked on the pavement.

“So, Angelus? Poncey bugger, if ever there was one.” Spike couldn’t have kept the irritation out of his voice if he tried. Just the thought of the brooding brow had him hopping with energy that he was busting to again take out on the git’s jaw.

“What was he like?” Buffy’s voice had regained the strength that passion had robbed from it earlier, and Spike winced, having half convinced himself that his mouth and cock had done the hard yards in altering her focus of conversation for the night.

“Self-righteous, cruel, depraved, adulterous…”

“Adulterous,” she interrupted on a tide of disbelief. “He’s a demon. I hardly expect them to be monogamous.

Spike couldn’t help but look at her with a twist of distaste to the corner of his lip.

“More of your prejudiced learning showing there, pet. I was bloody faithful to Dru for roughly a hundred and twenty odd years.” Spike allowed memories to filter through his mind and he recalled numerous occasions when it was Angelus and himself being cuckolded by their women. Dru and Darla getting it on with the bloody Immortal at the same time. Maybe he was the rare fish in the demon equation?

“Scrap that. Might be just me that sees the value in treasuring your lady.” He kicked unsuspecting tufts of grass in irritation, again picturing the face of his incredibly stupid, ignorant, selfish pig of a sire.

Tinkling laughter in the distance arrested their attention, and as Spike recognised it as Dru’s he set loping off toward it.

“Bloody hell. Stupid poof is meant to be looking after her now.”

But they both came to an abrupt halt at the edge of a park and watched.

Buffy stood next to a silent Spike, noticing his indulgent smile toward the dark-haired nutter that Angel was dutifully pushing on the swings. Both dark vampires appeared to be enjoying themselves; happily trading snippets of odd conversation that Angel apparently had no understanding of. It made Spike laugh.

“Bout time you brushed up on Dru speak, Peaches.”

Flinty dark eyes settled on the slighter built blond vampire, and he jerked his head in a show of dominate temper.

“What are you doing here, Spike? I took her. Like you demanded.”

His eyes turned in surprise to Buffy.

“Buffy? What are you doing with him? You can’t trust him, you know.”

“Sure I can,” she answered carelessly as she stepped forward and began to walk over and meet the playful two.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, pet.”

Spike hardly got the words out before Buffy hit the ground from the force of enraged jilted vampire, long hair on both sides getting tangled in the dirt. Dru gained the upper hand and held Buffy down, punching her once and then holding deadly talons at her throat. The vampiress had a loose grip, however, energy fast deserting her. Adrenaline had given her a speed and viciousness that had been lacking in her since the attack in Prague.

“Get off her, Dru.” Spike’s voice was loud in the sudden silence, but he could hear the pumping fear of Buffy’s blood and it made him nauseous. He should have suspected something like this to happen. He’d given Dru no explanation for his defection, though he was afraid she had seen his reason. And now he had the proof, and the thought of the light of his life being drained in an ugly altercation in the park made him shudder in fear.

Spike advanced on the two figures, Buffy deathly still as she felt compelled to stare into the other’s eyes, but the sound of Spike’s voice seemed to shatter something and she blinked, coming back to herself and shoving at the brunette holding her flat on her back on the ground.

“Get off me, you crazy bitch,” Buffy shouted as she gave Spike’s better be ex a good solid shove.

Spike caught her weakened frame, then carelessly thrust her away from him, anger and violence etched in the glare of his eye and the twist of his lip. For a moment Buffy thought him caught in the female vamp’s eyes, just like she had been, but she could also see the struggle going on by the way his hands flexed into fists. With one almighty growl, he hauled back and punched Drusilla in the mouth, sending her flying across the park and into the arms of the brooding vampire. She cowered in her sire’s arms, all fight depleted, leaving her limp and ill.

“What the bleeding fuck was that, Dru?” Outrage gave Spike volume, and his hands windmilled as he paced in agitation. “You go near her again and I’ll tear your head off your bleeding shoulders. Have you got that?”

Buffy couldn’t tear her eyes from the violent fury of him, the fierce beauty of her protector, her defender, and her eyes narrowed on one who supposedly had been that to her only days before.

“She smells like the sun, my Spike. All pretty and innocent, but not for long. Happiness is a curse, my sweet.” And the crazy vamp girlishly cupped her hand over her mouth and laughed, leaving the onlookers to try and interpret her ravings as best they could.

Once Angel had settled her against his chest, his own stance reeked of leashed fury as he glared at his childe.

“Don’t you ever lift a hand to her again or I’ll...”

“Oh that does it.” Buffy stood mad, legs apart and hands on hips. “You,” she said pointing a finger at Angel, “just did the big zilcho in making sure that the Queen of the Damned there didn’t just slit my throat. And now, you’re threatening Spike because he defended me? Tried to protect me? The freak feature of the week rolls into town and all of a sudden you’re not on the side of good anymore? Well, could have told me.” She tapped her foot, masking feelings of insecurity as she stared down the vampire she thought was the love of her life. It was feeling like quite a wrench that he might not be. Even though she’d opted for experimentation elsewhere, her dreams were difficult to let go of.

Looking over her shoulder she could see Spike in a serious staring contest with the other two vamps, and Buffy decided that her night would be more than complete without whatever dusty occasion might result from the brewing showdown.

“Know what? You take care of Elvira, and Spike and I will go patrolling. Just,” and she raised her pleading eyes to Angel’s, uncertain green clashing with confused brown, “keep her away from me.”

Buffy turned on her heel, seizing Spike’s hand as she went past him and dragged him along behind her.

Once they had gone, Angel turned to Dru and held out his hand to her. “What was that all about, Dru?”

She peered at him with eyes glittering with knowledge.

“My Daddy is all closed in and angry. The little girl is the Key to all mysteries, my Angel. I only needed to smell her, and see her.”

Angel shook his head, wondering why he even asked. They left the park with him none the wiser about Dru’s motives and even less clear about what was going on with him and Buffy. He hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the new way of things, knowing he had probably done the wrong thing in concealing Dru from her.

And now she seemed to be getting chummy with Spike.

Angel clenched his jaw in a sudden understanding. Spike was after something, and had to go through Buffy to get it. Knowing Spike, it was probably revenge at Angel himself for leaving the family behind when he was first cursed.

