AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hey you who clicked on this fic, I hope you like what I'm creating here, because I am creating and writing as I go. I also want to warn that I'm still very much an amateur at writing, and this is my fifth Spuffy fanfiction. I'm not fully sure where I'm going with this story yet, but with reviews and a little encouragement, I'm hoping I can find the ending. Please review and let me know how this first chapter is received! I hope it's enjoyed! :)
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Chapter 1

Buffy looked out her bedroom window for the fourth time. The darkness of the yard was eerie, shadows were cast from the weak light of the moon peeking out behind clouds. She saw a star here and there, but the sky was mostly hidden. Leafy trees swished playfully in the wind. Crickets should have been chirping, filling the silence.

Buffy wondered if it had scared them all away.

She let her curtain fall closed. Maybe she was just going crazy.

She'd seen the glowing eyes five times now, they moved and blinked and everything. And they were always staring up at her bedroom window, watching.

Less than a week ago, when it first occurred, Buffy thought she'd been seeing things. The following night she was closing her window when her eyes played the same trick, made her "see things" again.

Two little yellow dots, nearly slits, just staring at her from behind a tree covered by shadows in her backyard.

She knew they were eyes from the way they blinked. They were never in the exact same place every time Buffy looked out her window, half hiding behind her wispy curtains, and they moved like someone was changing position out there or shuffling their feet.

She was freaked. Something was watching her at night, and she had no idea who- er, what, it was. By the third evening, anger had risen high enough to urge her to investigate.

Once the sun came up, that is.

She looked all around the tree, even climbed it. She peeked over the high privacy fence into a neighbor's backyard and checked for anything capable of creating an amber reflection.

Nothing. No reflection, no glares, no shiny tacky lawn ornament to explain the eyes staring up at her window during the night. It couldn't be a cat either. A feline's gaze reflected light, but they didn't glow. Not the way these eyes did.

Tonight, with the wind smelling of magnolia and the cooling silence that always surrounded her home while the world slept, Buffy felt utterly alone. Alone and vulnerable, for the second time in her life.

She had half a mind to storm outside in nothing but her nightshirt and slippers, screaming, if she saw them again. They'd made her so jumpy as of late, yesterday she nearly sloshed hot coffee on her boss when she tapped Buffy on the shoulder.

It was exhausting feeling like this all the time, and she was sick of asking people to repeat themselves because she hadn't heard them the first time they'd spoken. She couldn't focus at all lately.

Buffy opened the curtain again. Nothing.

"Well what's the point if you're not even going to show, Spooky Eyes?" That was her nickname for the peeping-tom; she really did prefer it to "stalker."

Suddenly, they appeared, as if they'd just heard her. Looking up and flickering like candle flames, they stared into her bedroom window. Buffy's lips turned down as she cursed her racing heartbeat.

She was done.

Shoving her feet into the slippers beside the bed, she grabbed her pepper spray from her day purse and left the room.

Heading downstairs, floorboards creaked and the emptiness of the house felt cold. Her mother used to own this place, but now Buffy was the lone resident and she'd never realized how well-known surroundings drenched in shadow could be so unnerving until tonight.

Her feet padded silently into the kitchen. A breeze blew through the trees, making the ones outside the window by the sink rustle and dance.

Buffy swallowed. It was easy enough to reach the backdoor, but turning the knob was a different story.

*Twist, pull, peek outside. It's easy, Buffy. Relax.*

Any inner voice of reassurance died when her foot bumped a broom leaning against the wall. Her shout covered the sound of the wooden handle hitting the tile floor.

Breathing hard, hand pressed against her chest as she tried to get her pulse to calm, Buffy started to shake. God, she was on edge- And SO tired of this!

The little pepper spray bottle in her hand trembled when she yanked the door open and held it half hidden behind her leg. She stormed out onto the back deck, and the quiet, breezy night greeted her. It wrapped around her shoulders and ankles, making her shiver. It wasn't cold out but neither was it hot, and somehow, she didn't feel the least bit exposed standing there in an oversized nightshirt that barely covered her butt. She felt utterly isolated.

Yet hardly alone.

Buffy cursed when she saw the eyes, they blinked at her and suddenly seemed more threatening than ever before.

The head of them must have tilted. Buffy stared hard and direct, one fist clenched and poised on her hip. The smell of magnolia wafted around her senses, playing with adrenaline and nearly making her dizzy. She glared into the shadows, abruptly wishing for more light.

She went back inside without turning her back on the open door. She took a dainty keychain flashlight out of a drawer near the refrigerator, and found the eyes had moved when she got outside again. She switched her little flashlight on that had one powerful battery left inside, and pointed the white glow towards the tree.

It was a man. Tall, leather coat, looked like a serial killer.

Buffy bolted inside and relocked the door. She traded her little flashlight for the phone. She was about to dial 911 when a thud came from behind her.

She dropped her pepper spray, almost losing the phone, as well.

Where the bravery came from to look out the four paneled glass window of the door, Buffy couldn't say. All she could tell you was that when she did, she saw a rock lying on the deck wrapped in paper.

No sane person would open that door again.

Buffy didn't. She ran up the stairs, back to bed, clutching both phone and pepper spray against her chest until sunrise came. Then, the eyes were gone for good, along with the man they belonged to.

With dawn came sleep. Buffy didn't wake until well past one in the afternoon, and the first thing she did was walk to the kitchen and then out her backdoor.

The rock was still there. She picked it up with an angry huff and prayed the note wouldn't be written in blood or something else equally terrifying.

Nope. Written in plain old ink was the message: "I won't hurt you."

Well, that was rich. Buffy crumpled the note and threw it away. She decided to make out a police report then and there.

***

The next time Buffy saw him, it was a week later. She had the phone in her hand and one finger ready to press the number nine, when another thud came at her backdoor.

It was a rock again, smaller this time, more like a pebble and without any paper. A flower lay beside it, as if it'd been placed there before the rock was thrown.

Buffy called the cops. They arrived quickly, but Spooky Eyes had gone by then.

***

The next morning, she had plenty of curiosity to get her to go out and pick up the flower. Buffy kicked the rock off of her little deck, and sniffed the rose in her hand. It was bright red, every petal spread and soft.

She had a purely feminine urge to bring it inside and put it in water. She had a thin crystal vase that would be perfect.

Buffy went back inside and tossed the flower in the garbage to let it rot atop an empty jar of mayonnaise. She couldn't have known that only hours later, once the moon rose high in the sky, there would be another flower. This time a daisy, and there would be no rock beside it.

She had gone out to dinner with a friend from work that evening. The drinks and laughter she'd shared with Faith Lehane over their meal put Buffy in a good enough mood that walking up to her front porch hadn't wracked quite all her nerves. She almost forgot to look over her shoulder.

After reaching the kitchen, though, to go through the mail she'd left neglected on the island counter earlier in the day, her memory came rushing back.

She froze, staring at the sealed envelope holding an electric bill, and took three deep breaths before setting it down. She then walked slowly to the backdoor, and stared outside. When she saw the daisy, she looked to the tree.

The man was there, and Buffy ran immediately for the phone. She picked it up and returned to the paneled window. The eyes hadn't moved, and chills danced up and down her arms. She swallowed and then got herself a dial tone.

Before she could even press another button, the man moved. He stepped forward, into a pale stream of moonlight that rested on the grass. His face was-... It shifted.

Buffy shook her head. No. No it didn't. But his eyes weren't glowing anymore. They were hard to even see so far away.

He stepped closer again. Even with the door between them both, Buffy still felt like she might be two seconds away from getting the life choked out of her.

She dialed 911 and by the time she looked out the window again, the man was gone.

She slammed the phone down on the receiver.

***

Buffy was making coffee in order to function the next morning, and saw something new on the deck. Beside the daisy still lying there, sat an envelope.

She debated leaving it to get blown away, then realized it was held down by the flowerpot she had filled with sun loving foliage. Buffy looked closer.

She stormed outside after noticing her name was scrawled across the paper, grabbing the daisy on her way to the flowerpot. Black ink had never looked so distinct, the way the letters were written. A shiver went down the back of her neck.

Buffy tore open the message while her heart beat heavily in her chest. The fact there wasn't a message inside was enough to turn her rushing blood to ice. Nothing. Not a single thing.

He was screwing with her.

Buffy was late to work the following morning. She realized yesterday that she couldn't handle this anymore, after throwing the daisy in the trash.

***

That night, when she saw the eyes peering up into her bedroom window again, Buffy didn't even move. She stayed in her room, and didn't dare close her eyes for any longer than it would take to blink, until she finally saw him leave.

He seemed to know when sunrise was coming, for he was always gone half an hour before the first rays of morning shone across Sunnydale.

Buffy called in sick to work that day. Her boss was a sweetheart, and Buffy never took days off, so Willow Rosenberg told her to get healthy and not to even think about coming back to work until every sniffle was gone. Buffy was considering that, no matter how fictional the sniffles, to give herself about a week off.

She was frightened, the stress Spooky Eyes was throwing on her back would break her eventually. She wanted to catch him, she wanted to feel safe again, and she wanted to know why he was watching her.

Call her crazy, but Buffy had an odd feeling he really wasn't trying to... hurt her. But she wasn't stupid enough to trust such a non-cautionary gut feeling. It was simply the fact he hadn't tried to break into her house yet, but he kept coming back to stand in her backyard, even (most likely) knowing she'd called the cops on him more than once.

It didn't make sense. Sure, some crazies stalked their victims before attacking, but did it really seem right he would watch her, continue watching her even after she became aware of his presence, without trying to actually interact? He'd left two letters, one just to prove he knew her name.

She didn't recognize him, didn't think he was somebody she knew. He was much too recognizable to be easily forgotten, and Buffy was known to never forget a face. Names, she wasn't great with, but so far the stranger with weird eyes was nameless.

She wished she could figure out why, even knowing she didn't know this man, she felt like she should.

***

The hours of her day off at home ticked by quickly. She cleaned up a little, ordered a pizza for dinner, and then called her sister.

That phone conversation had gone... Well, it had gone. Familial reassurance helped steady Buffy's nerves, even when no one realized they were helping to reassure anything.

"Harris residence."

"Aren't you tired of answering the phone like that?" Buffy teased. "You two have been married for over a year now."

"Hey Buffy!" Dawn excitedly squealed. "Long time no talk, how's it going?"

"Apparently not as well as your life," she laughed. "I think every time I hear your voice, you get more and more chipper."

She giggled almost like a child. "What can I say? Married life treats me well."

"I'm glad you're happy." Buffy smiled against the speaker. "How's the hubby?"

"Good," she answered, obviously grinning on the other end of the line. "He's in the study doing something with blueprints right now, but after he's done we're going out to eat. There's this new restaurant about five miles away, and I'm dying to try it!"

"Judging by your excitement, I'm guessing Mediterranean food?" Buffy asked intuitively.

"You bet."

"Sounds very yum," she said. "I ordered a pizza not long ago, which was also high on the yummy scale."

"Ooh, with anchovies?"

"I never liked those salty things, Dawn. You did."

"They aren't that bad..."

"Yes, they are."

"Mom used to like them."

"And I used to cringe in sympathy for both of your taste buds," Buffy said. "So, how's the new job?"

"Oh, it's great!" Dawn answered brightly, flowing with the conversation change. "I love it, my boss is super nice, too. She says I'm the perfect person to be her assistant. Apparently..."

Buffy listened attentively to the update, idly noting how it reminded her all a little bit of the plot from some 80's movie she couldn't remember the name of.

It had been a couple weeks since the Summers sisters last talked. They usually tried to speak over the phone at least two or three times a week, ever since Dawn moved out and got married. She and Buffy stayed in touch even though living apart; the death of their mother was one catastrophe that had managed to bring the girls closer.

"... she loves me. She actually said that! And Xander's doing great at work right now, being the boss-man agrees with him."

"That's terrific," Buffy said. "Tell him I say congratulations when we hang up, will ya?"

"Sure thing. So how's work stuff going for you? Still Willow's favorite employee, I assume?"

Buffy laughed. "I'm actually taking a couple of sick days right now, but yeah, work is good. Willow actually said to-"

"Sick days?" Dawn interrupted, suspicion obvious in her voice. "You aren't sick, though. If you were, you wouldn't be calling me. You'd be laying in bed sleeping and downing glass after glass of OJ."

Buffy bit her lip. "You're not wrong..."

"Why are you taking off work? I agree, you deserve some time to yourself, but it isn't like you. At all."

Buffy pouted. "I'm not a workaholic."

"Yes, you are. No, you don't bring work home with you, but you have NEVER taken a vacation unless it's a national holiday, like Christmas or something. You get annoyed when you have to skip work on Memorial Day. C'mon Buffy, what's the deal here?"

She sighed. "Alright. I'm having some trouble... relaxing."

"What?"

"I..." Buffy contemplated spilling, but something stopped her. The weird guy that inhabited her backyard every night was her problem, not Dawn's. There was no need to worry her little sister. "I can't seem to get enough sleep lately," she finally said, "so I just wanted a break. I think a few days off work is what's needed."

"Oh," Dawn said. "Well, yeah, definitely. If you need more rest, you should be getting it. Sleep's important."

Buffy rolled her eyes with a grin. "I should expect that sentence coming out of the mouth of someone who sleeps fourteen hours a day."

Dawn scowled through the phone. "You're just jealous- And might I remind you that I only do that on weekends now? And you kept up damn well with those sleep logs during summertime when we were younger, remember?"

Buffy sniffed a little laugh. "Okay, okay, I'm not denying it. Know that I plan on giving you a run for your money these next couple days, too."

"It's a game now?"

"Pajama up, sis."

"You're on!"

A sudden thud from the kitchen made Buffy drop the phone. Her heart abruptly stopped, then restarted to a jackhammer beat in her chest. Swallowing hard, she grabbed the talking device off the ground and quickly answered Dawn, who kept repeating herself. "I'm here, I- I just... dropped the phone."

"Oh," the other woman breathed. "Well, don't be so clumsy, I thought you'd been bashed over the head or something."

Buffy gulped, her eyes unblinking. "What? Who would do that?"

"You and I both have seen way too many horror movies for me to even try answering that question," She said. "The list would be ten feet long!"

Buffy let out a shaky laugh, her mind suddenly spinning around and around with the fresh adrenaline pulsing through her body. She was so tired of this feeling. "Um, Dawn, I'll call ya later. Okay?"

She could practically hear her sister frowning through the receiver. "Oh... Well, okay. Xander just came out anyways, so I think we're about to go."

"Okay."

"He says hi," Dawn added, after telling her husband who she was talking to.

"T-Tell him I say hi back."

"Alright. We love you, Buffy, talk to ya later!"

"Love you too." Buffy hung up the phone, her finger frozen over the dial tone button. When she stood up the floorboards whined quietly beneath her bare feet. Her knees practically wobbled as she walked through the dining room. Entering the kitchen, she could feel her heart hitting the inside of her chest, pounding against it like a sledgehammer. She stopped dead when another sound came from outside.

That was a knock.

She gulped again and quickly dialed 911. A hand suddenly appeared in the window and Buffy stopped dead. She saw his face, and she dropped the phone again. Her lungs seized. The lights in the room all blinked out of her vision as her eyes zeroed in on the blue ones looking inside.

They recognized her. Buffy didn't notice her call had hung up until she grabbed the phone off the floor.

She went to redial when he knocked once more. Calmly, not loud, his stare penetrating and expectant. She ignored the shuddering in her body and hung up the phone. "Get the hell out of here!"

He didn't flinch. Buffy held up the device in her hands. "I'm calling the cops!"

Nothing. No startling response whatsoever, except for an eye roll, though Buffy didn't catch it as she was too busy pressing buttons.

A foreign voice resounded throughout her kitchen, from outside, its source stared at her with a hand pressed up to glass. The calm but insistent look on his face had Buffy hanging up again, and she didn't understand why. She chewed on her bottom lip, almost making it bleed for it was already raw.

"You can talk to me through the door if you want, Buffy," the man said.

The sound of her name was like a shock to her heart, and it lit up every feeling of anger conjured over these last couple weeks and sent them through her nervous system like a bullet.

She stormed up to the backdoor, and stood a foot back from the glass. Her forehead wrinkled and her hand clenched around the phone. "How do you know my name?" she practically growled.

"Read your mail," he answered with a casual shrug.

She exhaled sharply before letting her fear get the better of her. "How did you find me?!" she yelled, "WHY are you stalking me?!"

"I'm not stalking you."

She took note of the British accent, chills running down her neck and arms. "You've been watching me."

"Yeah." He titled his head very slightly, one dark eyebrow flicking up. "And there's no intent to harm, pet."

She moved forward fast and slammed her hand against the glass. "You're insane," she ground out. "Get off my property, get out of my life, and leave me alone!"

He didn't react to her wrath. He simply looked at her, still as a rock, his eyes shimmering in the dim light of the moon. Their blue color was deep and bright at the same time, they looked like little gems. So vibrant. The color reminded Buffy of the ocean, or a robin's egg. They fairly sparkled as she drew closer.

The door opened noiselessly. Buffy's fingers brushed against the wood as she moved outside. Magnolias reached her senses, she breathed in, out, barely noticing the cool wind that hit her cheeks.

Suddenly, she was flying. Off the deck, her ribs surrounded by leather encased arms, her back hit a tree, and that's when she woke up.

