Spike felt the stone floor rush up to meet his knees as he crumpled to the ground. Before him stood the statue that would forever represent everything he had lost in the few short months it had taken for his world to implode. His throat and chest felt tight with emotion. He choked back a sob as he found himself gasping for a breath he hadn’t needed in over a century as he fought a losing battle to gain a hold over the emotions that were trying to overwhelm him.
They were both gone. For the first time in his existence he was completely alone—Master by default of a family of which he was the only surviving member, a family that he felt no drive to rebuild or maintain now that he was alone. So alone.
Dru he had taken out easily—his dark, vicious Princess with her childlike innocence that had been the downfall of many a victim before him and many more after.
He had been defending himself when he had taken her out, reacting without thought to the consequences until she had crumpled to dust at his feet. It was only then that he realised what he had done. Surprisingly enough though, he hadn’t felt the mind numbing devastation that he had once believed he would have in the event of her demise. He could remember a time when even the mere thought of her final death was near painful. Not once would he have dreamt that he would be the one to end her. The dust that had rested before his feet, however, was evidence that he had, and strangely enough all that he had felt—was feeling—was the completely opposite.
Relief.
Relief that finally he had been released from the pressure brought from the continuous care she needed—a pressure that had been a constant in his unlife for more than a century. He loved her—he loved her more than anything he could ever remember loving—but he couldn’t deny that it was relief that he felt. And god help him if that didn’t make his heart ache more.
Perhaps even more shocking though, and what he could have never been prepared for was the complete sense of loss and loneliness he had felt with the death of his grandsire. Spike had been so sure that he hated him with everything he was: for his superiority, for leaving them when he got the soul, and for stealing Dru out from underneath him once again. He hated everything that Angelus represented and how he would dominate him for no other reason than to relieve boredom. He hated how he would fuck Dru in front of him and make her scream for him in a way she never allowed herself to with him. He just hated him. Yet the sliver of emotion he had felt as he had watched Angelus get sucked back through the portal had to be some indication that he still held some deeply seated emotion for the ponce—however small it may be.
It didn’t matter now though. He had rammed a sword though his grandsire’s gut and a stake through his princess’s heart. Spike shut his eyes and let his head fall back to face the ceiling as he let out a deep quavering breath. What the bloody hell was he meant to do now?
A small whimpering sound tickled the edge of his senses, so quiet he almost had to strain to hear it and he suddenly remembered he wasn’t alone. His gaze slid smoothly across to the crumpled form of the Slayer. The chit was in bad shape. Likely wouldn’t last the night without help. Her blood had fanned out from beneath her to form a crimson puddle of pain.
Slayer blood. Even now the smell was like no other, it called to him as the puddle steadily grew from beneath her inert form. He could hear her heart beat—slow and sluggish—straining with each beat to pump the life giving substance around her battered body only to force more out of the already gaping wound.
It was her fault he was alone now. She had proven to be nothing but a bleedin’ menace to his health and peace of mind ever since he had first laid eyes on her. Yet, she too was alone, exiled from her home and school and alienated from her friends as she had struggled to do what was right, and not what her romantic ideas bade her. Deep down she had to have known though, after all the things that had happened and all the things Angel had done that they would never be as they were.
The tragically poetic lovers—a vampire cursed with a soul to never again experience a moment of true happiness lest he turn into the monster that haunted his every waking moment and the Slayer, she who was chosen above all others to slay his kind. It was the sodding Anne Rice version of Romeo and Juliet all over again. They were doomed to fail from the beginning. A relationship like that could hardly have been healthy. Not like you were the star pupil for a healthy equally balanced relationship either, were you mate?
Without stopping to question what he was doing Spike pushed himself to his feet and walked over to her. As gently as he could he scooped her up into his arms, whispering soothing sounds at the moan of discomfort she gave as he jostled her body.
“It’s okay, pet. Spike’s got you,” he said as he slowly carried her through the halls of the mansion, bypassing the master bedroom and heading for the one that he had occupied. “I’m gonna fix you up, pet. You’ll be as good as new.”
He laid her out on the bed gently and made a quick inventory of her injuries. Nothing her Slayer healing couldn’t handle, it was the blood she was losing that was causing the most problems. She was losing it quicker than even her Slayer healing could replace it. A hospital was out of the question. Better that he just seal her wounds as quickly as possible and let the Slayer healing work its magic.
With no thought to her sense of modesty he grabbed her top and ripped it down the centre before peeling it away from her battered body. He paused for a moment to further asses the damage that had been done before moving to seal the wound most perilous to her health.
He dragged his tongue across the laceration that ran the length of her stomach. She moaned again as he lapped at the blood that was pooling until his saliva went to work at staunching the flow of blood. “Shh, pet, s’okay,” he mumbled as he systematically worked his way up her body, barely able to resist the call her blood had over his demon as it tried to force him to succumb to the bloodlust that was raging beneath the surface of his skin.
She was so close to the edge, he could just end it now—sate his demon’s hunger and move on with his life alone.
Alone. There was that word again.
A small growl escaped his lips but his eyes never once strayed from her form. She was the Slayer, but if he killed her then he would be truly alone and that wasn’t something he was ready to face yet. He didn’t know if he ever would; he was not a creature that thrived on solitude. He needed other people.
In a split decision he leant down over her neck and shifted into his demon’s guise before sliding his fangs effortlessly into her neck and taking a short pull of blood before releasing her again and sealing the wound.
“Mine,” he whispered though the volume of his voice would have done little to disturb her. A softly spoken ‘yours’ escaped her unconscious form on an exhaled breath and he felt the partial claim take root within, binding him to this creature before him.
Spike watched her for a moment unsure of what to do next. He had just claimed the Slayer. Of all the creatures in this world and the next he had claimed the Slayer, and he had done it without her permission.
Finally coming to a decision he reached down and undid her pants before sliding them down her legs leaving her clad in only her plain white bra and the scrap of material birds were passing for knickers these days. He groaned softly and took a moment to look at her. Even in her bruised and battered state she was beautiful.
Unable to control the urge, he ran his fingertips gently down the silky length of her leg coming to a rest just on her inner ankle bone. He paused for a moment, enthralled by the look of her tiny feet which deceivingly held so much power before gripping the bed covers that were bunched at the bottom of the bed and pulled them back up over the top of her, covering her body from his view.
Spike quickly discarded his own blood stained clothing and moved back to the side of the bed. Lifting the covers, he slipped in underneath and scooted his way over so he was lying beside Buffy. He gently pulled her body back into his until she was spooned against his chest. The heat that was emanating from her body quickly warmed his own skin as she unconsciously snuggled deeper in to his embrace as her heart beat began to lull him into a comfortable sleep.
The ache of loneliness that seemed to be ever present within his heart was eased somewhat by her quiet, subconscious acceptance. He would deal with the consequences of claiming the Slayer later; for now he was content to sleep with her body warming his own.
AN:So this is the new one, what do you guys think? I'm always nervous posting new fics, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to or not. I’ve actually been writing it for sometime, but only just made the decision to start posting it. I have a few chapters up my sleeve ready to post which I will gradually if this first chapter does ok. So review! :P Do you want more?
Thank you to Andrea for the beta! :D