The puzzles seemed too complex for him to unravel tonight and he led Drusilla to her new home. His home. With a deep, put upon sigh.

Chapter 7

Angel sat listlessly in his armchair, watching Dru flutter around him in graceful yet childish circles as she danced with her ever-present faeries. To the uninitiated he looked pensive, perhaps even to be an indulgent lover of his odd girlfriend’s behaviour. To those who knew him, however, it was unmistakable that Angel was brooding.

The longer he watched, the deeper his brow furrowed. And his respect for Spike grew.

How the hell did the bleached moron put up with this kind of thing day in and day out?

He hadn’t moved for the past hour, completely baffled and unable to reach any kind of conclusive thought about what the hell he was doing.

For the first time since it happened, Angel wondered why he had so easily agreed to take over from Spike in the care of Drusilla. It was without doubt the very first thing Angel had ever done that Spike had requested, having preferred in the past to completely ignore or humiliate the baby of the family.

Yet, his first meeting with him in decades and Angel had jumped to Spike’s bidding, shackling himself down with a totally dependent and weakened vampiress when he was meant to be helping Buffy. Not to mention he was in love with her. Madly, soulfully in love with her. And instead of telling Spike to pull his head out of his ass, Angel meekly went along with the request and was now a hundred percent encumbered with raving, lunatic Drusilla.

He immediately hung his head in guilt.

And that got to the crux of the matter.

Guilt.

That little niggle in the back of his mind that he was responsible for Dru’s madness, for her even being a vampire. And God, if he’d never made her then there would have been no William. For that alone Angel thought he should atone. What an unseemly set of events that had been.

So, yeah. Spike got him when he was full of remorse. Which he probably would not have gotten around to if the youngest pair of the family quartet hadn’t rolled into town.

Angel watched as the strength seemed to suddenly evaporate from the brutal beauty and she collapsed to the floor, giggling girlishly as she tucked her doll under her arm. She chattered on, completely oblivious for the time being that she had such a captive audience. At least, he thought she’d been oblivious until he caught the almost calculated smile she directed at him before once again ducking back to her doll.

“Miss Edith, Daddy is all aflutter. He doesn’t know how to be a daddy anymore. We’ll have to be his special girls and remind him how it’s done.” Her voice was captivating like that of a tiny girl, skittish and excited. It completely mesmerised him and drew him to remember past evil expectations.

Infused with a hidden burst of strength, Dru was back on her feet and swaying to a silent beat, her hips moving from side to side in a sensual, hypnotic figure eight.

“Come to me, Daddy,” she whispered in a harsh voice and he was powerless to do anything but jump to his feet and take her in his arms. They danced, rocking with pelvises locked together, Dru moving from side to side, and up and down. Only when she let her eyes glance to the side did he fall free from her spell, pushing her gently but firmly away.

“I can’t do that with you, Dru. I’m in love with Buffy now.” Angel lowered his head, a little ashamed that it had taken until his dancing partner had looked away before he remembered about Buffy. But Buffy was his life now; she was the source of his redemption. And that brought back the guilt. Helping Dru could hopefully help salve some of it—and count towards his record of redemptive acts. Angel was sure it all counted.

“The little sunburst will save all the boys…but not for long. My Spike thinks he has a plan but it will all come to nothing. He can’t save her.” She slinked over to a suddenly worried Angel. Her mouth was within two inches of his as she smiled evilly and with purpose. “I won’t let him.”

Angel caught her as she seemed to wilt and fall before him.

“I’m feeling a little weak, Daddy. Please make me all better. Spike knows how. You must ask him for help.”

“What is Spike’s plan, Dru?” Angel asked her urgently, rather stunned that the raven-haired beauty had managed to actually relay something intelligible.

“Nuh ah, can’t tell all our secrets,” she answered him, her lids falling heavy as he carried her over to his only bed. “The glass slipper doesn’t fit the golden princess,” she trailed off as her eyelids drooped and she passed into slumber.

Angel stood back, more than a little miffed at the crazy double talk that Dru indulged in and felt a twinge of contrition for blaming her for something he’d caused. Angel felt momentarily disorientated, finding nothing on his quick perusal of the room that could seize his attention away from the sleeping vampire on his bed. Which in itself was a problem, because it left him with nowhere to sleep.

Rubbing his jaw and deciding it was a dilemma best pondered over in the cool breeze of night, he retrieved a set of chains he’d kept well hidden from view under his bed. He minimised the clanking of the metal as much as he possibly could, and latched them around Drusilla’s wrists. The manacles were locked and he twisted the chain into the prepared bolts in the wall at the head of the bed, hidden by his pillows.
When it was done he stepped back, looking at the now restrained childe in his bed and heaved a great sigh of penitence. For the moment there was little he could do, he had to get out for some air and think this situation through.

And he had to see Buffy.

With Dru chained up, weak and asleep, Sunnydale had every reason to breathe easy. With a final look at his latest charge, he grabbed his coat, ran his hands over his head to check that his hair seemed still cemented in his preferred style, and left his apartment.

His feet were determined in their path and he paced a quick journey to Buffy’s house, mindful of the closing in of dawn. It seemed like years since he had last really seen her, barring the awkward confrontation the few hours before. He’d seen how hurt she had been when he had defended Dru, but he was sure that all she needed was an explanation. It can’t have been easy for her to see him with another woman, see him now in a caring role toward his own childe.

No, explanation would be all it took. Buffy loved and trusted him, and he could list all day the ways that he was a lucky vampire, Buffy always at the beginning of it.

Angel ambled on, feeling secure in his mission and purpose, knowing that the heart of Buffy was both a premature reward and his redemptive guide. But he remained on edge, casting the blame for his uncertain position on his white-haired childe and his unpredictable surrender of duty.

Angel couldn’t help but wonder again why he was so quick to take up Spike’s slack. Though Dru had been twittering about creating her perfect knight way back in the day, Angelus and Darla had allowed her free reign to investigate and claim the life of one William the Bloody to free up a little more of their playtime. To them, Spike had meant little more than a family nurse. That he had adapted to that role as well as wreaking havoc in English society, was still a burr that rubbed Angel raw.