Gasping and then screaming, she should have expected the hand over her mouth. Hers started to sweat as she brought her knee up, but he quickly grabbed it, squeezed, and pinned her immobile with the rest of his body. She struggled against him. Biting didn't work, neither did trying to hit and claw his face.

She failed. She failed miserably and felt the oxygen in her blood fizzle away. His lips found her ear, his breath made her shiver. Never more had Buffy wanted to kill somebody.

Low and direct, strong, his voice fluttered by her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you." He locked eyes with her. "I promise."

It was a vow. The man didn't growl or grunt the words, didn't flippantly throw them out there, didn't scream. He vowed not to hurt her.

Buffy didn't believe him for a second. However, on the off chance that she could avoid decorating the tree trunk with her own blood if she stopped fighting the lunatic, she did quit moving.

She noticed the bright color of his eyes again. "You'll understand," he said, with his deep accent that made her want to run far away so she'd never hear it again. "Watch me."

She watched. With her pulse nearly jumping through the skin on her neck, the man's face crumpled into wrinkles and his brow protruded. Buffy froze as the color of light sapphire changed to yellow gold.

She didn't even try and scream. He opened his mouth and she saw jagged teeth. Something... She abruptly realized that something wasn't right. Not because of the obvious. This was a monster in front of her, the kind you see in movies and talk about around a campfire, but her safety was no longer at risk. He was inhuman, and Buffy didn't feel threatened anymore.

That was the something that wasn't right. She didn't feel like her life was in danger, not anymore. She felt utterly confused and wary, even a little scared still, but her limbs had stopped shaking. Her heartbeat returned to its normal beat. He pulled his hand away, and then his face fell back into place, human eyes and blunt front teeth, a flat forehead. "I knew it..." he breathed, "I knew that'd work."

She wanted to ask what the hell he was talking about and why he seemed beyond relieved, but her nerves were too fried. She recognized him. It was the first time she'd seen this man. Buffy could never recall being so close to his lips, his blue eyes were still foreign to her, and his sharp jaw and cheeks weren't at all familiar. Yet somehow, she recognized him. It was in a way she couldn't understand.

"The demon," he mumbled to her, and inanely, she listened. "It recognizes you, so does the... man."

The understanding with which he spoke, like he was actually trying to comfort her, was what probably pushed Buffy to speak. "Who are you?"

Disappointment and realization fell across his face. Then, his features hardened. Buffy tensed as he framed her cheek with his hand. "Your mate."

She looked at him like he was crazy. Because surely, the emotions running through her couldn't be sensible, and neither could this monster. That word shouldn't have struck anything in her, yet it had and now something was ringing like a gong. He was hypnotizing her or messing with her head. He wasn't human, she must be in a nightmare.

She shoved him back and ran for the house. He let her go. Frantically, she locked the door once she got inside and left him behind. He stood there for a couple seconds more, in the darkness of the magnolia, but soon left again, as quickly and silently as the wind.

Buffy put her hand to her forehead and slowly dropped to the floor, her back sliding down the wood of the door.

What had just happened? Who was he- WHAT was he?! Why was he trying to talk to her? What on earth did he mean by "mate"? Why did she feel like she suddenly knew him? Why did she even have an inkling?

Buffy spent a lot of time losing sleep that night, and she never called the cops again.

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END NOTES: Please review! Thanks for taking the time to read!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I am so happy with the response I got for the first chapter! I really hope this one is as well received! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy chapter number 2! :)
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He didn't show the next night, or the night after that.

Buffy woke up with a weight on her chest the morning after, her first thought of Spooky Eyes. She really didn't think she could call him that anymore. Of course, she didn't know his real name, but somehow giving him such a childish title didn't comfort her any longer.

Something eerie had happened between them, and her heart still didn't feel right.

Buffy turned her head to look at the clock on her nightstand. It was three in the afternoon. She'd slept so late, but had only gotten about five hours of rest.

Her stalker was going to kill her; hopefully, not literally. What happened between them shouldn't make her any less scared or feel any more secure. If anything, the man had given her more reasons to be afraid of him- He wasn't even a man.

Yet somehow, someway, the fact he could've done anything to her last night and didn't... put her at ease. And it shouldn't. She SHOULD want to call the police again, but Buffy couldn't bring herself to pick up the phone. She hated herself a little for that.

Even though something like common sense kept telling her it would be a waste anyway, she should want to try and get rid of this person- monster- thing that was hounding her.

Why couldn't she conjure the terror she'd been able to experience so easily before? Before last night's... whatever that was. Fear was the lowest ranking emotion right now. If he was so dangerous, and she so vulnerable, why wasn't she petrified any longer? How come she couldn't sleep last night not because she was scared of his presence, but because he'd left her... uneasy. Like there were questions floating around in her brain and she didn't know what they asked. She felt confused, not scared.

Buffy took a shaky breath as she sat up in bed. Upon standing, she realized she was dizzy.

She shook her head and went to the bathroom. She opened the cabinet and applied toothpaste to her little blue toothbrush, catching her reflection in the mirror, noting the circles beneath her tired eyes. The hazel green stood out starkly against her pale skin, like little neon signs, but they sure as hell didn't glow.

Why did his eyes glow? Why did his face change? Why did he have fangs? What was he?

Buffy spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth. She let out a sigh, fogging the mirror in front of her. She rubbed her eyes. Why couldn't she muster up the desire to leave?

If she left home for a little while, maybe went to stay with Dawn and Xander (they were always inviting her to come visit), she could clear her head and sleep peacefully for a night. Her friend Faith would welcome Buffy at her apartment in a heartbeat too, if she knew about the stalker guy. Hell, she'd probably decide to threaten the man face to face.

Buffy sighed. She had places she could go, but leaving her home behind, running away, didn't sit well.

The day passed on, and she went about it as any normal person might. Cleaning the kitchen was simple and the dishes went fast, she dusted around the whole house, took out the trash. The sun set slowly and quietly. Around six it started raining, the water droplets splattering dirt and grass to create muddy puddles. The magnolia tree was beginning to lose its pink and white flowers, the smell of them combined with the thunderstorm was a perfume she wanted to bottle. It calmed Buffy down more than hours of mindless television or buckets of chocolate ice cream ever could. The rain copied her pulse and made her feel less alone.

Huddling in her bed with a book that night, Buffy was only able to keep her eyes on the pages and words for so long. She checked out the window nearly every fifteen minutes after the sun had gone, and the entire night passed without seeing the monster in her garden even once.

The following day went by nearly just the same, and while more sluggish and tired than usual, Buffy wasn't sure why she couldn't feel relieved over the prospect of getting better sleep if he didn't show up again that night. Which, he didn't.

The moon was dim and hidden behind clouds again when he did return, on the third night since she'd first really talked to him. Buffy didn't know why she sensed there would be a second time.

He stood near the tree for about five minutes before approaching her backdoor, and Buffy ran barefoot down to the kitchen. She wore a long nightgown with a hem that reached her ankles, and thin spaghetti straps that wrapped around her shoulders. The cool air should be causing a chill but her heart was racing too fast to even notice. Her hand met the doorknob and the other hit the glass, their eyes locking.

She glared at him, fiery hazel meeting and challenging a bright gaze of azure blue. He looked at her like he'd missed her, and she didn't get why, but she could tell he did. He also looked demanding and impatient, and suddenly she was opening the door.

He pulled her close the second her wrist cleared the doorway. Buffy didn't realize what was happening until she was in his arms and the wind made goose bumps rise up on her skin.

"Why do you keep doing that?!" she yelled, as soon as awareness came back.

"Doing what?" he asked calmly. Her hysteria and confusion didn't seem to penetrate his brain, or bother him in the least. The man/monster merely stared at her unblinking, while his arms stayed wrapped around her, banded.

"How- Wh-Why did you make me come out here?"

He stood in silence, and Buffy didn't fight his grip on her. She waited until he murmured, "Because I needed to see you."

"How do you even know who I am?!" Buffy shouted.

"Because you belong to me."

"The hell I do!" That's when she started fighting. She pushed and shoved, tried pinching and finally resorted to biting, but he stopped her. He ran them both to the side of the house and pinned her with his own body. They were breathing heavily, and he looked angry, but Buffy still went for a headbutt. He dodged it before allowing his face to morph.

Her eyes widened in disbelief and she started shaking. Anger fairly clouded her vision, even as she stared at a monster.

A low, little growl emanated from somewhere deep in his chest, followed by his slow murmuring again. "Have you considered the fact you're not afraid of me anymore?"

Something about the tone of his voice didn't sound right; he sounded slightly... scared? What was he risking?

"Why you aren't scared" he whispered, "of my fangs?"

Buffy breathed deep and quick before growling a question of her own. "What are you?"

He moved his face in closer to her, their lips almost touching. "I'm your mate. And you are mine." He took a slow inhale and his nostrils flared. "I need to be near you, and you need me to be. It's a vampire... thing, hard to understand when you're trembling in the arms of somebody you barely know."

"I don't know you at all," Buffy breathed quietly, almost to herself.

"You will," he replied.

The confidence with which he said that scared her. The fear was so familiar an emotion that she gladly latched onto it, and allowed it to enter her voice. "I don't want to know you. I want you to leave me alone."

She jolted at the insane sensation that hit her after those words, the revolting feeling of objection. Something inside her didn't want him to leave her alone. What was that telling her, asides from that she was certifiably insane?

He leaned in even closer, and Buffy tried to ignore the look of hurt in his eyes. Why did it so much as register?

His forehead pressed to hers, and all breathing ceased. He said, "No, you don't."

She wanted to hit him and run from him and go back inside, hide in the safety of her bedroom and never see his face again. The most frightening thing, though, was that she didn't really want to do any of those things.

He let her go. Stepping back, Buffy pressed herself further into the wall propping her up and watched him move away. She finally took note of his clothes and realized how threatening he might look in broad daylight, wearing a smile. The long leather coat, black shirt and jeans, Doc Marten combat boots, and bleached blonde Billy Idol hair on top... She ground her teeth together.

"Go to the library, get a couple books on vampires. You'll find everything you need and more." He scoffed as he walked down the steps of the deck, his back turned on her. "Probably a lot of useless rot, too, but at least you'll get facts along with the bullshit."

She spoke up again when he'd reached the middle point in the grass, nearly twenty feet away from where she still stood. "I don't want you coming back here."

He turned around and pulled a lighter out of his pocket, followed by a cigarette which he quickly placed between his lips and then lit. "We don't always get the things we want, pidge."

"Well this time, I will." She stomped forward, placing her gripping hands on the railing of the deck. "You will stay out of my life, away from my house, and away from me. Because that is what I want."

He breathed out a cloud of smoke, as calm and impassive as a statue. "Tough."

Buffy clenched her fists at her sides, and nearly punched herself in the chest when something inside it rebelled against his leaving. When his leather coat was no longer flapping in the wind, and the backyard was empty, Buffy ran into her house and slammed the kitchen door on the night.

She went to the refrigerator and got a bottle of cold water, downing half its contents in four gulps. She slammed the bottle down on the island, breathing fast and raggedly. She wasn't going to look for any books, or even web search. She wasn't going to admit he was in her life, that he was obviously trying to change it, or drive her nuts.

Buffy was going to cut him out. No matter how loudly the unknown sensations inside her protested, or why.

***

The next day, she woke up with a headache. Three cups of coffee into the morning, and she still didn't know how to fix her Friday. The afternoon came and passed quickly, then the moon rose, and with it, her heart rate. Buffy finished off a bottle of aspirin.

The last two pills in that old bottle did nothing to relieve her pain, so she went to a 24-hour pharmacy. When she was driving back, her head still throbbed and so she took two fresh pills while at a stop sign.

Once she got home, she parked her car in the driveway. Leaning her head against the seat, she sighed and bit back a groan, feeling oddly unsteady. Buffy opened her door and shivered, getting dizzy after standing straight. Closing it, she walked up her front steps. She dropped her keys on the welcome mat that didn't say anything, and it took her longer than she thought it should to open her own front door.

She carried the aspirin inside and tossed her purse onto the little table in the hallway, pulling her arms out of her jean jacket and then grabbing a throw blanket off the couch. She wrapped it around herself and headed to bed.

Reaching the bathroom on her way, Buffy didn't realize she'd turned and knelt on the ground in front of the toilet until she was vomiting. She flushed, then sighed as her teeth chattered, and she came to the unfavorable and disgusting realization that she had the flu.

Stumbling, Buffy stood up, bumping her forehead into the toilet paper roll on her way. "Take a couple sick days, end up sick. How ironic," she muttered.

It was a quick and uncomfortable journey to her bedroom, where she finally fell asleep after throwing up twice more in a garbage can. She didn't wake until morning. Through the night she dreamt of the monster in her garden, all the while said monster stood outside her bedroom window, watching.

***

Two days later, Buffy had stopped hurling up everything she ate, her fever was gone, and the coughing had just begun. Her headaches were finished with, and she'd been through two tissue boxes already. She was getting better, although slowly, and finally felt like downing some good old Vitamin C.

When she entered her kitchen for the first time in almost forty-eight hours, Buffy couldn't help looking out the backdoor's window. She'd been thinking about the monster all throughout her flu-bug fight, and for some reason didn't question the thoughts.

They were not surrounded by questions and fear, or even worry. She just thought about him, almost casually, like he was somebody she sort of missed.

But that was crazy.

Buffy squinted at the sunlight streaming inside and looked at the tree. Empty of his presence, the ground was covered in browning magnolia petals and she bet the air smelt of rain.

She wrapped her white silky robe tighter around herself and opened the door, stepping out onto the deck, her slippers formed against the damp, mossy wood beneath her feet. Her lungs welcomed the fresh air, her eyes took in the bright green color of the grass and the blue above her head.

Something was missing.

Buffy frowned to the sunlight and went back inside. She poured herself a glass of juice, stuck two bread slices in the toaster, and went through her mail. She called in to work and explained that she was getting over the flu. Willow Rosenberg was a bit of a health nut sometimes, and told Buffy to take another week off.

Buffy couldn't decide whether she wanted to be home or working at her desk, and that had never happened before since she'd started this job. She enjoyed it, liked to keep busy, and more importantly she was good at what she did.

But something was making her want to stay home, something besides being as sick as a dog the last couple nights.

Reading the paper over breakfast, alone in her living room, Buffy jolted when the phone rang.

She leaned over and picked up the ringing device from the coffee table. "Hello?"

"Buffy? Hi again, it's Willow."

"Oh." They'd just talked an hour ago. "Hey. What's going on?"

"I need to ask you a favor."

"Shoot."

"I need you to host a dinner party at your house for an important new client. I'd do it myself, but Oz and I are having some remodeling done at home."

Buffy frowned. Remodeling? That seemed a little odd and out of character, but hey, maybe the boss lady wanted a change. She shrugged, and Willow continued.

"I'll be there along with Oz, and obviously, the client, too. It'd be planned for this upcoming weekend."

Buffy chewed her lip. "Alright," she said, "so long as you don't mind takeout for dinner. I'm not a terrible cook, but you don't want to witness strung out-Buffy, which is what happens when I'm in charge of a big meal."

"Oh yeah?"

"You should've seen me when I hosted Thanksgiving last year."

"Alright," Willow laughed, "wouldn't want that to happen. How do you like Chinese?"

"Love it. You think the client will be happy with it?"

"I think so. He seems like a nice man, easy to please, he'll be bringing his sister along, too. They want to sell off some of their father's things."

"Let me guess, they were left a fortune's worth of art in the will, and they have no appreciation for Monet."

"Nothing as big as that. I think everyone would appreciate a Monet."

"You'd be surprised."

"You're probably right. But anyway, no paintings. And they have proof that their father told them they could sell anything of his they wanted to after he died, not that it would really matter considering the artifacts are theirs now, but-"

Buffy's ears perked up. "Artifacts?"

"Yep." A new note like giddiness entered Willow's voice. "Their dad loved Egyptian history, and spending his money on everything from books about the ancient pharaohs, to things that were actually owned by the ancient pharaohs. This is a big account we could land."

The art expert inside her reared it's official, perfectionist head, and Buffy said, "I'll cook."

"But Buffy-"

"No. They want an intimate dinner setting, so I'll dig out the old oven mitts and work my cook-y magic."

"I hope you meant 'cook-y' as in actual cooking and not the dessert, because we can't expect our guests to be well-fed on just chocolate chips and dough, though the prospect is appealing."

Buffy laughed. "I promise I will have every one of the major food groups."

"You're my favorite employee. Have I mentioned that?"

Buffy grinned before fighting back a cough. It fought back and she quickly took a swallow of her orange juice, and then Willow reprimanded her, in that concerned mothering voice she sometimes used.

"Get off the phone with me, and get some sleep," her boss said. "Don't come back to work until next Monday, and rest up for this weekend."

"Will do." Buffy sighed.

"I'll call you about the time later in the week. Bye now."

"See you Friday, Willow."

She hung up with a beep, and set the phone face down on the table. The day's early sun was peeking through tree branches, meeting window glass and angles in her living room, creating shapes out of shadow. The hours would pass today, and Buffy would sleep through most of them.

She'd spend time flipping through random cooking magazines and Martha Stewart looking for the perfect recipes to serve come Friday. Then, she would sleep, her head pressing into throw pillows and one arm of her couch.