His grandchilde was an irritant, but he’d gloried many times over the past century. Earned his stripes in the vampiric community, so to speak. He held power, and despite now being the head of the clan?with the passing of both Darla and the Master himself? Angel indulged in a small amount of healthy fear toward Spike and his achievements. Admittedly, they were few, with Spike’s handicap being the care of his often less-than-lucid dark princess. But what accolades he had received were renowned through demon communities. He’d taken out two Slayers, numerous fights against stronger demons, and escaped harsh and dangerous situations with human mobs.

Like the one that had rendered Drusilla too weak to care for herself.

But it didn’t explain his sudden break off from all that had tethered him to his demon existence. Drusilla was his link, his reason for being, and this rebuttal of Spike’s duties? over a century in establishment? should have been enough to cause Angel to seek vengeance. Seek a renewal of the vow of care.

But just one night in Dru’s company and he was left to wonder how Spike had remained sane for all of these years. He could understand the younger vamps need to seek other links to the world. Just one night and already he was off searching for the recuperative power of being in Buffy’s arms.

His soul made him magnanimous.

He had no knowledge of the situation between the slayer and vampire, but they seemed to be patrolling together and that left Angel to wonder what had been so momentous in the younger vampire’s life that he was now rendered a white hat.

It seemed that within the erratic blink of an eye everything as he knew it was altered. His murderous offspring had come to him, taking over and changing his current existence quite spectacularly. Spike was apparently on his own redemptive path, forging ahead without a soul to guide his way. That in itself forced Angel to be on his guard. To be ever prevalent with the surveillance of whatever Spike’s grand plan was. Whatever it consisted of, Buffy was obviously the focus. This white hat gig had to be a front for something bigger.

And that was what worried him most. Buffy was in the centre of Spike’s game and was completely unsuspecting from what he had witnessed tonight. The Slayer, whose job it was to be wary and suspicious, trusted him.

The thought made Angel pause in his stride and shake his head in almost admiration. If it had been anyone but his Buffy, he would have commended Spike on such a convincing act. Instead, the blonde vamp’s proximity to his girl made Angel’s fangs descend.

When he became aware of the direction his frustrated concern had taken, Angel covered his face and waited until the ridges were finally repressed. He felt so ashamed. Like when he had lost control while kissing Buffy for the first time. He acted like a weak fledgling, easily losing control over his demon impulses. And it wasn’t right. He had a soul, yet he was less in control of himself now than when he was first sired.

It made him angry. Here he was, the reigning…well, not master really…but he had superiority over Spike, yet he was out of the loop. He was the elder of their family, and yet the childe was telling him what to do, installing responsibility under his roof like he had been raised to offer instruction. They had changed roles. And that pissed Angel off.

Buffy’s window appeared like an escape from insanity, and he jumped the tree, watching her slumber peacefully for a moment before he entered into her room. He stood uncertain, wanting desperately to wake her up and talk about all the things that must be so confusing to her, but feeling a little hesitant about getting it all out in the open.

But it was urgent that he warned her about Spike, that he make sure she wasn’t taken in by whatever face the other vampire was wearing through this little scheme. He still couldn’t work out what was going on. It was not like Spike to be this patient about setting up his plan and executing it. The end always was a mile from expectation. So rather than reassure Angel, the patience displayed by Spike set his fangs on edge. It was so out of the expected for Spike that it threw Angel for several long and windy loops.

“I’m not asleep, you know.”

Angel’s head jerked up at the slightly husky voice, his eyes having fallen to the floor as he thought about hidden motivations and agendas.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he asked her hopefully, his voice syrupy with dripping sensuality.

Buffy opened startled eyes. She’d thought…

“Oh, a…hi, Angel. Nope, no waking. No sleep. I’m all awake girl. What can I do for you?”

At Angel’s raised brow and flirty smirk, Buffy felt her womb shrink. Here was her supposed boyfriend and she was feeling like she was cheating. On Spike. The unsouled version of her boyfriend. Except cuter…and with a nicer…hmmm…lot’s of nicer…

“Angel?”

He hadn’t moved, watching her with a confusion born from her miasma of scents. She wavered between happiness, fear, and he was sure there was just a touch of irritation in her voice just now. But one scent was missing, telling in its lack. He couldn’t smell her desire to see him and—without the flavour of sex—he had associated it long with her pleasure to just have him in her sight. It was comfort and belonging.

It kept him grounded and hopeful that one day he may be redeemed. That he may one day regain life.

And so he clung to Buffy.

No way was he going to let Spike take away the best thing that ever happened to him.

“Angel?”

Yep, definitely with irritation that time, but it was enough to knock him out of his funk and he turned to bestow upon her a tentative smile.

“I wanted to explain to you about Dru.” He waded slowly into the murky waters of their relationship and stopped dead at her flippant rejoinder.

“Oh, s’okay,” she told him tiredly as she burrowed back down into her cavern of warmth. “Spike explained to me that you were looking out for her now.”

“Spike told you?” Angel gave her his kicked puppy look, completely unintentional of artifice.

Which just made the manipulation worse.

Thinking of Angel like that made her feel a tinge of fear; things had changed so rapidly. She had been so in love with Angel mere days ago, and the only reason she could think of to explain her attraction to Spike now was the lack of smoochies with Angel. She had to take a chance, prove to herself that this thing with Angel was not as strong as she’d thought, or prove that it was and so get it back on the right track.

Making a decision, Buffy flung back her bedcovers and got to her feet, making a slow, almost seductively predatory walk to Angel before linking her arms behind his neck.

“Yep. No big. You’re her sire and she needs you right now.” Buffy began nibbling on his neck.

Angel wiggled, not wanting to let things get too hot but finding it unbearable to keep having to stop her. He pushed her away gently.

“What reason did Spike give you for wanting me to take over with Dru? Because he didn’t give me any.”

“He said he needed time to get himself together. That he wanted his own life and doesn’t love her anymore.” Buffy watched Angel’s usually inexpressive face and waited for the slight muscle around his eye to move.

Angel gasped in an unmanly fashion.

And Buffy suppressed her shock as all the muscles moved.

“Now I know for sure he’s planning something. Spike does not fall out of love with Dru.”

And that was so not what she had been wanting to hear.

“I think we should stop talking about Spike. Angel, why don’t you stay for awhile?” Buffy grinned and allowed her hand to settle against the silk button-up shirt he wore, letting her fingers roll over the slinky fabric. Just as her palm heated the skin at his waist he grabbed her hand, his hold stilling her movement before pulling her away.

“I think we should talk, Buffy.”

“Fine,” she said, stepping back exasperated. Then a wicked idea caught hold of her and she decided to push her lack of decision in his face. Standing right in front of him and giving no warning, she whipped her pyjama top over her head and walked over to find a replacement. Her bare back an invitation she only half hoped he would accept.

“We could go for a walk. Don’t want to wake up mom.”

Quickly stripping fully and getting dressed again, Buffy spun round and almost giggled at Angel’s sucker-punched expression.

Gotcha, she thought as she led the way out of her bedroom window. If he could resist her now, she was a monkey’s uncle. Damn Xander and his weirdo sayings!

They walked side by side for a while before Angel attempted to speak, and when he finally did his voice lifted in an embarrassing squeak.

“Ah, so…you’re not mad then?” He couldn’t remember what it was he wanted to talk to her about.

“Why would I be mad, silly? It’s just like if you were looking after your sick mom, right?”

Angel shook his head, grasping at the sick mother reference until a picture of raven-haired frailty crossed his mind. Numerous sensations were hitting him at once, a sick childe he now was responsible for? pounding him relentlessly with guilt. Concern for whether Spike planned anything murderous or not, and Buffy?God, naked Buffy. He was still reeling from that sight, and he’d mostly had his eyes closed once he saw what she was doing.

But still, the gentle yet soft slope of her breast was tantalising beyond his dreams and it was all he could do to keep himself restrained. Buffy was not the kind of girl you took in a moment of animal passion. Not for her first time. That would take patience and care, and more love than he knew what to do with.

Buffy was his goddess, his golden light to a better place and he intended to cherish her till she gave up breath.

He was lost in his thoughts until Buffy stopped in front of him, taking a seat on the slightly damp grass, and signalling that they had reached the place she wanted to go. He looked around him, not really wanting to follow her example and sit. So, he wandered around her for a bit and kept an eye out for predators. When he turned around again she had stood back up and was confronting him, hands firmly on hips.

The image made Angel’s eyes glaze over.

“So, when do we get to the ‘making out’ part of this little tryst?” Buffy asked as she slinked up against him, her hesitant but hopeful grin telling stories.

Angel’s eyes bugged.

“Buffy, I thought we should discuss what happened earlier tonight. With Spike and Dru?”

“I know what happened, Angel. I was trying to ignore it.”

Angel startled to hear the hard edge that had entered her voice and took a small step back.

“Buffy, I don’t think you underst…”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she huffed in his face, taking a step forward and bridging his intended gap. “I understand that you took to looking after the batty vampiress you sired, and I understand that you didn’t bother to tell me about it. I understand that you disappeared from helping me with patrol and I understand that you don’t trust whatever Spike is up to. Just for the record, I do. And Giles is letting him stay until he finds somewhere else.”

“Buffy, that is really not a good i…”

“I don’t believe he is the vampire you were warning us about, Angel. He must have changed. I don’t know why, but if he wants to do good and help me out, I sure as hell am not going to tell him to take a hike.”

“Well, he might have cha…”

“But that does not explain the thing that I don’t understand, namely why you have such a problem with the kissage lately?”

After his attempts to butt in with explanations and statements, this last had his lips tightly clamped.

“Er, Buffy, I haven’t been…I mean, I don’t …no, it isn’t that I…”

“I thought you had feelings for me, Angel.”

“I do,” exploded from his mouth and he sighed in relief at her gentle smile. “I love you, Buffy.”

Her smile froze as her eyes widened in frantic alarm.

“Love? You love me? But, that…I don’t want you to,” she spluttered in a moment of panic, flinching at his kicked puppy look. It didn’t alter or become more devastated despite her impulsive outburst and the hurtful denial.

But it was the truth, and something heavy shifted inside and Buffy relaxed in her decision.

“But, why? What’s happened? Is it because Dru is living with me now?”

“She’s living with you? No,” Buffy held her hand up, preventing explanations. “Of course she’s living with you. No…nothing happened exactly,” she stumbled, her heartbeat racing as she couldn’t help but recall the feel of Spike against her, taste him on her tongue. She could feel herself flush and quickly turned heel and strode away, hoping to cool the heat in her face.

Though shocked by her announcement, Angel decided to ignore it, thinking that maybe Buffy was just reacting to the lack of attention. Instead he caught her pace and pulled her in for a hug.

“I’m sorry I have been neglecting you,” he whispered into her hair, completely oblivious to the fact that her body had become as stiff as the bodies buried in the yard.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you…” he spun her in his arms and started kissing her, cool slobbery lips making her feel suddenly, well, nothing. Absolutely, completely nothing. Zilcho on the happy feelings. Buffy allowed her lips to remain, opening her eyes and seeing the intense look of concentration on Angel’s shuttered face as he attempted to woo her back to his side.

And she knew.

Soul or no, she didn’t feel the way about Angel that she thought she probably should have. Spike was a risk; she couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t trying to trick her and later drain away her life.

But whatever the reason, he made her blood fizzle and sing in her veins, made her want to do things that Cleo had been instructing her how to for years but was too grossed out to ever want to try. He made her want to lie and just watch, become lost in the depth of his emotion, the ocean of his eyes, the windows of his soul. She wanted to be naked and glorious with him, kiss him until she fell from the lack of air. She wanted to get to know him.

She wanted him.

Not Angel.

And the revelation was shocking. Though not wholly unexpected after her earlier activities.

She wanted Spike to be her first, not Angel. That ship had sailed.

But Angel hadn’t moved, his lips smooched over hers with a remarkable lack of talent that Buffy hadn’t picked up on until now. Having now the experience of Spike lips. Hmmm, lips of Spike…

Thoughts of the peroxided yumminess gave her lips an animation she hadn’t planned on and she dived into the kiss, making it heated and lusty and passionate. Her hands gripped Angel’s shoulders with a power she wasn’t used to using with loved ones, and she held him against her hard. Her mouth opened, and she allowed her tongue to probe, hopeful for a green light to go the next step.