***

Buffy woke up around ten, her stomach empty and the moon shining bright for the dark evening's delight. She looked through her front window at the dimly lit sidewalk and street, wondering if the clock was lying to her. It felt later, but the ticking device on the wall said otherwise.

Buffy got up and walked to the kitchen. She wondered when monster-man would arrive. She was frustrated with herself for no longer being terrified of his presence, and angry for feeling almost... impatient, to see him again. She hadn't looked out her bedroom window for forty-eight hours.

It was contradictory. She wanted to see him, stalking her, no matter how crazy it was. Yet she didn't want to admit to that, so of course Buffy refused to sate any desirous urge to stare into her garden at nighttime over the last couple days.

As she walked into the kitchen, her will vanished. It had been too long, and not only was she longing but she was wondering, and all set to blow should she see his stupid fangy face.

*Why am I not freaked by the 'fangy' aspect anymore?*

She looked through the window on her backdoor, and was almost surprised when she actually managed to find the glowing eyes. This might be one of the first times he'd shown up earlier than midnight.

Before she could think too long on the idea, Buffy yanked open the door and marched onto the deck, arms crossed.

He met her instantly, rushing forward in a blur. Buffy stepped back. Startled, quickly taking in deep breaths, she looked up at him with an expression even she knew was unreadable. However, it didn't seem to matter very much, because he took his hands and framed her face with them, cradling the back of her head. Quick and to the point, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

It wouldn't have been a strange thing for anybody she actually knew to ask, but it was for this person- er, kind-of-a-person. "What?"

"You've been sick," he said matter of fact. Was that concern in his eyes?

Buffy shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Sound a bit too nasal to be 'fine,' love."

"Gee, thanks."

He sighed. "Damn it, are you alright?!"

She blinked at his harshness. "How did you know I was even sick?" she demanded.

"I sensed it," the man answered, his face telling her he might be losing patience.

"Yeah," Buffy scoffed. "Right. You probably just heard me coughing while you stood outside my bedroom all night like a creepy stalker guy."

"Don't sugar-coat, tell me how you really feel," he replied dryly, his brow flicking up.

"You're lucky I haven't offered more than just my opinion of you, buddy."

He stared straight into her eyes, still holding on. "I knew you were sick because we're connected. It's the same reason you're not afraid of me any longer when I'm little more than a stranger."

Buffy gave him a vainly sweet smile, something like lemonade without sugar. "You're right. You're a stranger, who's insane and looks like he should be living in the 80's, but hey, at least you've got this great stalking habit to keep you entertained while you daydream of the years gone by." She gasped with fake enthusiasm and wonder."Hey, I guess we are connected, because I think I just nailed your personality."

He released a growl and stepped closer, at the same time pushing her backward. Their torsos hit, his cool breath touched her cheek as he spoke. "I'm not stalking you."

"Really? What would you call standing outside a person's bedroom at night and watching them sleep? Leaving behind creepy notes and flowers? That's definitely got to be in the peeping-tom pamphlet."

"I had to do something to get you to open the bleeding door."

"Right." She tilted her head in thought, eyes narrowing. "How'd you manage to get me to do that, by the way?"

He smirked all of a sudden, raising one cocky eyebrow and immediately pissing her off. "You'd know if you'd gone and researched vampires like I told you to, love."

"Excuse me for getting sick. And not wanting to listen to the psychopath trying to stress me to death!"

"You're my mate." He suddenly glowered at her. "You want me to tell you what that is, then you take a look at the books? 'Cause I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, no matter how long you push me away."

Buffy said nothing. Instead, she glared harder, her jaw clenched and her anger rising by the second. Nothing. No fear or apprehension. She didn't know how, or why, but she knew he wasn't going to hurt her. She was sure of it now. It was like every time she saw his face, got close to him, more reassurance planted itself in her psyche. She wasn't comfortable yet, but she could feel herself situating, the familiarity becoming accepted, and it was ridiculous. Her mind and heart protested. For once they were both in total agreement with each other, but at odds with her gut.

At her long silence, the man finally let go of her head. She didn't even know his name, yet she was starting to... dare she say it... trust the maniac.

"You may as well get used to me being around," he muttered, taking a small step back in contradiction to his next words. "Because I'm staying close, and before you know it you'll wonder why you ever thought I'd try and hurt you."

He turned away from her. Buffy was so caught off guard to see him retreating that she couldn't help the question which popped out of her mouth on instinct. "What's a mate?!" she shouted.

He turned around, and Buffy knew their startled expressions must match. She had a sudden feeling of knowing him again, and understood it was because she was connected to him. A moment of blinding clarity happened that she really wished hadn't.

Why had she asked that stupid question? Her heart was beating a mile a minute now, and her brain screaming that she run back inside. Yet... her gut was telling her to stay, and get some answers.

It didn't matter. What she said had already met the air as well as his ears. He stared at her warily. He didn't seem to want to say the wrong thing, or maybe he just wasn't sure whether to respond at all. "Vampires... have them. They're sort of like soulmates, if you believe in that rot."

Buffy frowned. "Soulmates?" She'd never thought of such things.

He continued. "There are multiple mates, each another half to one another. They claim and get claimed, then spend eternity together." He took a step closer to the deck and rolled his eyes up at the moon, seemingly frustrated with words, treading carefully. "There're hardly a handful of them for each vamp, and they change. There's no 'destined' match, and more often than not they die off before they can ever find one. Most never meet. It's basically a myth at this point, some don't even believe in it."

Buffy's brow wrinkled, but somehow she was following. "Then why should I?" she couldn't help but ask.

He scoffed and smiled ironically. "Because apparently, chance loves the both of us, pet."

Buffy hugged her shoulders and swallowed, allowing herself a minute to accept his words. Some instinct told her he was simply right, and that she should ask the new question that had just popped into her mind quickly, before the moment passed. "And a vampire," she started, "can have a HUMAN mate?" Her forehead wrinkled. "What kind of sense does that make?"

His jaw clenched and she saw a vein jump in his neck; Buffy stepped back. He rose an eyebrow but didn't comment on the move, instead saying, "None, if you want my opinion. And it's even rarer than finding a fellow vampire as a mate, but somehow..." He shook his head and scoffed again. "Somehow, love, I managed to find you."

Buffy headed for her backdoor. She turned back around before entering the house. "How do you know it's me?!" she yelled, pure aggravation wading in her veins. "How can you be sure?"

"I knew it the moment I saw you," he said. "Even if I hadn't, after spending one minute talking to you I would've figured it out." The man shook his head again, seemingly baffled by his own statements. "You can feel the same thing I do here, pet. It's not one-sided."

"You have no proof of that." Her eyebrows went up as she caught on another point. "And maybe this thing- What you're feeling -will go away. If it's like you said, mates can change. Who's to say time won't alter who we are? You could leave and this would all go away."

Perhaps saying that had set him off, Buffy noted. He sped up the deck's steps and grabbed hold of her arms, bringing her close enough so their noses barely brushed. She gasped but couldn't get much else out before he said, "It's not that simple." He squinted at her, and there was something dangerous in there, sparkling and sharp-edged like blue crystal. "You see, pet, you're it for me."

"What?" Buffy asked tightly.

"Not many vamps get a human mate, I wager it's on account of the soulless part of our makeup. But once in a while, there's one unlucky bastard out there, and if their mate is human then they don't get another shot." Her eyes widened, and he only continued. "They don't have any other options. No other puzzle pieces, no switching up. It usually takes years to alter mates anyway, and you wouldn't even live long enough for that to happen." He bent his head closer so their lips nearly touched for what felt like the hundredth time. "If you had such an option. Fact is, I get one. And apparently, that's you. Sorry to barge into your perfect little life, Buffy, but you're stuck with me."

He pulled back, and smirked nastily at her frozen expression that spoke volumes. She was scared again, not of him but of what he was telling her; then she was scared because something inside her pushed her to believe him.

He spoke again. "And I'm not letting you go."

She tore away, storming inside. Staring out the window, she breathed hard and fast, and watched him turn to leave. She followed his retreating back with her eyes until he was out of sight.

Buffy ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom. She quickly grabbed a notepad and pencil.

Letters scribbled onto the paper. Things like "Vampire" and "Mate" were her main search words. She got out her laptop and immediately opened her browser, and checked the times for when the local library was open.

If anything in her life was going to change, Buffy wouldn't just be watching it happen. She would not go into this blind.

She knew something big was coming.

That man was truly a monster, and she didn't question it, she believed it and she felt it. She could tell he didn't have a pulse, his breath was cold, and she sensed him. She knew he was gone from the yard not only because she had watched him leave but because her gut was confirming it. His words didn't sound made up, they sounded true; and that fact, Buffy knew, was entirely illogical.

She stared at the light of her computer screen and typed. Then, she read. She read for hours, her head began to throb with the ticking of the clock.

Still she searched. It wasn't until the sun was rising did she find a third website that supported all he had told her. It wasn't until dawn had come and gone that Buffy finally passed out, the computer screen displaying images of monsters and words of legends that were actually fact to light her closed eyelids, as she slept sideways on the unmade bed.

Her dreams told her too many things, and in almost all of them she saw fangs.
_____________________
END NOTE'S: Please review and let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!

The following day Buffy awoke as the sun was setting. With a groan she sat up, glancing at the gold light streaming through her window. She'd forgotten to pull the curtains last night.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and let her toes touch the cold floor. Standing, she checked herself in the mirror and squinted at her messy blonde hair. She looked like something that the cat dragged in. There were circles under her eyes, yet she'd slept for hours. Her schedule was off, was that really the cause for such exhaustion?

Somehow, she didn't think so. Walking to the bathroom, her nose ran and she coughed. The virus was leaving, but putting up a protest on its way.

Buffy brushed her teeth for the first time in two days and splashed her face with cold water. Answers and questions from last night (and this early morning) sprung into her mind, talking, listing themselves like events on a business calendar. She closed her eyes tight. Her head began to feel heavy all over again.

Letting out a loud sigh, Buffy believed there had to be a way to fix this. Nothing she read had given her a way out, but there must be one.

She didn't want to be a mate to a vampire. She didn't want to be tied, eternally, to another being, especially one that wasn't human. She didn't want to be turned immortal for him either. She didn't even know the man, certainly didn't love him. All she knew was what he looked like. That, and the fact he was a monster.

More than just a monster. He was a cruel, evil, heartless thing. There had been more than just facts on "mating" researched last night. Buffy read about the monsters that took part in it, them and their habits.

Vampires didn't have souls. They liked to hurt people in every way possible. They fed off of them, killed them for sport as well as for food. They reveled in bloodshed, loved to torture... They were purely inhuman.

*But hadn't he said something about the humanity in him? Hadn't he mentioned it recognizing her? Or something?*

She shook her head. Why was a vampire, that breed of creature, one that mated for life? Sure it was a rare occurrence, but they were still built to find their "other halves," which seemed so unfit for animals like them.

Buffy pressed a hand to her aching forehead. She couldn't be connected to something like him, something so... wrong.

Resting her palms on the edge of the sink, she stared at her reflection. How would she look in ten years? Buffy wanted to know. She'd always wanted... Well, truthfully she didn't know what she wanted.

All her life, she'd expected to find happiness in the common living of a family and husband, in love and in friendship. Buffy was twenty-seven, she didn't feel like her biological clock was ticking, and never had. She was still young, and had plenty of time to find "the one" and then have a family.

She loved her job, true. It took up most of her time. But Buffy had friends, she'd had boyfriends. She lived her life and she was content. Usually, people who wanted the life she herself always suspected she'd have, stressed about getting it.

Women worried they'd run out of eggs before they found a husband to father their children, men worried about staying attractive long enough to find a wife after they were done sowing their testosterone-y wild oats. People wanted careers before they bought houses, people wanted two kids before buying a family pet. It was all generic, and set to a generally accepted schedule. First the wedding, then the babies, then the retirement, and in between a whole lot of normalcy and sex and more normalcy, adorned with money problems and hoping you'd never file for a divorce.

Buffy stared at herself. She outlined her green-hazel eyes in her mind, imagined them on a young girl or boy. She imagined herself being held around the waist by a husband's arms, or holding a baby.

She frowned and looked hard at the glass that reflected confusion, straight at her, like an obvious reveal of some sort. Her mother had always wanted her to be happy, and Buffy always expected that finding a man she loved and then perhaps having kids would bring that to her. But she never knew why she believed it.

In truth, she'd gone to college to please her mother, not because she wanted to. She ended up getting a job she loved, but it had never been her goal until she'd found it.

She enjoyed certain things, small things, and it wasn't a long list. She honestly liked going to work on Monday mornings, more than she liked daydreaming about having children someday. Hell, the last time she'd been on a date was over a year ago. Though the man had been attractive and nice, he hadn't made her heart race, or even skip a beat. Buffy refused to settle for anybody whose name was so easily forgotten.

So why did she feel like her half-planned, half-assumed future, might be setting her up for just that?

She pushed away from the washbasin and went downstairs, entering the kitchen on pounding feet. She poured a glass of water for herself and drank five big gulps, then threw open one of the windows above the sink and took a deep breath.

The air smelled of rain, though it hadn't stormed last night. That meant it probably would soon. And the dirt would turn to mud and the flowers would lose some petals, only to grow fresher, brighter ones in a week or so. The sun would dim, but tomorrow morning it would shine over a misty town.

Those were the types of things Buffy enjoyed. Going to work, the weather changes, the sunshine, a quiet house, loving friends, dancing and laughter.

She wouldn't settle for anyone else's ideals.

Buffy refused to accept others' perceptions as true, and disregard her own and what they may turn out to be. Perhaps... she didn't want what everyone else did, maybe she never had.

That being said, she would not search for it.

She would also not lay down her unknown desires just to take a chance on a monster, not when that chance could be permanent if she made a wrong choice.

He may be ready to put up a fight, but it would have to be one hell of a fight for her to consider the insanity he'd explained to her last night. She didn't want to have the casual life, but she didn't know if immortality sounded all that good either, or being linked to a complete stranger.

Buffy didn't know what her future would look like. All she knew was that her stalker was offering her something, and she would have to figure out exactly what that something was, whether she wanted it or not.

Then, try to understand why a part of her was so curious about such a mystifying future to begin with.

***

She didn't realize fights included chicken soup.

He arrived at midnight, and in his hand he held a bag from the local grocery mart. Buffy walked out onto the back deck before she could be thralled to do so.

Yes, she'd figured that out. Mind control was no fair way to get a lady outside if you asked her. And neither was chicken soup.

"What is that?" Buffy pointed at the plastic bag he carried.

The monster smiled, all Prince Charming in leather. "Never said whether or not you were feeling better last night, so I brought-"

"I'm feeling much better." Her callous tone was followed by a cough.

The man rose an eyebrow and handed the bag off to her. "Bet you've been blowing your nose a bit, too, eh love?"

"No," she grumbled, arms crossing. "Why should I take that?" She nodded at the bag.

"'Cause you're sick. I heard chicken soup helps with that."

"Heard? What, you've never been sick?"

He quieted, then sighed. "Not for over a hundred years, no."

Buffy's eyes blinked wide before she told herself to breathe, and took the bag from his outstretched hand. "I won't eat it." She knew she was being a bitch; that was the plan.

He rolled his eyes. "Should've figured as much."

"You could have poisoned it or something, don't look at me like I'm being difficult," she argued.

"No, perish the very thought," he said dryly. Then, before she could snap at him, "If I ever tried to poison you, love, I'd be driving a stake through my own chest not long after." His brows came together and his head tilted downward a little as he made eye contact again. "Suppose you read about any of that yet?"

Buffy ignored the hope present in his voice and blinked several times. "No."

He frowned, and she sighed very deeply before saying, "Okay, yes."

He smiled suddenly. "You read about vamps?"

She scowled at him and drew back a little. "Don't get all happy over it. I was just curious... about those weird bumps on your face."

He suddenly changed for her, into a monster, his fangs popping out and his eyes turning yellow. He stepped closer, a plastic grocery bag the only thing between woman and vampire. "The bumpies frighten you, pet?"

Realizing she was staring at a demon, Buffy gulped. "No. They don't." Really surprising part? She wasn't lying, or playing with bravado.

He didn't reply for a moment or two. Instead, he stayed and watched her eyes glitter, but she couldn't possibly know that. She only knew he was hypnotized, seemingly, by her face. Buffy honestly thought he might be trying to read her mind.

"Can you really turn into a bat?"

The abrupt question broke his reverie. He shook his head. "No. Though with the right tricks I could."

"Tricks?"

"Magick. The real kind, not that rot with Harry Potthead and whatnot. I don't like to bother with the stuff, it's..." he smirked a bit, "tricky."

Buffy bit back a little laugh, and focused instead on the shockers being revealed to her, not the quips in between. "Magick is..."

He smirked more openly, grinning wide at her surprise, his white teeth bright and gleaming. "Real."

Buffy shook her head and turned around, closing her eyes and blinking hard on her way to the door. She walked into the kitchen and her monster followed, pausing at the entrance while she went to the island.

"Uh... Pet?"

Buffy set the bag of soup on the countertop and spun to face him. "What?" she sighed, and raised her arms only to drop them again at her sides. She suddenly remembered calling him a monster in her head not ten seconds ago, and her spine stiffened, because she'd called him her monster.

What the hell was going on with her?!

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and an unsettled look on his face. "Are we..." She stared. "You done speaking to me for now?" He rose both eyebrows.

She didn't answer. There was a funny feeling in her chest, like it was filled with cotton. She swallowed and took a breath. "Yeah. I'm done."

She went to close the door but he protested. "Wait..." he narrowed his eyes as a thundercloud started to roll over his expression, "You meant that."

"Yeah," Buffy said stiffly, not hiding her exhaustion. The ability she had to deal with him was depleted. "I did."

He stared into her eyes, scowling. "You're running."

"If running means getting you out of my life as quickly as possible, then yeah, I'm running."

Buffy tried to close the door again but before she could get it even halfway, he rammed the heavy flower pot between the latch and frame. "Don't shut me out," he begged, sounding more demanding than scared, but still, fear was present.

"You have no right to order me around," she said. "Now move."

He didn't budge. "You're afraid. You think I'm not?" The monster faded, and left behind was the face of a man. Pleading blue eyes bore into hers. "You can't get away from this, neither can I. We should be getting closer, not avoiding each other. That won't work."

"You," she pointed, her anger rising, "have no place in my life!"

A fierce look came into his eyes. "Bollocks."

She grit her teeth and turned away. Buffy ran her hands through her hair. "You're a vampire," she said strongly, like an oath had been taken, or a lie nobody could believe was finally spoken aloud. The following silence could have suffocated anyone else, but it barely touched the two who fought with each other now. "I am not going to be connected to a vampire."

His jaw clenched. "Too late."

"We aren't mated." She held up a hand, and started counting off fingers. "We haven't slept together, one. Two, you haven't bitten me, and three, no 'special words' have been said. No "Mine" or "Ours." Not at all! And I'm not about to say them! So NO, I am NOT connected to you-"

"But you are!" he snapped. A muscle moved near his jaw and his eyes lit up like fireballs. "All that other rot doesn't come until the end. There's nothing we can do to 'fix' our situation here- There's nothing to bloody fix! We're together, whether we like it or not!"

Buffy noticed that his fingers were biting into the wood of the doorframe. She fumed, her heart silently screaming, and not for the right things. She realized he wasn't lying. Sparks of life inside her were lighting up for him, and she felt like she was pitted against herself.

Frustration and fear bogged down on her already tense shoulders. "Move the pot," she ordered.

He shook his head in refusal.

"Move. The pot." she growled.

"No," he ground out. "You can't shut me out." When she only stared in resentful silence, he sighed long and harsh. "I know it's scary, alright?"

Buffy shook her head a little bit. Before she could speak, he was talking again.

"The first time I spotted you, I ran," he admitted. "You were out with a friend at that club in town, dancing the night away. My plans for boozing and skirt chasing were ruined the bleeding second I saw you."

"Allow me to convey my apologies," she sneered.

He ignored the sarcastic hiss and continued. "I got home and couldn't get you out of my mind. I knew you were the one, and I wanted to get the hell out of dodge before I found myself on your doorstep like some lost puppy."

She wanted to say it looked as if he'd failed, but he was quicker. "That plan didn't exactly pan out." He shook his head and looked at her pleadingly, a beggar on her porch with a tethered heart. "I realized I couldn't avoid this. Not unless I wanted to spend the rest of my days thinking about you, seeing you in every bloody chit I met. I couldn't live like that."

"Well, I can't live with you," Buffy threw in. Her voice was sharpened by things she didn't like to admit to, like a cornered animal when it growls and hisses; there is fear underlying the venom.

"And I can't live without you." He yanked the flower pot out from between the door and its frame. Buffy didn't waste time in slamming that door shut, yet on the other side, there he stood, unsurprised and determined, like a man keeping his unspoken word.

"I'm not leaving."

Okay, not so unspoken then.

"Sooner or later, Buffy, you'll have to quit running from me."

She said nothing and watched him walk away. Again, it was strange, and somewhere in the pit of her stomach, something twisted uncomfortably.

She wanted him to come back, and stay. That terrified her.

Buffy leaned her head against the door. Her heart felt lonely. Usually she was able to ignore such emotions, the ones that had a tendency to fester inside and leave voids behind, but this time they were swirling together like a tornado in her gut, ripping at things with endings that had always remained unwritten.

But he'd awakened those feelings, highlighted them and given them extra power so settling down wasn't to come. She was drawn to a stranger, and he was a monster. She was connected to him and she didn't want to be.

Should she work on wanting to be?

Her rationality protested, her heart nearly begged, for it wanted some place to rest, and her instinct... Her instinct urged her to charge outside and call him back. Somehow, she knew he would come running.

Instead, she took two sleeping pills and went to bed five minutes later, quickly drifting into a foggy, blissful oblivion.

Until the next morning, which turned into the next night, which brought him back again.
__________________________
END NOTES
Two things: One, thank you all for reading and reviewing! Please continue to leave reviews, they really help me write! *hugs*

Two, Just an fyi, I don't know if any of you readers watched Charmed, the tv show with the sister witches, but Buffy's job (as will be explained later) is basically the same as Prue Hailliwell's, when she worked at an auction house, kind of like an art specialist. She helped identify and appraise many valuable pieces, and helped set up auctions. Buffy has the same type of job in this story, and while it won't be super relevant as I won't be going too into detail with it, I thought it should be mentioned.

Thanks again for reading!

Every time she saw him as the week went on was another test of her patience. The nights were stretched, and dawn was always slow to creep along the horizon. The sun was a blessing as well as a curse. Buffy received physical pains now when he left, like her stomach had just been hit with a rock propelled from a slingshot. That, along with so much else, was driving her mad. And as the skies changed from blue, to cotton candy colors followed by dark midnight, everyday, her anger and disputes warred against unsettled craving.

Thursday night she spoke to him again. In a begging plea Buffy asked him to leave, to really stay the hell away from her. Facing the man on her back porch, wearing a sweater too hot for the California weather and a pair of cotton shorts, Buffy stared at his expression that showed not one sign of giving up.

"Just go, please." Her voice was steady and quiet, despite the feverish sensation in every nerve. "I don't want you in my life, why won't you accept that?"

"Because," he growled, "I can't. We both-"

"We can ignore it!" she shouted. "We don't have to do anything about this dumb mating... connection, we can let it go and pretend it never even existed!"

She had been doing more and more research. The discoveries, everything that came to light about vampire claims, went against her arguments. She read that separation, once meeting your mate, was impossible without severe loneliness, longing and pain. She still wanted to kick this aggravating fiend out of her life, but he wouldn't budge, and for some reason deep down, she was grateful.

Whether he knew it or not didn't seem to affect his opinions. "You stubborn twit," he said under his breath, but she heard. Sighing roughly, he seemed to count to three before continuing. "It's already happened, we can't undo it. Neither of us. There's nothing in this sodding universe that can, it's irreversible. We'll both go crazy if we-"

"If we what?" she interrupted. "If we don't finish it? 'Create a relationship'?" Buffy spoke as if such an idea was laughable. "If we don't 'claim' each other? How do you know?!"

He rubbed his hands over his face, muffling- judging by how loud it was even with his hands covering his lips- a very dramatic groan."Christ, you're driving me around the bend!"

"Oh!" she shouted indignantly. "I'm driving you crazy?! Who showed up in whose backyard and unloaded this big, weird, supernatural life change, huh?! Anne Rice wasn't all that imaginative after all, apparently, and vampires actually exist- And oh yeah, I'm connected to one of them!" Buffy made a heavy sound of disgust. "You've got a lot of nerve-"

"I have nerve?! Oh that's rich!" He rolled his eyes to the moon before pointing at her. "You're the one who's running scared! You won't even consider-"

"Running scared? I don't know you! You're a stranger to me! And you just show up on my doorstep one night and unveil this huge Stephen King lifestyle plan that I'm supposed to jump into. It's like, 'Hey Buffy, we're destined to be together and you have to let me feed on you.' Like I'm some platelet flavored popsicle or something. So excuse me for being cautious!"

He rolled his eyes, it was one of those moves that caused a back bend and a display of true exhaustion. " 'Cautious,' I could understand. You're avoiding this entirely."

She nearly punched him, she seriously wanted to, but honesty and something else prevented her.

Avoiding the other thing, Buffy recognized honesty and what it said, and she rolled her eyes at it in the way an older sibling does when they avoid listening to the unexpected wisdom of their little sister. He was correct, she was avoiding this crazy circumstance and trying to get out of it. Could you blame her?

Buffy wasn't sure. She wanted another opinion, because a huge part of her felt guilty and logic kept yelling about listening to her gut instead of her fears. Still, it wasn't time to admit that yet, and so once again she shouted at the monster in her backyard."Yes!" she exclaimed, "Because I don't want you-!" Buffy suddenly lost balance, swaying into the doorframe as her stomach churned and burning heat poured through it.

*What the hell?* She fell against the wood, cold hands wrapping around her arms in a gentle caress to help steady her. She looked up into his worried eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"My stomach..." she released a quick breath. "I think it's okay now, but... it felt, I don't know, it was like someone stuck a hot poker inside me."

He stilled abruptly. She saw. "What?" Buffy couldn't hide the nervousness in her voice.

"You're feeling the pains already?"

"Huh? Wh-What pains?"

His face showed lines of concern, which made Buffy even more anxious. He said, "It's from the claim. You're going through withdrawal."

She thought on that for a moment, then stood up a little taller. The pain was gone now, like it had never been, and she felt soothed with him standing nearer. "So that means... what, I'll feel sick for a while until I'm just, used to not seeing you anymore?"

"Wrong," he nearly growled, though something in his eyes told her he wasn't angry. It was hurt she saw within the blue instead. "It works in the opposite way. You get them as an alert. The longer you're away from your mate without finalizing the claim, the worse they get."

"So I'm getting rushed into this now. Great," she muttered. Buffy groaned and inched away from him. "So why did you call them withdrawal pains?"

"Because you feel them when your body senses I'm about to leave you, or when I'm already gone..." He shook his head. "I'd been feeling them myself but I didn't think they'd affect you this quickly."

"Why not?" Buffy said resentfully, ignoring the pang of concern she felt at the idea of him being in any kind of pain. "We're connected aren't we? It should be logical to think that whatever affects you, when it affects you, will affect me."

He ignored her spiteful tone, and brushed a stray lock of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear. "And vice versa, pet."

She looked down, trying not to focus on the warmth she'd heard in that accented voice. She caught it time and again, more often than she would like to admit. Buffy saw the way he looked at her, too, like he was staring at a precious gem that really got on his nerves for whatever reason a gem might, but was valuable to him nonetheless.

She counted her breaths while staring at the wood planks that made up the floor of her deck. If what he was saying was true, completely and without a doubt accurate, then she might actually be stuck.

Buffy didn't want to be in perpetual pain while trying to avoid him and what they supposedly shared. She also knew that seeing him just from time to time in order to prevent physical negatives would not work well.

Her mind rebelled against this dead end, this wall that had been put up. It blocked her options. It made Buffy realize that she couldn't get out of whatever it was that had them both ensnared, but instead, only avoid the trap for so long.

Her future had been dished out and set in front of her, and she didn't want it. Yet in reality, she did, just not consciously. "I don't like you," she said, vulnerability she hated to hear coming from her own mouth laced between the syllables in those words. "You're arrogant, pushy, and you're evil.

He stilled, a frown abruptly falling onto his handsome face. "How do you figure?"

"You told me to read; I did." Matter of fact yet still avoiding his eyes, she frowned as a shiver tiptoed across her shoulders and knees. "I learned about your kind. Vampires." When she said the word, he flinched, and Buffy recognized the icy tone she had used to pronounce it. "You've probably done tons of awful things."

He didn't reply, at first. Buffy heard the words repeat themselves, and noted the childish accusation she felt laid within them. Somehow she already knew, in another way besides simple deduction and the likelihood of it, that he was a killer. She knew he'd tortured victims and drained them of all their blood, while family members watched. She knew he'd done worse than anything she could ever imagine on her own. But that was the claim verifying; she wanted him to admit to it.

Another thing the claim verified, in a way she didn't even want to begin to question, was the reply he gave her. For when he did finally speak, he took a deep inhale first and let it out slowly, something like remorse shining in those too blue eyes. "You're right. But I don't hurt people anymore."

Buffy blinked her apparent surprise away fast, knowing that she should have felt more shocked, and would have if she didn't already have unseen and intangible knowledge that, against her weaker but better judgment, informed her he was not the same evil vampire he once had been.

He caught her confused look, and said, "I'm not going to lie to you, love. You're my mate, and while I still can, I don't want to."

That time, she was really caught off guard.

"I don't kill anymore. If I did... It would hurt you."

"You're immortal," Buffy said quietly, "You're evil." She ignored the burning in her gut that protested, the pounding in her brain that told her to admit she knew he wasn't like all the other vampires in the world. Because she had to know, for sure, rather than place her bets on chance. She wanted the words, so she pressed.

Buffy strode away from him and entered the safety of her kitchen, knowing that he could not enter without an invitation. "I can't be a part of that," she lied about what she knew again. "I can't... I'd rather die than let someone I'm supposedly connected to kill innocent people. I couldn't live with that."

He stepped closer, seemingly able to see the crack in her armor, despite her declarations, and fearing it might close up. "I'm telling you the truth. I haven't killed, or fed on the living, since I found you." He knew she must be giving him a line to grab, a crumb, some sort of acceptance if she was delivering ultimatums. "I can't."

Before she could ask what he meant, he continued. "Vamps with human mates can't kill people," he explained. "You need to be soulless to accomplish what I do, but being connected to you- a human, with a soul -would harm you. Severely."

Something fell into place, and an invisible breath of relief left her, cathartic to her shoulders; yet more questions arose with the rising of that weight. "Not you?" she asked, slightly confused. "It still wouldn't hurt you?"

"Hurting you, hurts me," he said fiercely, offense nearly ringing like wind chimes in the air. "I'm wired to avoid doing that at all costs."

She didn't know why it bothered her, but along with liberation Buffy suddenly felt disappointed. "You mean," she began, not able to help herself from verifying, "you wouldn't stop because I asked you to, but because you had to?"

Spike paused. His brow crinkled as he studied her, understanding trying to break through while kind consideration hung right on his face. He said, in a voice laced with gentle uncertainty, "You haven't asked me yet."

Buffy looked startled and shook her head. "I wasn't planning to."

His lips pursed and he sighed. "Well then, it doesn't matter."

"Right. It doesn't matter." She looked down. Relief coursed through her veins again, fresh and soothing. He'd given himself, them, her, an out.

"But I've stopped killing, and I'll live off of blood-bags from now on."

She looked up again and ignored the second sensation to hit her, a feeling of gratitude. "You won't have to," she said in a voice full of strain. Her arms crossed over her chest. "We aren't mated."

"We're connected, and sooner or later, we'll make it permanent."

She glared at his stern expression, knowing something she hadn't understood before.

He didn't care if she had another man in her life. He didn't expect anybody else to pose a threat, and he would steal her for himself if he had to. She felt it in her bones and saw it in his eyes. "What if I want to get married someday?"

He took it completely the wrong way and looked at her like she was crazy. To give the guy a little credit, he didn't argue with what he thought were girlish hopes and dreams, but said, "It wouldn't exactly be necessary... the claim is a stronger bond than exchanging rings and all, but if you wanted to we could..."

She cut off his awkward and hesitant offering with a wave of her hand. "Whoa, throwing up a stop sign. I mean, what if I want to get married to a human? Someone not meaning you. What if I wanted kids one day?"

He grabbed her faster than she could blink, lifting her body an inch off the floor while his stare drilled into hers, his fingers wrapped around her arms. He tugged her closer and was so near she had to lean her head back. Buffy scowled as her heart beat faster.

"Nobody else," he growled. There was possessiveness in his eyes that she had never seen directed at her before, and despite everything, a part of her warmed inside. "Besides," he said, and somehow Buffy heard him over the roaring in her ears, "you won't want anyone else now that you have me."

She breathed deeply, narrowing her eyes at his arrogance. "I thought you said love has nothing to do with a claim."

He glowered. "Love, no. Sex, yes. You won't want anybody else touching you. Just like I won't want anyone else laying a hand on me."

She stayed quiet, realizing he wasn't speaking highly of himself or trying to trick her. He was being honest, and cruelly so, because Buffy felt a door close in her mind. Though the loss was not great, it had always been nice to have pathways to follow.

She really felt she'd just signed her name to an unforeseen contract, delivering her soul into someone else's hands.

He finally set her down, but didn't let go. She felt the grip on her arms loosen as his thumbs began rubbing tiny circles into the wool covering her skin. "More to the point, I won't let any other man get near you."

"Wow, caveman much?" Buffy remarked, one eyebrow quirking.

"Oh, right. Since I don't want some pillock touching you, I'm unreasonable."

"Yeah," she said, "considering I'm not your girl to touch or defend."

"Wrong, Goldilocks," he declared, and then he was glowering again.

She wriggled out of his grip, and- Suddenly gasped. It was a frightful noise and she backed up into the island. "You're inside."

Spike looked around him and down at his big boots, the ones that looked so out of place in her neat little kitchen of white and brown. He met her eyes. "It's the claim."