But that was where Angel reached his limit. Not wanting to get out of control in a graveyard he pushed her away and was raggedly not gasping for breath, because he was a vampire and didn’t need it. So, the only sign of his close encounter with control loss was his distance.

Buffy saw brown hair and took another step back.

“Um, Angel? I really don’t think this will work. I think we need to break up.”

Buffy felt a little sad—of course she did. Angel was her first crush, the guy she thought would be The One. And now she was sure he wasn’t and all it took was a very confusing but liberating moment with a soulless demon that made her shiver just from his looking at her.

Caught up in her thoughts of more of those possibly liberating moments, Buffy almost missed the pout. Almost apparently wasn’t good enough, and she felt icky for having seen it.

“Angel, I really am sorry, but I just don’t think I should get too involved right now.” She tried for her innocent yet flirty look and breathed in relief when he seemed to buy it.

His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he watched the grass with an intensity that made Buffy suspect that it was evil.

“Sure, Buffy. You’re probably right. It would be good to take a break, and this is a good time while I work out the best way to help Dru. Just,” and he surrendered his fixed attention on the grass to search out the matching colour of her eyes. “Be careful of Spike, okay. I don’t know what he is playing at, but he’s dangerous. You shouldn’t forget that. And I’m kind of disturbed that he has full access to Giles’s house. I just hope you all know what you’re doing. He doesn’t have a soul so he’s evil. Demons can’t change just like that.”

And before she could blink or offer alternative argument, he was gone.

And she was a free agent again.

The smile was spread wide and free over her face as she made it back home to settle in for a crazy night of hot dreams.

Buffy couldn’t wait for tomorrow and just quietly wished that all break-ups could be so easy.

Chapter 8

“You’re bloody kidding me, right?”

Giles hid a small grin as he ducked his head and turned away, leaving Willow to look between the two men—correction: man and vampire—licking her lips in cold nervousness.

“It’s not like you have to do anything,” she squeaked. “You could just lie down on the table, and let me do all the…” She turned slightly green, “work?”

Spike could detect the slight shake about her body and his brows shot up in alarm.

“What are you so bleeding fidgety about?” he barked at the redhead, starting to feel pretty sick about the whole thing. “It’s not like you’re having your insides ripped open.”

“Well, neither are you,” she told him with a second’s bravery, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. But then they loosened and dropped to her sides, her heart rate picking up and speeding along with anxiety. “Not exactly,” she qualified with her nervous cutesy Willow smile.

Spike pinned her with his hard glare.

“What exactly would you call being cut open and having your insides set aside to find a good pokey, hidey place for the little ring? A bloody skin graft?”

“Hey,” Willow challenged and Spike admired her for finally retrieving her backbone. “I’m here to help you, you…big…evil…vampire, so enough with the scary eye glaring and the…you know…British swearing.”

Spike tipped his head to the side and contemplated her. He knew she was capable? and truthfully he got a bit of a kick out of riling the witch up? but he still wasn’t eager to repeat the experience of Scoobies slitting his skin and poking and prodding.

“Just mind I’m not a bleeding experiment, alright?” And he abruptly turned his back on them and tugged his tight black t-shirt over his head.

“How do you want me?” he asked in a bored tone, turning swiftly back to visibly catch the answer. He was confronted instead with wide eyes and enlarged pupils, and a redhead gasping for breath.

“No wanting. Nope, definitely no wanting of the me variety. You, Giles? You want him?” Willow, suddenly realising what she had implied by the Watcher’s thunderous countenance, backtracked in a panic, gave a little eep, and raced for the bathroom. Both men smiled in agreeable humour when they heard the distinct click of the door lock.

Within minutes she was back, her face slightly dampish and cooled, and her eyes frosty and businesslike.

“On the table, vampire.”

She couldn’t look at him as he gave a little jump and landed with his back flat to the hard surface.

“Is this enough?” he asked her, enjoying his view of her returning flush. “Or should I take off the daks as well?” He winked at her and she took a giant step backwards.

“Daks?” she whispered in confusion.

“You know,” he leered. “The jeans. Might need an alternative place to shove the Gem…”

He took comfort in her jump.

“N-no.” She took a hesitant step closer to the table and took a quick look at him from under her lashes. “I, er, think I can find a spot.” She swung around to confront Giles with a questionable lack of composure. “And I’m doing this instead of you again, because why?”

Flustered, Giles grabbed his glasses and began the familiar rub. “I thought it would be a… good experience for you. Besides, you are much better at science than I could ever be.”

She gave a short nod showing she understood his logic but not his madness, and instead she started to sweep lengths of her hair behind her ear while swiping at her heating forehead. Her anxiety about the situation was changing her normal colour to red, almost the shade to match her hair.

It was fun to tease her, but the rising hysteria evidenced by her thundering heartbeat was enough to put Spike off the whole idea. Enough to make him want to bury the ring and forget he ever knew of its existence. He didn’t want someone so lacking in confidence cutting into his body, even if it did make him invincible.

“Jus’ because vamps heal faster, and don’t die if you muck up the surgery, doesn’t mean you can use me as a bleeding experiment.”

Spike intercepted the nervous look that passed between the redhead and the Watcher, and felt his jaw clench in spasm. A subtle nod from Willow, and she was turned toward him again, a wicked looking genuine scalpel cosseted in her palm.

“Oi,” Spike stopped her headlong dive into cutting his guts open. “Where exactly are you plannin’ on puttin’ this ring?”

Willow’s look of confusion added to his rising reservations.

“Bleeding hell, girl! Tell me you’ve at least thought of where you were going to put it? Given the thought a little bit of consideration?”

Her short negative shake of the head was priceless. Spike began to chuckle as he leaned back on his elbows.

“Well, this is bloody charming, this is! Were you at least plannin’ to drop it in deep enough so’s it doesn’t muck up the smooth line of my abs?”

“Oh,” she exclaimed as if the concern had only just occurred to her. “S-Sure, Spike. Absolutely. R-real deep!”

Spike began to sit up to slide from the table when her visible exclamation mark hit the air. “I’ve got it! I can cut the small intestine, thread the ring through it, and then tie it back up in a bow.”

The fear that struck Spike as her words lay flat in front of him forced his feet into action and he gingerly slipped off the table and took a few big steps backwards. He spied the ring on the edge of the table and jumped for it, clasping it tightly in his hand and bolted for the bathroom, repeating Willow’s earlier action by shutting the locking mechanism.

Dropping the toilet lid, Spike took a seat. He slipped the ring over his finger and studied it, cringing at its ugliness. By compulsion his eyes drifted to the door and when he could hear the murmuring of voices, he used his enhanced senses to pick out the topic of conversation. Him. No surprises there.

The witch was frantically arguing that she wasn’t qualified for such an undertaking as exploring inside demon guts, and Giles was attempting to sway her with arguments twice as valid.

And Spike sat hiding in the bathroom completely stunned that these humans—ones who had alternated between rejecting him and begrudging his help and knowledge; ones who had been outraged at his developing love and devotion to their Slayer, and then later just cruel in regards to how he felt about them bringing her back—were trusting him. Helping him.

This lot didn’t seem to be as hung up on his lack of soul like their future selves were. He should have known the lack of trust would date all the way back to brood brow. The Watcher had actually taught these kids that demons were stereotypical, ultimately evil and not worthy of the ground they walked upon. And yeah, to the larger extent they would be right.

Good old Angelus had set the rules in concrete. His heinous existence and his crimes while without his soul added up to nothing but cause a discriminating belief to spring from the mind of the Watcher, and thus hammering in the first nail in the coffin that would represent Spike’s unlife. A hollow box; no air, no sunshine, no love. Frankly, no Buffy and no Dawn. How could she think he could live like that?

But it had all changed on the wisp of an ill-judged wish, and so far he wasn’t seeing the pitfalls. Which was highly suspect being that the equation consisted of the Hellmouth, vengeance wishes and he and Buffy.

He wasn’t waiting around for the big Kaboom, however. If everything was going to go arse over tit, then he wanted to make sure he’d gotten as much benefit out of the experience as possible, and try to make life a little better for Buffy in the process.

Which brought him back to the ring and his cowardly hiding in a locked bathroom, perched on the toilet lid while he waited for one of them to grow enough balls to cut him into colourful ribbons.

Fuck that! He wouldn’t put it past Red at all to simply splice his intestines, string the ring through and tie them together with a nice decorative flourish. And despite his handy not needing any of those vitals, it just wouldn’t do. They were still his guts, reasonably ordered in the correct cavities, and he didn’t want the witch to go mucking up anything she didn’t have extensive knowledge of. Vampire physiology being one topic seemingly lost on her.

Bugger it. There was nothing else for it. He’d chomped on whore’s necks, cleaned his teeth with the bones of babies…well, alright, slight exaggerations…but he’d lived in Harris’s basement for a week and that had to mean he could do anything, right? So, Spike gave the ring with the protruding green stone a resentful glare before placing it on his tongue. With a little flick he threw his head back and swallowed it whole, feeling the jagged edge of the jewel as it made his way down the narrow tubes to his stomach.

Spike groaned the entire trip. Only one thing could help this little experience be a tiny bit less repulsive.

Spike thrust open the door and practically ran to the kitchenette, retrieving the first pack of blood he could grab and heated it to the minimum temperature he could tolerate, vamped and allowed the smooth metallic liquid to ooze down his poor punished throat.

When at last he could feel no more internal movement, Spike hefted a relieved sigh and accepted that the ring was probably in his belly. Only then did he realise the possibility that not wearing it might render the magic of the ring ineffective. He could have thought to test the bloody thing before thrusting the bugger down his throat. What if it didn’t work?

There was only one way for him to tell without the risk of burning himself to a crisp and humiliating himself into the bargain. Striding back to the living room, he gingerly picked up the first crucifix he came across and watched as his hand flinched and gathered the strength to throw it away.

Nothing happened. No fizzling of his skin rejecting the Holy artifact. Spike felt weak with joy as emotion gathered to strangle his throat. The Gem worked as it sat comfortably and out of trouble in his belly. It wasn’t under threat, unless someone stabbed him and spilled his guts…or unless Glory continued along and probed it out of him. At least he would be more able to help Buffy with the crimped-haired bitch of a god with the less threat to his unlife and his immortality virtually guaranteed.


He felt an added coolness on his cheek and identified it as the subtle breeze rushing by his tears and he smiled wide at the two humans as they stood watching him hold the cross with building apprehension. But he missed it, being so caught in thrall of the possibilities and the differences this chance had made of his unlife.

Pumped up on gratitude—even though they hadn’t actually done anything—Spike flew at Willow, engulfing her in a hug just as her frightened scream touched her lips. Giles had blanched at the initial swoop, but as Spike swung Willow up high in the air and around like was probably last done to her as a child, he laughed with gentle humour and pleasure. Thoughts on the possible ramifications of lending support and encouragement to a vampire with no soul seemed heavily in the ‘forget about it’ pile.

Making a gradual decline from his high, Spike held the girl away from him and let her see the sparkling waters of his eyes.

“So,” started Giles, bringing Spike swiftly to the living room he was behaving like such a git in. “What do you plan to do as your first feat of daylight tolerance?”

Spike stopped abruptly, a look of exhilaration passing across his face.

“Saturday, right?”

Giles and Willow nodded, wondering what the significance of the day of the week was.

“Where would Buffy be, do you think?”

Willow smothered a grin and furrowed her brow, a small teasing light reflected in the hue of her eyes.

“It’s not lunch time yet. My guess would be she’s still happily in the land of nod.”

Spike watched her, incredulous. But a snort of dishonesty didn’t erupt from her mouth, and with his knowledge of the redhead and her inability to lie straight in bed—let alone in front of his all-seeing eye—he was inclined to believe Buffy was still snuggled up in her bed.

And an evil smirk of intent curled his lip.

“Right. ‘Bout time the Slayer was upright and useful, wouldn’t you think?”

Before either could reply, he’d swept out of the flat, his coat flapping like bat wings, or a superhero’s cape.

“Well, that was about the best vampire surgery I’ve ever done,” confided Willow with her quirky grin.

“Quite,” replied Giles, feeling rather chuffed with the achievement despite having lifted not even a finger. “It was rather the best demon operation I’ve ever observed, too.”

They shared a moment of happy certitude before the smiles faltered slowly.