"We're not mates yet!" She shouted, backing further away, putting space between them. "This whole time you've been able to come into my house?"

He nodded, holding up a hand of neutrality as his expression softened. "I never snuck in, just to clarify."

"But you're able to. You're..." She felt real fear course through her blood and this time, it wasn't welcome. She felt her own hands tremble. "I thought- I thought vampires couldn't enter without an invitation."

His brows met in the middle, true worry obvious in his eyes as he tried to calm her down. "Others can't, and won't. But since I'm your mate, or am going to be, the rules are a bit different, love. I'm not going to drain you in your sleep, so there's no need for me to be kept out."

Buffy turned around and ran her fingers through her hair, knocking the loose ponytail out. She passed a big jar of cooking utensils and grabbed the first wooden thing she saw, then faced him again with her weapon at the ready.

He just rose an eyebrow at her. "You going to stir me to death?"

She looked at her giant wooden spoon, and threw it. He dodged the flying object but that didn't even register in her frazzled brain. The clatter of the utensil hitting the tile went unheard. Anger had assaulted Buffy's senses like a harsh splash of cold water. "What is your plan?!" she shouted. "What are you trying to do to me?!"

He rolled his eyes, it was the type that required whole body movement. "I'm not going to hurt you!" He tried to reassure. Want shone clear in his expression, a need for her to understand that he offered promise and devotion. Never pain. "I would never hurt you."

"You already are!" He didn't move, not an inch, but somewhere pain swam within the blue of his eyes and glimmered like a diamond under water. Buffy only felt and noticed what she herself experienced: the sensation of decisions and choice slipping through her fingertips. "You come into my life and decide to take over- You tell me what I can and can't have-"

"You can have anything you want!" he said. "I won't ever hold you back from something you want, Buffy, I vow it."

Her teeth ground, her voice became quieter and as stiff as her spine. "Except for having a life without you, right?"

His jaw locked up and he drew back, standing straight and tall. She watched his Adam's apple bob. Hurt ran across his face and then was gone the next second. "It's the one thing I can't give you."

"So I'm stuck with you." It was a statement, not a question. Resentment weighted down her already shaky voice.

"We're stuck with each other," he clarified, more pain in his eyes that again, was quickly hidden by an expression of granite.

She placed her elbow on the countertop and rested her forehead in her palm, suddenly exhausted. Her heartbeat faltered when she heard him step closer. "Don't."

He stopped. Silence situated in the air for nearly a minute until he said, "I'm going to leave, but I'll be back in a couple days."

She wondered why days mattered, and why he wasn't coming back tomorrow, but she didn't ask. She couldn't form words with her tongue feeling so heavy. The finality of tonight's conversations and yelling had brought her to this sense of inevitability. Buffy didn't believe in the inevitable, and still, something told her that everything was going to change, one way or another. She simply had a choice in when, but not how.

"Buffy?"

"Okay," the woman replied to his earlier statement. "Go. I'll see you later."

He turned around and walked through the doorway. In the middle of closing it off, he turned his head and murmured very quietly, over his shoulder to her, "I'll be good to you."

Buffy didn't answer that, and he didn't expect her to. The monster just closed the backdoor and left the yard, disappearing into the night like a ghost, leaving his words behind like a pathetic shoulder pat. She didn't know that his heart was lighter and, though he understood that she was lost and too far away to reach, her quick "I'll see you later" comment had warmed him thoroughly. Buffy would only realize the acceptance her own words had beheld much later, when she was lying alone in bed.

She fell asleep with crumpled sheets, having the urge to cry but unable to shed even one tear. Her world was changing and she didn't truly know how, or if disaster would come. Yet her senses were all strangely calm.

Her heart, however, had never been more petrified.

________________________________
END NOTES:
Thanks so much for the reviews everyone! Please leave more, I live for the feedback :D Hope you're enjoying the story so far!

Friday dinner was turned into Sunday brunch instead.

Buffy was plenty well enough to cook and have people over as originally planned, but Willow said the clients were actually the ones to change things, and Sunday came like a snail might move through molasses. The whole weekend passed by tremendously slow, with the monster who had inhabited her life nowhere to be seen. He'd said he would be gone for a couple days. That, Buffy didn't realize, meant... more than a couple days.

She didn't miss him, of course, she simply wondered where he'd gone. Stomach aches along with dizziness bothered her from time to time now, and it was getting more and more frequent. The "withdrawal pains" were steadily- if she wanted to be honest with herself -getting worse.

The vampire was invading her thoughts too often for her comfort, as well. She read all weekend about claims and anything related, so Buffy learned more about the animals involved, too. The details of their lives and how they lived them, and of course the finer details on what was flipping her life upside down.

Apparently, emotions would be shared after they did this... thing. They'd be able to sense one another's presence. There would be blood shared and words said. He would be tied to her and she to him, and if one of them was ever hurting or physically injured, the other would feel it too, just to a lesser degree. They would be bound, and she would live as long as he, or vice versa.

It was overwhelming to think of doing this with someone whose name she didn't even know.

And she still hadn't yet accepted the reality of committing to it yet.

"Buffy?" Willow's voice rang out over the clatter of silverware and activity in the restaurant. "Buffy, don't you agree?"

She noted that tone of voice. It was the one the boss lady used when she phrased a question, but was actually making a statement. The blonde rose her eyes from her untouched bowl of salad and smiled. "I most certainly do," she said, beaming at the soon to be new clients sitting across from her. "Ms. Rosenberg always makes sure everything we keep stored at the auction house is specially handled and cared for."

That seemed to appease her boss, and Buffy might have been impressed with her own skills of multitasking had she not gone directly back to thinking about her unsettled future.

In her mind, Buffy was going around in circles, and she kept coming back to the one thing she knew she could control, the single motion she had a say in: When.

When they claimed one another, when she decided she knew this monster of hers well enough to let him- invite him -into her home, and into her bed.

Buffy grabbed the stem of her wineglass and downed a big gulp of mimosa.

That last part, wasn't sitting too well with her.

"Buffy," Willow addressed her again, something like anxiety apparent in her voice, "Mr. Finn asked you a question."

She blinked and swallowed, catching the eyes of the man sitting before her. His humble and patient expression made her feel guilty, and Buffy quickly recalled him asking if she was curious to see the collection he and his sister were bringing in for the auction house. "Oh, I can't wait!"

Enthusiasm sounded more present than it actually was.

She hadn't lied. She was looking forward to sifting through such amazing history as Egypt's, and she knew these people had quite a collection of it, but for the first time, Buffy had something else that was a lot more important on her mind.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, with a smile as big as Texas. "I'll bring some of the smaller pieces we're planning on having stored at Wingfield's into your office personally so you can appraise them."

Buffy caught something she had not before noticed. For some reason it made her feel uncomfortable, more so than a nice man being kind and showing interest in her work should have. "Great. I'm happy that you both-" she addressed his sister, too, "-have decided to put your trust in Wingfield's. We will not disappoint you."

Willow smiled but gave her a strange, very quick look of question after Buffy used her most official and encouraging salesman voice.

A sharp pain dug itself into her stomach right then, and her chest suddenly felt tight. She gasped, silent but deep, and gripped the table's edge with her fingers.

Withdrawal.

God, this was awful. Buffy closed her eyes and swallowed hard. The voices of Mr. Finn and his sister, Amelia, mixed with Willow's, and all knowledge of the conversation was lost to her. Buffy counted to ten, and still the pain remained.

It stayed until the waiter came and took her untouched salad with ranch dressing away a full minute later. It only left completely when someone else wearing a dark vest and polished shoes approached to refill her half empty glass of water. She sighed and rubbed her sweaty palms on her lap where there'd once been a linen napkin which now sat on the ground. She bent to grab it and nearly bumped her head against the table on the way back up. Riley Finn had spoken her name again.

The man was broad shouldered, with sandy hair and warm eyes. His face was wholesome and handsome, but Buffy was not floored by the smile he gave her, or by the way he asked with concern if she was feeling alright.

"I'm fine," she laughed, rubbing her stomach absently and sitting up straight. When she said nothing else and he looked unconvinced, Willow intervened before he could speak another word. "Buffy's been working very hard lately. She's probably just tired, I'll bet."

The look the redhead shot her told Buffy she'd better agree. A serene nod did the trick, and everybody relaxed, then conversation flowed again.

Amelia was sweet, her heart-shaped face and big eyes open and honest, similar to her brother's. They were sincere people, and therefore they were coming to the right place to sell their priceless collection. Wingfield's Auction House was one of the best in the state, and Willow was the most trustworthy person in the business.

Buffy looked at the clock on the wall. The meeting was nearly over. Mr. Finn and Amelia Brighton- the lady was married -came into this with their decision seemingly made. They said that they'd talked to many other auction houses, but in truth, they liked the employees and people involved at Wingfield's the best. And they would not settle for less than that. This brunch had merely been a casual way of ironing out the details and finalizing things. It was a proverbial handshake, if nothing else.

Buffy stood at the end as the goodbyes were being said. Willow set up a time for her to conference with Mr. Finn in a week and sign the needed paperwork.

"That'll be fine. Thank you, Ms. Rosenberg," he said politely.

"You won't regret working with us," she said, and took her purse from the back of her chair.

Buffy followed the group outside after the bill was paid, courtesy of Wingfield's, of course. She adjusted her tan pencil skirt while she stood beside her boss.

"Brunch was lovely," Mrs. Brighton said, "I'm sorry we couldn't make it to dinner at your home, Buffy."

"Oh, it's fine," she replied politely. "It's always nice to go out to eat."

"That's true," Mr. Finn commented, "I'm still going to offer an apology myself. The reason we cancelled on Friday was my fault. I have a friend who I'd owed a favor, and he called me Friday morning to pay the debt."

"Don't worry about it," Willow urged, "There's always time to reschedule."

"Still," he said, "If you'd ever like to host dinner at your home another time, Buffy, I'll be sure to make it."

Buffy offered only a smile and a nod, but suddenly, Willow's voice broke in again. "Oh, well, she would love to!" The redhead beamed, all friendly encouragement. "How about later this week, Buffy? Maybe Thursday?"

Before she could answer, Willow was checking with Mr. Finn and his sister to see if that would work for them. Sure enough, it did.

"Wonderful!" Willow said, her smile sweet and large. "Thursday it is, then."

Somehow, Buffy found herself nodding again. In the chaos of the moment, she was blindsided but she also knew she was stuck.

Handshakes were exchanged, Mrs. Brighton and Mr. Finn walked away and Willow turned around as she headed to her car, Buffy beside her.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" Willow replied innocently.

Buffy shook her head. "The kick and capture maneuver you just pulled on me. I mean, I don't care about hosting dinner, but I do like to be asked first."

Willow sighed. "I know... I'm sorry, Buffy. I should have warned you, I just want to impress these clients," she said. "I think they're very reliable people and this is a huge account. If you really can't do it, we can have the dinner at my place. The renovating is just about done."

Buffy shook her head, absently rubbing her stomach as she walked. "No. It's okay. Just... Next time maybe talk to me? I'll always do what you ask me to, Willow."

"I know. You're the most hardworking employee I have. That's why I know I can always depend on you. But I am sorry. I will ask you beforehand about things like this, always, from now on. I promise"

Buffy nodded, accepting the sincerity in the other woman's voice even though it came with the expression Willow sometimes used that read "Aren't I so cute and innocent, don't be mad, it'd be like being mad at a bunny."

The redhead reached her car first, and then said goodbye. Buffy was soon driving back home, making a last minute stop at the grocery store on the way to pick up some ginger ale and saltines.

***

The whole way back, she realized and wondered over her boss and the odd behavior attached to her. Willow was a friend, as well as Buffy's employer. In all the years since they'd been working together, she'd never done something like that. She had never sprung something onto Buffy just assuming she would take on the responsibility.

She wasn't upset, for this wasn't a regular occurrence, but she was slightly baffled.

Pulling into her driveway, she parked and walked up to her front door. She looked down at the untitled doormat beneath her feet.

No, Buffy did not mind hosting dinner, but she did wonder if she'd have an unwanted guest inhabiting her backyard on the same evening.

Maybe "unwanted" was too harsh a word. More like... unexpected.

Buffy sighed and shook her head. Oh well. Whatever it was she had to do, that monster of hers wasn't going to enter her house again until she said so. And Buffy would not let a single thing ruin the dinner on Thursday. Willow would cry if she did, which was like watching a puppy cry, and Buffy wouldn't stand for it.

Entering her home, she went to the magazine rack in the living room and grabbed three. She walked into the kitchen and sat down on a stool by the island, for the first time in days, she read about recipes and trivial things, rather than mating and vampires.

For an hour, anyhow.

***
How did he expect her to do this?

Buffy had researched the actual events that needed to happen with a claim. It was a mating ritual, and there was always copulation- or at least some kind of sexual deed. Buffy just had a feeling that said deed would not be done halfway. It wasn't even hinted at in the books, and online the notion was basically laughed at.

Apparently, "sexual heat" was so out of control between mates that it was virtually impossible to only do a little instead of the whole endeavor once you... started. And after the claim was finished, then forget about protecting your virtue. Once you're connected to your partner, personal space becomes an unwanted thing of the past.

Buffy groaned and let her body flop forward, smashing her face into the open pages of a book. It was the newest one she'd retrieved from the local library, surprisingly well stocked with info on demons and numerous other supernatural creatures. See: Vampires.

Buffy wished she could see her vampire. He wasn't around. Still. The man had been gone since Thursday night, and it was now Wednesday. Where could he be?

More importantly, why did she give a crap?!

"Ugh!" She sat up again and shoved the book away, lying down on the soft green comforter covering the bed. Buffy looked at the ceiling, and of course her mind went to wandering in its usual circle.

She'd been thinking on this for days now. She knew she was screwed- figuratively speaking, but she didn't want to just give up and give in.

Being from Sunnydale, Buffy had never... Well, she'd never outright believed in the supernatural. Ghosts and goblins were just stories, images conjured from movies and legends.

However, she had lived in Sunnydale.

For years, she'd seen too many people buried too close together. She'd read about too many "gangs on PCP" running around and killing. She knew that the town she called home was not... normal. She knew not to be out by herself after dark. She never walked to her car alone when the sun was down, and she always had her friends text her once they made it inside their homes safe and sound after a night of Bronze-ing.

Buffy locked her doors at night, and she avoided graveyards, except on the days when she visited her mom. It was always light outside when she did. Buffy had also long ago decided, that if she did ever have kids, she would move. She hated the thought of giving up the house and living somewhere new, but she had a sixth sense about this town that many people living in it either did not, or simply ignored.

Sunnydale was not safe. The death rates were high, especially for such a tiny town, and the high school graduating classes were always much smaller in number than the amount of freshmen who had come in four years prior. The college was the same way.

So no, Buffy hadn't believed in nightmares of this world to be anything but those walking on two legs with a heartbeat, red blooded and human. However, now she did, and it hadn't been hard to convince her that monsters- real monsters -existed. Because somehow, she'd always known.

*Maybe it's the claim,* she thought to herself. Perhaps the supernatural connection she shared with a vampire that she'd been unaware of until now, had given her an instinctual sort of knowledge. She supposed she could be grateful if that were so.

The curtains near her window flew forward with a gust. The wind was whipping around tonight, and Buffy quickly rose from her bed to look outside.

She sighed. No one. No eyes and no monster. Just the wind.

___________________
Sorry this update is so late, but thanks everyone for the reviews and for reading. I will try my hardest to get the chapters out a little faster from now on, please continue to leave feedback, it feeds the muse. *huggles*

Neapolitan spaghetti, a salad in the fridge, and a brand new bottle of wine. Buffy's house was overly warm, even with four windows open to let in fresh air the oven still managed to make the kitchen feel like a sauna.

She sighed as she opened the freezer door and a rush of iciness hit her cheeks. Inside, there was gelato and a chocolate cream pie for dessert. Closing herself off from the frost, she grabbed a fresh dishtowel and went to the sink.

Drying the dripping utensils and plates she'd washed, Buffy thought again on the question she'd been asking herself all day. It was unfortunate that she didn't know why, but obviously, she was working much harder on this dinner than she wanted to be. Pleasing Willow and the new clients was important. She did want tonight to go well. A new tablecloth sat beneath her good kitchenware on the candlelit dining room table. Her home was spotless, she'd done her best on the food, and now she was dressed up. It looked like she would make a good impression.

The issue was, Buffy knew she was trying too hard to make that good impression. She honestly didn't want to entertain her expected guests. She felt like she was pushing herself just to avoid accepting that, because ordinarily, nothing stopped Buffy Summers from doing her best when it came to anything work related.

Lifting the wet cutting board out of the dish rack, her hands moved on autopilot as she dried it. If Buffy was to be honest with herself, she could say that the reason for her deep indifference to this evening was because of a certain missing person on her back doorstep.

She couldn't get the idiot out of her head.

Buffy didn't like to consider the possibility that maybe she was missing her stupid mate, yet every moment longer he stayed away, the worse she felt. A heart wasn't supposed to race as your stomach did flips unless you were on a roller coaster or falling in love. She was sick and dizzy every other hour.

But that wasn't why she miss- Had an urge to see him. The nameless lawn ornament with fangs was on her mind all the time, and it certainly wasn't because she enjoyed thinking about the unrealistic and unbalanced future that loomed whenever he was around. Neither was it because of the physical negatives of his absence. Some other factor had Buffy looking out into her backyard every other minute, and not dwelling on whatever it was, seemed much better than dwelling. As a matter of fact, that probably had something to do with her over ambitious dinner display.

She put the final clean plate away and then hung the towel to dry, her eyes drawn to the open window above the sink.

She walked to the backdoor and stared out into the night, her gaze trained on the tree surrounded by browning flower petals and lush green grass that needed mowing. Her heart thumped steadily. She just knew he wasn't out there.

The doorbell rang and yanked her concentration back. Buffy sighed, then tore herself away from the view of the magnolia.

***

Her guests told her how delicious the meal was, laughter surrounded her like a cloud of mist, the wine poured and candles flickered over the couples' faces.

That's right. Couples.

Buffy gripped the stem of her full glass, smiling tightly at a joke that was made and then quickly forgotten.

Willow set her up. She'd set this up. Buffy was beside Riley Finn, trying not to notice the glances he kept making from her left, while Willow and her husband- informally known as "Oz" -sat across from them. It all reminded Buffy of how sneaky people could be when you allowed them the opportunity.

Mr. Finn's sister had cancelled. Buffy, of course, was not privy to this information until her boss announced it just after walking through the front door.

Buffy finally took a large gulp of the White Zin in her glass. *Devious matchmaker,* she thought to herself, giving Willow an icy side glance.

This was a date. A planned, intimate double date. She had been duped.

And God she wanted to hit something.

Reaching for her plate- and an excuse to leave the room -Buffy gathered hers, then Oz's, Willow's, and finally Mr. Finn's dirty dishes and stood up straight.

"Buffy," the man with the wide smile and big shoulders looked at her from where he sat, "would you like some help?"

"Oh no," she quickly assured, "I'm just going to put these in the kitchen and get the coffee going."

He started to stand. "I insist-"

"It's really a one person job," she interrupted. The silence that followed had her biting the inside of her cheek. "You're a guest. I wouldn't feel right making you help."

On that, she left through the swinging door that connected kitchen and dining room.

Not soon after she had scraped the dishes clean and placed them in the sink, Willow waltzed in with empty glasses.

"Now what will my date think," Buffy said distinctly, without turning around, "if I let you help me in here but won't let him leave his chair?"

Willow put the three wineglasses in the sink beside the plates. "I told him I'm not really a guest in this house, I've been here plenty of times." The redhead beamed. "So, do you think you like him?"

Buffy fought not to roll her eyes, and instead, headed towards the cabinet where she kept her coffee. Her black high heels tapped against the tile with a little extra power that went unnoticed by her meddling boss.

Buffy never answered the question. She just opened a container of Folgers and started dumping scoops into the coffeemaker.

"Buffy?"

She grit her teeth at the kindly inquiring tone before turning around. "Is there really any remodeling going on at your place?"

Willow blinked. "W-Well of course. Why wouldn't there be?"

"It's a good excuse to get this dinner set up at my house, and have me cook. Put on an interview for our new client."

"Buffy... I swear there is remodeling being done at my house, okay?" Willow promised, frowning and looking something like a disappointed puppy. "I even offered to move this dinner there. I wasn't lying about anything."

"Okay." Buffy frowned and put her hands on her hips after she closed the lid on the coffeemaker and it started to gurgle, finally facing Willow. "Then how about his sister's cancellation tonight? When did you know she wasn't coming?"

Willow rung her hands together and sighed. "Buffy I- I just wanted to-"

"Set me up. Without asking me if I wanted to be."

"I'm sorry. You just... It's been a long time since you've been out on a date and Riley really seems to like you. He thinks you're smart and attractive-"

"Well, that's nice of him, but I don't need the praise."

Willow flinched at her bitter tone. "I didn't think you'd be so mad," she said, her face scrunching up into an apologetic expression.

Buffy sighed, then took a moment to mentally shake herself. "I'm annoyed, not mad. I just-" She shrugged, and resisted stomping her foot like a five year old. "I don't like being surprised by these kinds of things."

Willow looked defeated, and with regret in her eyes, said, "Okay. I won't do it again."

"Thank you." Buffy turned around with a sigh.

"So you really don't like him?"

Her green eyes squeezed shut and she bit her tongue before a groan could leave her mouth. "No. I don't think... He's not my type."

She didn't catch the look of confusion on Willow's face. The redhead reached for a cupboard handle. "I'll get the mugs for the coffee," she offered.

"Thanks."

In a moment she was gone, and Buffy was left alone with the noise of a coffee drip. She ran a hand through her curled blonde hair, lifting it off her back to rest over her right shoulder. Hopefully tonight would come to a quick end now that she'd gotten her boss off the matchmaker train.

Buffy got the milk from the refrigerator and then grabbed the bowl of sugar she always kept on the counter. Soon, the coffee was done and she could hear the soft laughter of her guests coming from the dining room again.

Buffy ignored the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach while heading to the door. Often, with friends or in a crowd of people, she felt rather out of place, and although this was her home, those currently visiting were not the ones she was most anxious to spend time with.

The one person she had her mind on really wasn't a person at all. His absence being a distraction to her was not anyone's fault but her own.

And his. Completely his fault.

Buffy conjured up a smile as she walked into the dining room, determined to soften the edge of her bad mood a bit. She set both sugar and milk down on the table. Willow and Oz were captured in a conversation wholly their own, eyes glittering fondly at each other, while Mr. Finn smiled at Buffy the moment she approached. She managed to return it before heading back towards the kitchen.

She felt a touch on her wrist just before she pulled her fingers away from the tablecloth, and at a glance, realized Riley had gently set his hold over the top of her hand.

"Dinner was lovely, Buffy," he said graciously. "Do you think it'd be possible for us to do this again sometime?"

She fought not to yank her hand away, blinking repeatedly and trying to conjure words, any words. "Um..."

"Maybe a dinner out together, just... you and me?"

She felt guilty after hearing the nervous request, and even worse knowing what her answer would be. Buffy looked for a way out and smiled unsteadily. "I'm not sure. I-... I have to, uh, get the coffee." She left before he could stop her.

Buffy heard Oz start to speak as the door between the dining room and safety area swung shut, making this perhaps the seventh time he'd said anything at all tonight.

Buffy rubbed her forehead as she went to the counter. The man was a quiet sort, and that's how she knew he was trying to help her out just now. Oz wasn't stupid, and he was a friend. Obviously, he'd figured out that Buffy wasn't interested in Mr. Finn much faster than his wife had.

She couldn't blame Willow, she supposed, but there was a right to be annoyed. Who butted into someone's personal life this way?

*Best friends do, dummy.* Buffy frowned at herself. Reaching for the coffeepot handle, she had to admit that what Willow had tried to do wasn't the evilest thing ever. It had simply annoyed her. She just wasn't attracted to this guy. And there were many plausible, logical reasons not to ever date a client. It was unprofessional, if nothing else-

Her eyes suddenly turned to the backdoor. Buffy frowned and found herself moving closer. Was it the wind perhaps? She swore she'd heard something.

She got closer, coffee forgotten on the counter. The high, pretty sounds of her neighbor's wind chimes rang through the open window above the sink, and her feet moved faster.

She reached the backdoor on a quiet gasp, pressing her palm against the glass. All she saw was darkness out there, but something told her to stay put, look closer, and sure enough... He emerged.

Illuminated just barely by the dim light of the half hidden moon, he stood tall and familiar, dressed in all black and that long duster he seemed to never be without, blonde hair slicked back, dark brows slanted. He came closer when he spotted her, and he kept walking.

Like a gong had been struck, she remembered the people in the other room. Her heart began to beat faster, and Buffy glanced at the hot coffee sitting on the counter.

Her stomach filled with butterflies and she knew she must look frightened or anxious or a combination of the two when her monster stopped approaching. He frowned at her. Question, then worry, followed by indecision, all showed in his eyes, and Buffy realized she had to do something before he did.

Smiling too brightly, she waved at him, which only made him frown harder. Then she poised one finger up, indicating he wait just a minute.

Quickly she disappeared from the window and went to the sink to splash a little water on her forehead and chest, then grabbed the coffee and headed into the dining room.

When she walked in, all three heads turned to her.

Very quickly, she got the reactions she was hoping to get.

"Buffy, are you alright?" Willow asked worriedly, standing up just as her friend set the coffee down. "You look..."

Buffy took a shaky breath and rubbed her head, slowly dropping into the nearest chair, a frown on her features. "I... I don't know."

Willow got closer and soon Buffy was holding her stomach. "I just... suddenly got a horrible headache. I had a couple like this last week but I thought they were gone."

Riley and Oz stood up, offering their own concerns, asking if she wanted to lie down. Buffy told them she didn't want to cut the evening short, but to that, Willow protested that it was late anyhow, and she looked like she could use some rest. Managing to pull off a few more weak shudders and quiet groans of pain, it wasn't long before everyone had made it to the front door.

She let them out and said goodbye, all while massaging three fingers into one of her temples and smiling wanly. When she was closing the door, her hand falling to meet her hip, Riley pressed from the opposite side and stuck his head back inside. "Buffy?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Um, here." He handed her a little slip of paper, turning his voice into a near murmur. "This is my phone number. I- Well, if when you're feeling better, you're not too busy, I'd like you to give me a call sometime."

A little line formed between her brows. "I already have your contact information. I know where to reach you regarding anything that might come up about-"

"This isn't for business," he interjected, a tender smile on his face. "I want... I'd like to spend time with you. Outside the world of pricey Egyptian artifacts."

Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She shook her head a little to clear it. "Well, that's a tempting offer Mr. Finn but I- Well..." She sighed and cursed her twisted tongue. Looking up at the man in front of her, she couldn't decide why she wasn't interested. He was cute, tall and well built, kind and polite. He could even be funny at times. There was just... nothing there. "I'm sorry, but... I can't do that."

His face fell, and Buffy felt a stab of guilt. "Right now..." she searched for something truthful, some relatively honest explanation to soothe his ego, "there are some things going on in my life right now that are very... complicated. Things Willow and my sister don't even know about. Things that..." She sighed very heavily. "And I know this sounds like a line but it's not. I'm sorry."

He nodded solemnly. "I understand."

Buffy waited as he backed up onto the front porch again, politely trying to hide the disappointment she still saw in his eyes. "Goodnight, Ms. Summers."

"Goodnight." She held back her sympathetic expression until the door had closed between them. Guilt ridden, but thankful and relieved to be alone, Buffy headed for the kitchen.

Immediately she went to the backdoor, and upon opening it she found herself face to face with her vampire.

His familiar blue eyes looked different. Stormy, darker and angry. Buffy held in a gasp but found herself backing up. Stopping her by moving his arm around her middle, his fingers pressing into the bottom of her spine, the monster leaned in close until she was pulling away.

"What are you-"

"Who was he?"

That question was uttered much too calmly for her nerves. And yes, she realized that seemed contradictory, but there was a coolness to his voice that reminded her of a gentle wind you feel just before a tornado rips through. "He was no one."

Wrong answer. He hauled her against him then moved them both away from the door, pressing her into the side of the house. "The git gave you his number. He was someone."

She felt her anger rise. "And I told him I wasn't interested. That makes him nobody," she said.

His nostrils flared and a severe jaw clench presented itself. "You two weren't alone, I saw the redhead leave with her bloke." He tilted his head. "Seemed a bit like a double date."

"No."

"No?" he quirked a brow.

Buffy looked at his hard mouth and glittering eyes. The frustration he felt was strong but he was controlling it. She wanted to reassure him, but another part of her... the independent, resistant part of her, wanted to push him away. "He is a new client. I work at Wingfield's Auction house and Mr. Finn and his sister are bringing in a new account. This was a business dinner."

"Awfully cozy for a business dinner, pet." He refrained from spitting out the oaf's name like sour milk. *Mr. Finn? Sounds like a bleeding Disney character.*

"Why are you accusing me?" She argued. "I didn't do anything wrong, I'm not interested in him. This was just a dinner my boss made me host." She didn't understand herself. One minute she wanted to see him react like a jealous boyfriend just so she could tell him that he had no right to do so. The next? She was reassuring him that she wasn't interested in someone else.

"There's one thing I've figured out about you," he said plainly, "No one can make you do anything."

She glared at him. "My boss wanted me to have an intimate dinner at my home. I wasn't going to say no."

"Right." The vampire took a short step away. "So, where was his sister tonight then?"

Buffy scowled. "She had to cancel."

"Mighty convenient."

"Will you back off?!" she finally yelled. "This wasn't a date!"

He moved in closer again, leaning forward until their noses just about touched. "I know it wasn't, because that would make you a single lady." He reached for her, and Buffy stilled as his fingers twined around the edges of her hair.

He watched the golden strands twist and move in his hand, pressing and then squeezing them. He'd never seen her hair look like this before, while it was always eye-catching, tonight she had styled it into curls. It shined and the beauty of it was highlighted to those who wouldn't normally bother to notice. She was wearing something different; a dress and sexy little heels that had him thinking impure thoughts. Her lips looked pinker and her eyes were defined. His mate was beautiful, stunning, and she looked damn good all dolled up or just wearing sweats and a tank top.

Another man had seen her this way tonight, and had been equally impressed. For a moment, Spike felt gratefulness for having seen her at her most relaxed and casual when others had not. Yet the reassurance still did not stay long enough for him to forget that she'd welcomed a man inside her home tonight who wanted something from her she could not give.

Not if Spike had anything to say about it, at least. And he always, always would. "Goldilocks, you're not a single lady. You're taken- Or at least, you will be, but until then I don't plan on letting any preppy young boys with wandering hands get near you."

He watched her eyes narrow, and barely had time to recognize the little spark of fondness he felt at realizing he was going to get a glimpse of her fire tonight, before she was yelling at him. "There were no wandering hands- But even if there were, who gets 'near me' is none of your business!"

"Wrong," he growled.

"No! Right. I am completely right here, okay Dracula?" He winced at the name, and it only fueled her. "I'm not your girlfriend, your wife, or even dating you for that matter. You show up on my doorstep when you feel like it, keep me up late and ruin my business dinners! You and I are not-"

He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pressed against her. Buffy suddenly felt a fire seep into her skin, something foreign yet similar to things she'd felt in the past, coiling through her gut. He whispered in her ear, "We are. And you can't do anything about it, baby."

That snide, know-it-all tone of his made her want to hurt him. "I still have Riley's number."

He met her eyes and all of a sudden she felt both serenely calm and incredibly scared. Who knew such a combination existed? That glow in his inhuman gaze made her want to run while the grip of his fingers on her bare arms kept her in place, and not because he was holding on like a lifeline.

Before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers, consuming them in a kiss like he was trying to steal the breath he didn't need. One of his hands delved into her hair as he pressed her entire body against his.

A mind numbing shock hit, followed by lust and then anger and more lust. She couldn't push him back because although a huge part of her told her that she should, Buffy found out what having a mate meant when it came to the physical aspects. She realized her hands were moving up, but one went only as far as he would allow it, for the clutch on her arm did not loosen. The hand he had in her hair tightened. He had her right up against him, from knees to chest and everywhere in between.

His mouth opened first. He glided the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips. He tickled and pressed, and finally she gave in. He tasted like cold whiskey, gentle at first then suddenly hot and burning. She heard herself whimper, and before she knew it, Buffy was too lost to care anymore that he was pushing her lips painfully against her teeth.

Her left leg rose a little higher to allow him room to get nearer. His hips rolled into hers, grinding and wrinkling her dress. All softness vanished like the quarter in a coin trick. He growled and her heart skipped a beat. It was already racing but he seemed to jumpstart her pulse rate when the hand on her arm moved to her face, framing her jaw as their mouths moved together, ravenous and intense. He tilted his head and dove in deeper, licking the insides of her cheeks and behind her teeth.

Buffy's fingers dug into the leather encasing his arms. She started pulling, yanking at the material until his shoulders were uncovered except for a T-shirt, and she ran her hands beneath his sleeves to touch his skin.

He pulled away to give her the air she hadn't realized she needed. His breath hit her lips and gave her chills. She felt his fingers contract in the fist of hair he held, but he didn't pull or yank. "Buffy..." He nipped at her trembling mouth before she looked into his eyes. "There is something here," he said hoarsely, placing one hand over her rapidly beating heart. "Here."

She shuddered, but then he pulled back and put his palm over his own heart. "And here."

Buffy swallowed hard. She understood. She felt the something he spoke of, the emotion... The whatever it was. "The co-connection- The claim-" she stuttered, grasping for an explanation.

"No. I feel that," he cut her off. "I feel this, too," he said gruffly, before diving in again. Kissing her hard and with greed, tongues twining together, Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. *Please, no. Don't let this be...*

The spark grew brighter until it became a flame, and then it burned and burned, and it never went out. They both felt it, one reveling, the other scared of its light. The passion had sparked, and they grabbed at each other, writhing together against a wall as craving simmered in their veins.

There was something more between them, something not every couple on earth gets to have. A connection, a chemistry. Want and desire, need, and plain old simple comfort. They could do this, they fit.

It had nothing to do with the claim, it was their own.