“You don’t think we’ve made a massive mistake, do you?” Willow’s voice was suddenly small and she resembled the demeanor of a confused frightened teenager and Giles prayed to God they hadn’t.

He removed his glasses from his face and began his nervous polishing.

“I guess time will tell, and just hope we haven’t created a mon…well, a larger problem.”

Willow shivered and worried about Buffy and her no doubt in-transit visitor.

Had they just made a big mistake allowing Spike to become so powerful? Giving him free reign over night as well as day?

Willow hoped not because despite the whole threatening to rip your throat out thing, she kinda liked him. Even more than Angel. At least he knew how to have fun and didn’t brood so much.

With a silent prayer that things would be all right in Slayerland, Willow helped Giles clean up the operation instruments: sharp scalpel, darning needle and fishing line. Then she disappeared into the sunshine for some quality homework time.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The sunlight couldn’t prevent his first venture to her window. Perched on a limb outside her bedroom he watched her writhe and twist her bedsheets into an adorable little tangle. Though her head was turned toward her other wall, Spike had the glorious vision of her hair. He was twisting himself into knots with longing to wrap his hands in that mane and tugging her head round so he could capture her mouth in a brutal hello kiss.

It never occurred that anyone could see him from the street, that he looked more stalkerish now than he had when he’d needed to stalk. But luckily he was hidden from view by branches and he was allowed to look on his woman in leisure.

She was exquisite, if young.

And the thought of having to wait for her to grow up a little was giving him a whopper of a headache.

As he watched her body shifted, allowing her cover sheet to drag a little lower and revealing a whole lot of thigh as her leg fell off the edge of the bed. Spike grinned as he mentally swept over the secrets of her body.

‘She’d be a mite cheesed off if she knew how well I know that body,’he thought, but couldn’t hold back on the smiling pleasure he felt. Thoughts of Buffy—his Buffy—led him down a bittersweet track. Her easy giving of her body but not her heart had his smile fading and he lowered his head.

He couldn’t help but become overwhelmed by the possibilities…the ‘what if’s’ about this crazy ride he had embarked upon. Not like there was any chance of a refund if he bollocksed the whole thing up. Anya would have definitely bestowed more wishes on the unsuspecting heartbroken, so the option of contacting her and going back to the world he had already lived was impossible. He had no choice but to make the best of it.

But what if Buffy had told him the truth? What if she had truly meant that she could never love him, never even like him enough to acknowledge to her friends that she spent time with him? The constant circle of those options near drove Spike insane and he wanted to squash something rather heavily.

The heart that didn’t beat, that to her didn’t feel love, clenched in agonising dread. To have to watch her again be made a fool of by Angel was unbearable to contemplate. If nothing else he had to prevent the emergence of Angelus, redirect her interest from the souled vamp. Sure, with every unliving cell within him Spike wished she would move on with him, allow him to prove to her how good he could be, how loving and devoted he would be.

But if the chance never accomplished, he would be content—well more likely satisfied yet devastated—if he could steer her away from unleashing the greatest git, Angelus. And save a whole bunch of Scooby innocence to boot. Poor little Red had never gotten over the horror of her dead goldfish. Angelus was a right cruel bastard, and that little feat took the cake.

The teacher would live.

Spike couldn’t help but wonder what the Watcher might have been like toward him in later years if he hadn’t lost the chance of love. Yeah, so if Buffy would never love him, never see him as anything but a hot stud to get her kicks, he could be content that he had saved an important life, insuring Rupert’s happiness, and kept Buffy from encountering one of the most heinous evil vampires in history.

Not that Spike was overly keen to see his sire post-soul.

The soul had changed him, added to his cruelty and single-minded obsession to make the world pay. Though Spike’s love for Dru had receded far back into memory—been usurped by the enormity of his feelings for Buffy—he still felt the cut of Angelus’s hatred for him. That the elder vamp had forced the issue with Dru—reclaiming her duties as his childe in the absence of his beloved Darla—had created a new level of strained relationship between the two male kin.

While the beginning of their relationship had been fraught with William’s often misguided but bloody efforts to get his Sire’s approval, the latter half of twenty years had established a bond between them that the soul had destroyed forever. When the leash had been removed, the Angelus of old was replaced with a vindictive bastard that no longer cared who he had loved as his evil persona, instead forgoing every feeling to wreak havoc and pain on those who welcomed his soulful status.

So, Spike nipped it in the bud. If anything, he felt sure of his minimal influence over Buffy’s libido. He knew he could get her hot, was still reeling about her requested taste of him. To have his cock surrounded by her cool wet lips had been pure bliss. That she’d wanted him to be first in that way, near blew the top off his head. Or melted the gel in his hair.

Again his eyes turned to her lying peacefully on the bed, and when he encountered amused green eyes open and observing him outside her window, he nearly fell out of the tree in shock.

“Ah, good morning?” he struggled as he desperately tried to cover up his less than graceful slide down the branch.

Her eyes widened comically as his words sunk in and she saw the sunlight filtering round him and the leaves on the tree. Like an erratic bolt of lightening she streaked from the bed, her minimal sleeping attire blurring as she rushed to him, grabbed his shirt and slammed him into the invisible barrier keeping him out.

“Spike,” she shouted in horror, again slamming his face into the barrier so hard his teeth rattled. Again and again until he felt his consciousness compromised.

“Buffy,” he shouted, frantically trying to loosen her grip on his t-shirt before his face became vampire mush. “Invite me in, luv. Might be better on the looks.”

“Come in, Spike,” she rushed through her lips and all of a sudden they flew backwards and sprawled in an unseemly pile on the floor, Spike bruised and in pain but lying in his favourite spot. Directly on top with his hips nestled between her legs.

Though inside they still lay in sunlight, so with a quick twist and a tug Buffy had encased them within her comfy bedding, finally sighing heavily with the relief of protecting him from combustion.

There was silence in the dark, only one chest heaving with both fright and breath.

“You scared the crap out of me,” screeched the more feminine voice in the darkness, and Spike chuckled through painful lips.

“Might ‘ave picked up on that a tad, pet.”