Buffy pulled back at the same moment he did. His arms were now around her waist, and there was little more than clothes between them. Buffy rested her forehead against his when she noticed her toes were off the ground. "I don't even know your name," she said dumbly.

He offered a tender smile. "Spike."

"Spike?" She blurted, regaining a smidge of awareness.

He rose an eyebrow. "Knew you'd have something to say about this."

"I knew a dog once named Spike."

"And I have never, in all my years, ever known anybody named Buffy, so let's not throw stones, pet."

She scowled. "It's a funny name."

"Far be it from me to argue with you."

"I meant yours! Not mine."

Spike rolled his eyes and set her down. "Well, it isn't my birth name."

She frowned, but fought off her curiosity. "Really? Hmm."

He tilted his head. "You want to know my given name, Goldilocks?"

She firmed her lips and didn't respond, just looked at her feet.

"It's William."

Her head snapped up, and then she saw vulnerability on his face. He'd just shared something important with her. Buffy took a second to wrap her mind around that...

Spike blinked his eyes open wide when she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. It was a gentle caress, nearly a whisper, but when she pulled away and said, "I like that name," he thought he might finally have gotten an answer to the question he'd been worrying over for the past few weeks.

Could he fall in love with this woman?

"I could also..." she sighed and shrugged her shoulders, looking up at him with her green eyes and warmth he'd never been on the receiving end of before. "I could also get used to Spike."

He swallowed hard. *Already falling, mate.*

____________________________________
Hey everyone, thank you so so much for the reviews and for reading, I'm really enjoying writing this fic and I hope you're all liking it so far! Please continue to leave reviews, as I've said before they help inspire me, and let me know what you thought of this chapter. (: *hugs!*

Over the next week, they had nightly meetings, and Spike would typically arrive around eleven thirty. Their shared future was finally the main topic of conversation, rather than arguing over whether or not it was going to happen at all.

They tried to sort through numerous concerns- mainly Buffy's -and all of the life changes the claim might bring. Along with those, she fairly demanded to know more about his past.

Buffy's guess was that it wasn't good. Spike didn't talk about the cruel monster he used to be and today suppressed, unless she asked. The little she did understand could be figured for no other reason than all the reading she'd done on vampires.

When she did want to hear details, take it all in a little better, Spike would answer to her curiosity, but it made him uncomfortable to do so. He never left anything out or beat around the bush, but instead was brutally honest, and while Buffy should be grateful, his past still bothered her.

However, on a very selfish level, knowing he stopped doing awful things because of her made everything a little easier to accept. And she couldn't go back in time and change anything, and neither could he, so she mollified any disgust with the logical point that it was what he did now in life, that mattered. It may sound self-centered and ignorant, and maybe it was, but Buffy had enough concerns lately and maintaining a moral high ground wasn't on the list of things that would help her in any way.

On a lighter note, in between those not so pretty pictures he painted, Buffy found that she was perfectly able to listen to the mundane stories and private anecdotes about Spike. She knew that he liked spicy foods and watching TV, even playing video games. Sarcastic on the regular, and strong willed, he enjoyed referring to her by any name he could think of that wasn't actually her name.

He could get Buffy's temper going with as little as one word. Lately, it seemed he was always baiting her, too, and obviously she didn't know why. Upon reflection though, she realized that Spike and her typically started fighting right before they ended up doing... something else.

Kissing. Not just a peck on the cheek or lips gently brushing, but hot, memorable encounters. Kisses that got her blood going, kisses no respectable couple would ever display out in public, filled with rough tenderness that too many people in this world lived without.

The intimacy between them must have rooted at some point when Buffy wasn't looking.

She found herself missing him. Every weekday when she was at work she thought about Spike in between authenticating pieces and making arrangements for upcoming auctions.

He was fast becoming the most exciting part of her daily routine. And with each kiss and each encounter, it got harder to let him go when sleep called her name. Fridays and Saturdays were the two nights Buffy's head didn't hit the pillows until nearly four in the morning, and she wanted less sleep just to spend that time with him, and come Monday she yearned for the work week to hurry and finish itself up.

Everything was changing, and an easier, more comfortable relationship began to root.

The claim was pushing them together, that was for sure, but it wasn't alone in its struggle. Feelings unrelated to that connection were present, and driving them closer.

Buffy had more or less accepted the situation, and every time they spoke she and Spike discussed how their lives might work. How they would be together.

But with the way their feelings were progressing, nothing seemed to pose that large of a problem.

The biggest concern at the moment was controlling libido. The desire to get closer, to be intimate and do more than just kiss, had both Spike and Buffy nearly ready to tear their own hair out, as well as each other's.

Spike was all for the fast moving. He wanted his mate. The demon in him demanded it, and to further frustrate his patience, he was finding himself getting more and more attached to Buffy Summers. It wasn't the claim or his instincts, it was the heart inside him.

Buffy was lovely, funny, beautiful, warm and supportive of her family. The woman was stubborn and could argue with him until the sun came up- not an easy feat, mind you. She did this little thing with her hair that he liked, and just looking at her lips when she talked got him halfway to breaking the zipper on his Levi's. Then whenever she got mad, he could see every ounce of the being she was through her eyes, the fighter inside.

He was enchanted, which was something that hadn't happened in a long time. Being head over heels for anyone was basically an alien concept nowadays, but Spike quickly found that it was becoming familiar once again.

Buffy, on the other hand, while seeming to warm up to him, wasn't as crazy about the idea of them sleeping together in the same bed just yet. She wanted to wait. Oh, Spike understood, of course, and had told her he would give her as much time as needed, but that was something akin to torture- for the both of them.

He often wondered if she was starting to experience the same feelings as he was, but there wasn't any way to know without asking her, and Spike wasn't about to do that.

***

Buffy stepped onto the deck at half past eleven, ready and waiting. It was Friday night again, and she'd been going through her weekly routine of leaving for work each morning, then coming home and reading until it was time to meet Spike outside.

She wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at the hidden moon. The darkness of the yard was like a cloak, a fence between the rest of the world and where the magnolia tree roots stretched. A rustle of leaves whispered in the air, and then wind chimes jingled next door like a doorbell announcing a visitor.

She greeted Spike with a smile as he came into view. "Hi," she said softly, dropping her arms at her sides. Her hair was down, he noticed. Spike loved it when she left it loose to drape around her shoulders, allowing the wind to play with the ends. He loved running his fingers through it when they kissed, loved tugging on it to get her to bare her throat for him.

"Hello, love." Leaning against the doorjamb, he smirked a little as he looked her up and down. "Nice nightgown."

Buffy threw a glance at her bare legs, then pulled self-consciously at the hem of her oversized T-shirt. "It isn't a nightgown," she groused.

Spike rose an eyebrow. "Really? So why are you wearing it to bed?"

"It's my favorite sleeping shirt."

"Yours?"

"Uh, yeah," Buffy said with a frown. "Whose else would it be?"

He got this look in his eye, a thoughtful and somewhat bothered expression. "Old boyfriend's?"

It was easy to detect the jealousy in his voice. She saw his lowered head and wandering gaze. True pleasure went through her, and not for the first time, a shiver coursed down her spine. His possessiveness was something he had no shame in, had no qualms about admitting to. She supposed the claim might make him feel vindicated, but something honestly covetous lay in his eyes, without any shadow of responsibility. And it was all beginning to bother Buffy less and less, which was the very unnerving part of it.

Shuffling her feet and tugging at the shirt again, she suddenly felt underdressed, which did manage to shake up some nerves. "Not an old boyfriend's," she muttered.

He didn't look fully convinced, though his shoulders did lower with a barely audible sigh of relief. "Well, you've got nice legs, love."

Buffy felt her cheeks heat up. She couldn't remember why she wore this shirt tonight. She'd just opened her drawer to find something comfy to sleep in, and then there it was. The weather was warm, so that could explain it, and might be a logical reason why she didn't at least put on shorts, too, even knowing Spike would be coming by. She'd worn something similar on the first night she had confronted the stranger lurking in her backyard, but that was before fear got drained out of her veins and kisses were shared between the two of them.

The idea that perhaps she wanted to tempt him went through her head, and Buffy's subconscious was nearly agreeing with it, so she tugged harder at the hem of her plain gray T and said, "I should go change."

Spike frowned and grabbed her hand before she could leave. "No, don't." At her wary, hesitant look, he smiled gently. "I won't say anything about your thighs again."

She quirked her lips and rested against the open doorway, nerves settling at his reassurance. "So, how was your day?" she asked, then her brows met in the middle. "Or I guess evening."

"I woke up late, grabbed some food, then came here," Spike answered with a little smile.

"You grabbed food?" she asked.

"From the hospital, had to restock."

"Ah. Right."

Spike almost chuckled at her now familiar nose-wrinkle. "So..." he tilted his head, pressing his lips together, "have you thought on what we talked about?"

She frowned. "We've talked about a lot of things."

"The thing that nearly caused you to break my eardrums on Tuesday."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Oh." *Yeah, THAT.* She stepped about an inch back and frowned down at the floor. "Yeah... I've tried to..."

"Been avoiding the topic?" he supplied.

She sighed. "Maybe."

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "It's a reasonable plan."

"I..." she toed at the boards that made up the deck. "It's... Spike, I can't have you living in my house."

He sighed. "It's not going to be right away."

"I know, but-"

"Buffy," he shook his head and moved a step closer; he had a look in his eye that silenced her. "I'm going barmy. Every time I leave you, it gets harder. My fangs are starting to itch in my gums." She flinched, and Spike didn't pause, though his expression softened. "I know you're feeling the separation, too, and if you don't want to make this permanent right away, then we have to compromise. Me moving in with you would make it better. I'm not going to bite you, and it'd be easier on us. We'd get a chance to-"

"To get know each other. Yeah, I get it." Buffy rubbed a hand over her eyes as she squeezed them shut. "But I... I'm not ready for-"

Suddenly, there was loud knocking at the front of the house; they both scowled and stared in that direction.

Buffy went to answer the door, and he grabbed her wrist. "I'm coming with."

"Why?"

"Who's going to be showing up this late?"

She bit her bottom lip. This situation did have the uncanny resemblance to the beginning of a horror movie, and she was with one member of the undead already. Buffy looked at Spike's concerned face, recognized that he didn't think she was expecting anyone special, and nodded. She let him follow and heard the backdoor shut as she exited the kitchen.

Upon reaching the front hall, Buffy felt her pulse skip a beat. Maybe Spike had just wigged her out, but suddenly she found herself wondering who could possibly need her attention at this hour.

The idea that it might be Dawn in need of urgent sisterly support was what got Buffy to yank the door open before Spike even cleared the dining room. The blonde woman who stood on the front porch was anything but expected.

However, she was incredibly welcome.

"Darla!" Buffy lunged at her friend with open arms, smiling at the sound of her familiar laughter. Buffy noticed the bags in the woman's arms, quickly deduced the obvious, then grinned from ear to ear. "You're staying! For how long this time?"

Darla, beautiful, funny, deviously creative, and loving to all those she considered friends, was the childhood pal Buffy had known since preschool. They'd stayed in touch after college when Darla finally moved out of the town she'd always thought too small for her. Before that, there had been thousands of sleepovers, and high school drama endured side by side. They were family. The bond they shared went deep and couldn't be cut even without months of communication. Darla sent postcards to Buffy from nearly everywhere she went, the lady loved to travel, but no matter how far she got, she knew she could always come home.

And for the fourth time since moving out of Sunnydale, she had.

Darla let Buffy take her shoulder satchel and then strolled through the doorway. "If you have room for me, I was thinking about three weeks. I'm sorry I didn't call, it was rather-"

Buffy bent to set the bag down, and the one Darla was holding dropped beside it, almost brushing her head on the way up. Buffy stood straight and colors rushed around her. She was suddenly face to face with a tense, leather covered back. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a growl, one that did not emanate from the vampire blocking her view.

"Spike!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

Before she got her answer, another question was asked. Buffy heard Darla from the other side of Spike's solid frame. "Buffy... What is he doing in your house?"

She'd never heard her friend speak to her quite like that before. Buffy moved to the side to be able to see again, and a shielding hand came to rest on her stomach. She glanced up at Spike with a scowl, but her eyes went cartoon style after laying sights on Darla.

The woman she'd known her entire life, the person she called her best friend... had fangs.

*Oh God.* "D-Darla?" she stuttered.

Spike was in game face, as tense as an ironing board. Frozen and alert, his eyes never strayed from the threat in the room. "Buffy, did you know your friend here was-"

"No," she swore breathlessly. "Darla... How- How did you-"

Before she could finish her shaky sentence, Spike had moved fast, and was hauling Darla outside- Or at least, he was trying to. She bit and growled, throwing and landing a punch square to his abdomen before he tossed her on the pavement.

Buffy's hand went to her stomach while her nerves worked to twist it into knots. Spike bolted down the steps as Darla shot up from the ground and stepped back. The sounds of growling pierced the air. For all the shocks going through her system right now, Buffy was astonished she wasn't lighting up like a Christmas tree.

It was hard to catch her breath. She thought she'd gotten punched in the stomach, and knowing that Spike was the one who'd really felt Darla's hit made anger flare inside of her. She fought it off, knowing it was a result of their connection, and focused on the foreign emotion of being afraid of her best friend. She started to tremble. "Darla- When did you-"

"Buffy, who is this?" she interrupted, her words slurring over her fangs as she stared at Spike with eyes of amber hued gold.

He interjected. "How did you get into the house?"

"I've known Buffy for years, I've had an invitation here since before and after I was turned."

Spike's hands clenched at his sides. "But she didn't know about you being dead, did she now?"

Buffy frowned sadly and tried to ask again, "Darla, wh-when did this happen?"

Finally breaking eye contact with Spike, Darla looked up, and foreign vulnerability showed itself in her unfamiliar eyes. "It happened before I left town, Buffy. Right after graduation. I couldn't hurt you and I didn't know how not to yet, so I... I left. I came back when I knew that... I could control myself around humans."

Buffy shook her head, remembering to breathe. "You've been..." She frowned harder, and swallowed. "You've been dead since we graduated college?"

Darla's lips turned down. "Yes."

Buffy's arms crossed, and she took a deep, silent breath. "Is that why you stayed away so long?"

"Partly," Darla said, "I always had to get out of Sunnydale. You knew that."

Buffy tried to wrap her mind around the idea that she had driven her friend away. She looked down and allowed logic to reassure her that is wasn't her fault, not really, but the guilt remained. She looked up and said, "I would have understood, I would have known then and I-"

"I didn't want you to be scared. I didn't want to hurt you. I couldn't. I needed you to be safe, and it was a year before I had control over all of my..." she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sighed, "impulses."

Spike rose one eyebrow very high, and said, "You're telling me you've been a vampire now for... years, and you've had free access to my mate's home the entire time, but you've never tried to hurt her?"

Too many things went through his head at that moment. His protective instincts kept telling him to tear off this Darla bint's head, or at least cast a dis-invite spell over Buffy's house. The idea that she'd been vulnerable to another vampire for so long unnerved him. Yet his mate was alive and breathing. Plus, Buffy had not invited the woman inside tonight. Darla had no problem stepping through the doorway all on her own, so that meant she'd been able to do so for quite a while.

Darla didn't answer his question, and she didn't have to, for they all knew the answer. She'd learned to control the bloodthirsty side of herself in order to protect a friend, so she wasn't typical, as vampires went. But Darla couldn't think past one word Spike had uttered just now, because her unbeating heart felt like it had dropped into her stomach. "Your... mate?" she exclaimed.

Buffy fidgeted before taking a step down, and Spike threw up his hand as if to stay her without even turning around. She only scowled, then moved down another step. "I trust her, Spike. She hasn't killed me yet, I don't think she's going to suddenly go for my throat."

"Bloody right," he said softly, nearly too quiet for Buffy to catch. "She ain't staying here, pet."

"Wait!" Darla shouted, planting one heeled boot far away from the other and cocking her hip. Her vamp face receded, but the anger in her human eyes glinted menacingly. "You two are mated?"

Buffy shook her head, almost laughing at the way she'd said the word with such disbelief. "No, we're..." She looked at Spike to see if he would elaborate, but all he did was raise his dark eyebrows expectantly and wait to hear what would come out of her mouth. Buffy swallowed. "We're going to be."

She didn't noticed the gleam of satisfaction that flashed in Spike's eyes, but Darla did. Her mouth fell open, and she moved unconsciously towards her friend.

Spike blocked her path and Darla rolled her eyes, firming her lips.

"Spike, I can trust her," Buffy repeated, and moved closer to him to place her hand on his shoulder. "We can trust her."

Even as she said the words, her heartbeat sped and then went skipping over itself again. She knew, deep down, that Darla cared about her, soulless vampire or not. The fact Buffy hadn't known she was a vampire until tonight scared her witless, of course, but she was trusting her gut. She wouldn't allow herself to be frightened of her best friend.

Besides, Spike was watchful and protective, and while she knew that putting her safety in his hands was probably naive, he was simply a backup to the very big 'IF' regarding Darla. It was another one of those gut things.

The she-vamp put her hands on her hips and looked at Spike, then at Buffy again. A defying expression came over her face. "How'd you find her?"

Buffy frowned in puzzlement. Spike answered. "Just spotted her one night. It felt like something had knocked me over the head."

"How flattering," Buffy muttered.