The following silence did nothing but emphasise the bulge resting against her panties and Spike bit desperately down on the impulse to grind into her a little. When the cup of her hips lifted fractionally, that was the end of his endurance and he rubbed his crotch against her damp panties hard. His face fell to the crook of her neck and his human teeth latched on to her skin, muffling his cry of yearning.

He wanted to rip off her clothes, bath her with his tongue until she was utterly incoherent. He wanted her naked and writhing in fits of ecstasy while his tongue manipulated her into love. He needed so badly for her to believe his feeling for her, so the quick violent encounter was out this time round. No taking her up against walls in crumbling condemned buildings.

But he could give her a taste…and along the way quench his own thirst.

“Buffy,” he whispered into the air around her, his voice hopeful and tentative.

“Yes,” she whispered back, her voice hitched a little in thwarted desire.

“Remember the other day? When you…you know…” Spike was incredulous. Since when did he have trouble being crude, blatant with the sexual innuendo? Perhaps the fact that it had been Buffy’s first real sexual experience had allowed her innocence to rub off a little and he was slightly more sensitive to how she would see all this.

“When I…um…slayed the generic demon and we had to wash up in Giles’s bathroom?”

Spike choked on a cough of surprise.

“Ah, yeah.”

“What about it?” she asked, her voice heavy with hope.

“I was thinking you might like to feel what it was like for me to slay a generic demon. Less mess when I do it, though.” He wished she could see him wink but was sure she could hear the tease in his voice.

“A girl should always be ready to learn. Whenever you’re ready.” She accompanied her permission with a small slap to his bum and a wriggle of her fanny against his cock and he couldn’t help but growl into her neck. He felt the goosebumps raise on her skin and smiled in satisfaction. Oh yeah, Big Bad still had it.

He looped his finger around the panty strap around her hip and slowly tugged it down, seeking the gleam of her eyes in the blackness. As the elastic gently lowered—and finally the panties freeing her lower body—Spike breathed in deeply and growled in remembered delights. The fragrance of his Slayer would forever be the one thing he could summons memory of in his sleep.

The sweetness of her taste and texture, it brought tears to his eyes. Only just over a week ago she had told him that his love for her could only be real to him, because again, demons were incapable of true emotion. He thought he’d never be able to be with her again and that he was here now, with his nose nudging her curls, brought a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes.

It gave his tongue new purpose.

Her sighs and small nervous shifts of movement opened up his heart and he swallowed the urge to collapse on her belly and cry for her forgiveness, sob for her belief in him. He needed her so badly in his life that it hurt every part of him, even the hidden parts he had never allowed Dru to touch.

Only the thought of his story freaking Buffy out forced him into holding his tongue, so when the appendage instead began to slide over her reddened lips, the gush of her fluid mixed with his cool tears as he worshiped her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him hard against her pussy, back arching as his tongue delved into her depths and exploring so far untouched territory. Her slick walls were like the sweetest dessert, and he felt himself lose control. He lapped at her and stroked with his tongue, gliding over the wet springy flesh as he avoided the one place she was dying to have him taste.

His tongue flicked out without guidance and she gasped, arching her back and pushing her clit further into the sucking vacuum of his mouth. His fingers dived inside her hot passage and smoothed over her…running the moisture all over her as he licked and sucked his way into heaven.

He couldn’t get enough, his body undulating against the floor as he rubbed his cock against the friction of the carpet, getting closer to off as he uncovered her secrets and gave her knowledge. The tears in his eyes multiplied as she bumped her snatch against his lips, his teeth grazing against the stubborn nub. He felt empowered by her cries of anguish, her desperation to feel what she had given him driving all decorum and shyness from her mind as he sucked hard on her clit. He opened his whole mouth to her, sucking her in at a frantic pace, his tongue flickering between gentle soft glides and hard rough swipes.

Her body heaved with the pressure, he could feel the fire bursting from her skin and for a moment he thought he was burning—Gem of Amara be damned. But it was nothing but the flush of her skin, the heat of her desire and need for release. His mouth covered her hardened clit one final time and he bit her, not too hard but enough to tip her over the edge.

She screamed and cried so loudly he thought his eardrums would burst.

He licked her gently, his body shaking with gratitude and love for this girl as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He felt her shudders echo through him and he felt the tears that had appeared when he first breathed her in making tracks to his chin. As her quivering abated, he lifted his head and allowed his body to slide up hers. He controlled the violent urge to tear her top from her flesh so he could take one of her glorious nipples into his mouth, too afraid of sensory overload in both himself and her.

This was the moment he would have liked to hear the words, the feelings he felt swirling around inside him so hard bouncing against him in an effort to find release. He bit the words back, not wanting to spook her. But he could not surrender his right to her lips. They’d just shared something wondrous and her lips were his, at least for now.

If he could make it forever, he would dust a happy vamp.

Long quiet minutes passed them by as they gathered their strength, allowing it to come in small bursts along with the desire building from the kiss.

His lips owned hers and they showed the skill gained from knowing. As his teeth nipped into the plump flesh of her bottom lip, her hands wandered over his back. His tongue, heavily tasting of her juices, succumbed to her frenzy and the kiss became so much more than everything…so much more than them.

He defied her to feel it. It was right, it was real, and it was so very overwhelming.

And her small yet strong hands were undoing his belt buckle.

He felt his cock twitch at the promise, and he wanted her so badly, to feel her heat burn his length again was almost unbearable with need. But he couldn’t do it. Not yet. They needed to learn about each other, he needed to respect her age, and he needed to complete his transition into her world.

He reluctantly removed her fingers from his zip and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“Buffy, as much as I would love to go there with you, I think it’s too soon.”

He prayed she wouldn’t test him on his sudden resolve.

“You are still evil, right?” He could hear the pout in her voice and he couldn’t help but smile at the innocence of this younger Buffy.

“Blatantly evil, luv. And when it’s time, you’ll know it.”

He snuggled up against her warmth, the sun beating down on their covered backs and finally Buffy connected the dots.

“Spike? How could you be sitting outside my window in the sun without turning into dust particles on the breeze? And hey? Can floating dusty vampire get into my house when they weren’t invited?”

Spike smiled into her creamy neck.

“Bit of a story there. You got some time?”

And he told her about his newfound sun tolerance while curled up under the girly protection of slayer bedding.

Spike knew he was in heaven.

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