Spike rolled his eyes, then Darla spoke up again before he could rephrase himself. "And you've... accepted this?" she asked her friend.

Buffy looked her in the eyes, and nodded very slowly. "Only recently. It's something that..." She sighed, searching for the right words, "I can't change it, and I know that. At first..."

"At first you probably tried to toss him out of your life like yesterday's trash," Darla said, and Buffy had to smile a little at how well the woman knew her. "But not anymore?"

Spike had to grit his teeth from answering that one. *Of course 'not anymore' you halfwit! She's accepted this, don't scare her off.*

"No," Buffy replied, much to Spike's relief. "Not anymore, Darla."

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END NOTES: Hey all, I know this update is pretty late since the last one, and I apologize. It was very hard to get this chapter out and there was a lot of rewriting, plus I've been lacking in ideas and my muse JUST decided to get off her lazy butt. The reviews you've left so far have made me so happy and I really, really appreciate them, so thank you! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you thought. I will work my hardest to get the next chapter out sooner, I've already started it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: My reviewers are amazing, you guys make me smile and inspire me to write and I just wanted to give a shout out to all of you. I have gotten very into this story and I hope I am pulling everyone reading in along with me. Thank you ALL for reading and paying this fic any attention at all, it truly humbles me.
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Buffy pulled a pair of cotton pajama pants over her legs. Standing in her bedroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror, she sighed. "How did you get yourself into this?"

Turning around, she headed back downstairs to the tense party awaiting her.

There were two vampires in her kitchen; both testy, both refusing to leave. Buffy decided she had too many individuals of the fangy variety under her roof. She wondered, as she descended the steps much slower than she normally would, if they could hear each movement she made, every creak beneath her toes.

When she had whispered, a room away and finally alone for the first time this evening, that she "had too many vampires in her simple nine to five life," both Darla and Spike- still sitting in the kitchen -had shouted: "Heard that!"

Buffy took a deep breath before entering the dining room and walking to the swinging door. After getting Darla back inside, it seemed there was an immediate dilemma: Where would everyone sleep?

Actually, this dilemma came after the argument concerning which vampire was allowed to spend the night, and which one wasn't. Spike refused to let Darla stay if he had to leave; Darla didn't want to be far away from her friend if Spike was close.

Neither of them seemed too concerned with the fact it was Buffy's house.

She wanted to argue with them, especially Spike. Darla was a longtime friend, and always welcome here; he certainly couldn't push her out. It should have angered Buffy more that he wanted to, but logic told her he was being protective. Her heart was willing to allow that.

She hadn't known of Darla's vampire status until tonight. If she had, then she might not understand Spike's hesitancy- rather, his refusal, to leave her alone with another vampire in the house. However, such was not the case.

Darla, of course, was no easier to deal with. She didn't know Spike either, and while it seemed strange that he would hurt Buffy now after having so many opportunities and passing those up, the she-vamp still wasn't leaving.

She had no real proof they were mates. Other than Spike's avowal- His were promises Darla would not be trusting anytime soon -and Buffy's agreement, there was no clue as to whether or not they were truly connected in any sort of way. She certainly couldn't take Buffy's word for it; her friend might feel a pull to Spike, but she was human, and was no expert on supernatural bonds.

Hell, neither was Darla, but that was beside the point.

Buffy entered the kitchen, and found the two vampires staring one another down like angry cats. "You know, if you keep it up your faces are going to freeze that way."

They turned towards her, Spike almost managing a smile when he saw Buffy standing there with crossed arms, an "I'm so tired of this shit" look on her pretty face. She could be awfully cute when she was pissed off, along with intimidating. How she managed the combination, Spike would never know. "Well pet," he said, "might do both of us some good if you'd declare who'll be welcome in your house tonight."

"Yes," Darla said, "and if it's both of us, don't expect me to share a room with him. If he really is your mate, then-"

"I am," Spike growled.

Darla continued without pause. "-it would be even more awkward." She looked at Spike with eyes like daggers. "Especially since I'd end up killing him before morning."

Spike scoffed.

Buffy ignored the unpleasant feeling that shivered through her at Darla's threat, even knowing it (probably) wasn't serious, and covered the discomfort with an eye roll. "Spike, you'll get the couch. Darla, you the guest room."

Her mate broke his glaring contest with the other vamp. "I want to be on the same floor as you, pet. Even if I have to prop the wall up all night."

She bit back a groan and cut him off. "Fine. Then the hallway to my bedroom is all yours. Will you be needing a pillow?"

He frowned and grumbled, "If you've got one."

Buffy then turned towards Darla and said, "You can open the windows in your room if you get too hot, I put the screens back in, so you won't have to worry about bugs."

She smiled almost shyly, which was an unusual expression for the lady. "Temperature doesn't really affect me anymore, but thanks."

Buffy nodded, and then the silence in the room quickly became thick and suffocating. Darla stood up suddenly, glancing between the human and Spike. "I'm going to bring my bags upstairs... Buffy," she stared at her evenly, "will you be okay down here?"

She almost sighed but managed to hold it in. "Yeah."

Darla went to leave, and threw an icy backward glance at Spike on the way out the door, not sure if she was doing something smart by leaving them alone. She assuaged any fears with the decision to listen intently in the front hall before actually going up to her room. Besides, she could still hear her friend's heartbeat from nearly anywhere in the house.

Once she was gone, Buffy slowly approached the island and sat in the place Darla had vacated. She stared at Spike, managing to avoid his eyes. She chewed her lower lip and that's when he spoke up.

"Looks like I'm moving in a little earlier than expected."

Buffy almost scowled at him, but managed to prevent it. He was smirking at her, and that was irritating , but she couldn't deny he was right. Besides, unless Darla's undead status hadn't been revealed, Spike would not be sleeping here. "It's only one night, Spike."

He rose one dark eyebrow. "You really think that pet, then you're off your rocker."

She did scowl then. "I don't think Darla will hurt me."

"But you're not sure." She didn't respond, and Spike took the opportunity to make his point. "That's why you're not shouting at me to get the hell out of here, and we both know it, ducks. You trust her, but you're unsure, and that's smart. You know damn well I'm not going to do anything to you, and you also know this isn't just for one night."

She exhaled and put her hands flat on the countertop. "Spike, I don't know if you will hurt me or not. The only thing I know is that I don't like the idea of you getting hurt, and I hope the feeling is mutual." He didn't respond to that, but she didn't see the look on his face either. "You've had so many chances to hurt me, but you haven't taken one of them, so I trust you. Sort of."

He was quiet for a moment, and then murmured, "But not enough just yet." He understood. She was making a point. Buffy wasn't ready to let him in right now, and he was only getting a free pass because of strange circumstances. She could never let him inhabit her home without some more time passing for them.

Buffy shook her head. "That's not it, Spike." Those four words managed to make his heart lighter and hope bloom inside. "I do trust you, and it's strange because I barely know-... Well, I mean I know you, but I haven't known you for very long. But I'm just not ready..." She sighed. She really hated using words to describe her feelings so much, and her voice lowered to barely a whisper. "Letting you move in with me is a big step."

She had never lived with anyone besides her family before, except for in college, but that was it. The few boyfriends she had known in the past never got to be that serious. She may have loved a couple of them, but her relationships just hadn't progressed to such a point.

Spike was determined to make it there.

Buffy's eyes flashed up to meet his when he brought a gentle hand to her cheek. He froze when she looked at him, as if unable to remember what he'd been about to say. Then, something moved behind his eyes, and it was warm, like his voice rubbing against her suddenly raw nerves. "Buffy, I won't hurt you. Physically I can't, neither do I want to. The other way... Well, I'm going to try my hardest to never do that either. I can't guarantee I'll succeed, but... I'm never leaving. I can't, and even if I could I'm not bloody wired to when I care about someone. I just..." He shrugged tightly. "I'm selfish. I don't let go of the things I want."

She might have heard it as a threat if he hadn't said the words in that heated, unsure voice. She also wasn't sure how it made her feel better, but it did. "So, you're saying I can't get rid of you basically?"

He sighed, then a crooked smile appeared on his lips. "I don't give up easily."

Buffy tentatively wrapped her fingers around the wrist of the cool hand still touching her face. She missed his intake of breath, and said, "I have a cot upstairs in a room that used to be my sister's. It might be more comfortable than the hallway."

His gaze twinkled and he nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." But in her head, Buffy said: *Thanks for staying.*

***

"How did you know Spike wasn't planning on killing me?"

Darla finished folding her clothes, turning at Buffy's abrupt question. She had a little line between her eyebrows, but then it smoothed out and she shrugged. "I didn't. That is, until he acted like protecting you from me was the chief thing on his mind." She ran a brush through her blonde hair, then set it down before walking to the bed Buffy had just finished making up. "I kind of figured that you knew he was a vampire once he showed his fangs, and you still just managed to stare at my," she waved a hand towards her cheek, "pretty, bumpy face."

Buffy made a silent "O" shape with her lips. Spike was waiting outside the bedroom for her. She looked at the familiar walls. This used to be her bedroom when she was a teenager, then after her mom died and Dawn moved out, she took the master bedroom, turning this into a guest.

Darla stretched out on the old mattress, under a thin sheet, and smiled at her friend in a way that was old and knowing. "Why do you trust him?"

She wasn't surprised by the question. After heading back upstairs to settle everyone in for the night, Buffy realized just how tired she was. The two vamps might be wide awake right now but she didn't care, she just wanted her bed.

When Darla had risen her brows in surprise after Buffy showed Spike the cot he would sleep on, she knew there would be a couple more questions to answer.

She didn't quite know how to answer this one, though. "I... I feel like I can. At first I didn't, but now it's... it's different. I'm trusting my gut."

Darla frowned. "Your gut is telling you to trust a stranger who also happens to be dead?"

"Living dead," she argued weakly.

Darla shrugged her shoulders. "True."

Buffy looked down at her feet. She was obviously naive in this whole crazy situation. She barely knew Spike, but she knew him. Something in her recognized him, and she felt it every time she saw his face. She was getting used to the reaction. However, to outsiders it sounded nuts; even, she was sure, to the vampire sitting before her right now. "He's had a lot of chances to hurt me, Darla. I just don't think he wants to, or that he will."

Buffy almost let out a huge sigh of relief when her friend said, "I guess I'll trust your gut, too, then."

Darla rolled over on her side and rested her blonde head against a soft white pillow. "But don't expect me to trust him completely, Buffy. Not yet."

The woman nodded, grateful beyond words that her friend didn't think she was a moron. Darla was also looking at Spike with an open mind, and Buffy couldn't help wonder if that might be because Darla was obviously not your typical vamp. She didn't see things in black and white, never had, and apparently that trait had carried over with her through death.

She walked to the door and hit the light switch, staring at her old friend with a doubtful expression. "Are you actually going to be able to sleep right now?"

Darla laughed softly against the sheet. "No, but I'll lie awake until I do. Once the sun starts rising I'll get tired." She met Buffy's eyes in the dark. "Don't worry about me. I've been trying to adjust to a less vampire-esque schedule because I was planning to visit you. I'll be fine."

Buffy began closing the door when suddenly, a thought popped into her head. "Is that why the last few times you were here you wouldn't leave your bedroom until the sun was going down?"

Darla grinned. "Jet lag is a useful little thing to blame when you're allergic to sunlight."

Buffy scoffed a laughed. "Goodnight, Darla."

"Night, Buffy."

Upon shutting the bedroom door, she turned and found Spike leaning against the railing, his coat folded over one forearm. His T-shirt, black and fitted, showed off his muscles and sinewy build. Buffy couldn't help but think that his chest looked as hard as cement through the material. She swallowed and tried to stop focusing on the fact she had never seen him without his leather duster on before. "Do you think you'll be okay with only one pillow?" she asked.

He blinked at her. "One's fine."

She nodded. "Good. And blankets?"

He smiled softly. "The sheet will do fine, pet."

Buffy nodded quickly. "Okay. Good." She headed towards the bathroom and then stopped. "Uh, do vamps use the bathroom?"

Spike shook his head.

"Oh. Well, it's here," she waved at the open door, "if you need it for any reason..." Her voice trailed away, and she was left feeling strangely out of place and awkward. "Uh, I don't know if you can sleep this early but I'm planning to hit the hay." That was a lie. Suddenly, Buffy wasn't tired. As a matter of fact, she felt wired, jittery almost.

Spike sensed it, too, but he didn't comment on the fib. Instead, he offered something to calm her. "Oh, alright then," he shrugged, "I was thinking you'd like to..." Nerves, stupid pointless nerves suddenly cascaded down his back like spiders. He cleared his throat.

"Yes?" she prompted.

He called himself a ninny in his head. "I was wondering if you'd want to share a cup of hot cocoa with me before bed?"

Buffy stared at him, and Spike added, "Or tea, or milk. I don't know, I'm just not sleepy at this time and I thought it might..." He continued staring at her frozen, unreadable expression and just sighed. "Oh forget it, goodnight."

He headed for his room, and when he got there he tossed his duster over a pile of boxes as tall as his stomach and shut the door before letting out a quiet groan.

What kind of idiot was he? He'd sounded pathetic and needy back there! All he'd had to do was shrug and spout something smooth, calm, as if he didn't want her company. If he'd said he was thirsty and wanted to get something to maybe help him sleep, Buffy would have probably offered to come with him, seeing as he didn't know where anything was in her kitchen.

Bloody hell, he'd never felt so much like a blushing, stumbling schoolboy in his unlife! Before that, with Cecily fucking Underwood back when he'd been human, that was beyond embarrassing sure, but this was running a close second.

He made a disgusted sound. "Fucking lovely, now I can relive that memory."

Just then, the door opened a crack, and a faint light streamed into the room. Buffy's small hand reached in and turned on the overhead, and she said, "Spike? I um... I can't sleep either right now, so if you wanted hot chocolate or something... I have it. Downstairs." She rolled her eyes at herself. "Obviously. No one keeps hot chocolate in their pajama pockets."

Spike nearly smiled at her reddened face, all open and kind. She was almost stammering, and now she awaited his answer, and any embarrassment he had felt just moments ago quickly faded to nothing. "Sounds good," he said, and stood to follow her.

Buffy lead him down the staircase in the shadowy dim light. They reached the kitchen and she switched on the light, going directly for one of the cabinets. Spike saw an assortment of things when she opened it, like coffee, several flavors of tea you would never catch him drinking, and one box of Swiss Miss, beside a clear container of what looked like cocoa powder.

Spike frowned when she reached for the clear container and then shut the cabinet door. When Buffy turned around, she found him sitting at the island.

"My mom used to make her own hot cocoa. I like using the recipe when I'm not too impatient for some chocolate-y goodness," she smiled. "Even though it is summertime, I think I'm in the mood for it."

Spike found her utterly adorable as she went to reopen the cabinet, and frowned at him worriedly over her shoulder. "You did want hot chocolate right? I have Swiss Miss too, or other stuff." She peered up at her selection. "Tea?"

Spike fought off a grin and said, "I think I want to try this special Summers cocoa. I'm not impatient." *Rather uncharacteristic, that,* he thought wryly.

Buffy shut the door and turned to open another kitchen cabinet. She grabbed a plastic bottle from the second shelf that was filled with baking goods like corn starch, baking soda, flour, and several containers of Hershey's unsweetened cocoa powder.

Buffy started talking as she worked, going to the fridge to get the milk, and then searching for a little measuring glass. "So, how's your stomach?"

Spike frowned as she flitted about, pouring and mixing things. "How's that?"

"Darla..." Buffy trailed off as she set a little pot on the stove. "She hit you, right before you kicked her outside."

Spike barely remembered, but then he recalled the small instant when he'd been hauling Darla outside, only to get punched in the gut for his troubles. At the time it had hurt, sure, but it was nothing important enough for him to dwell on. "I'm fine, love," he said. Realizing that Buffy was worried about him, his eyes softened on her form. It might be just the claim, probably was, but Spike still felt happiness at the idea of her caring at all. "Just a small hit, nothing to get worked up over."

Buffy turned around fast. "I wasn't. I was just... I was just checking to make sure."

Her cover up did nothing to affect his feelings, and Spike smiled tenderly at her. "Well, thanks for caring enough to check."

Buffy frowned and turned back around. They didn't say another word until she finished with the hot cocoa, and sat down beside him, two steaming mugs in her hands.

Spike took one gratefully, watching her lips push forward as she blew away the heat rising from her own cup. Those lips could distract him in the middle of gore filled battle even if she was standing twenty feet away, he was sure of it.

"Spike?" Her voice shook his thoughts easily, and the vamp found himself smiling at her as she frowned down at her hot cocoa. "I have a question."

She paused. He waited.

"I know this thing is... real. At least, I believe it is." She met his eyes briefly. "I mean, I can feel you, and you haven't killed me yet so I don't think you're lying about having the same weirdo connection to me."

Spike put his mug down and gripped her arm, gently, but the look in his eyes was intense and they kept Buffy still just as surely as his fingers holding her. "I am not going to kill you."

She nodded, still staring into the blue of his heartfelt eyes. They almost always looked that way when he stared at her, or was trying to get her to see something or believe him. Only when he was angry did they flash like canon fire, and even then, Buffy wasn't all too sure he aimed at her. "I haven't thought you would try for a while now." Probably since the first kiss, in all honesty, but she didn't want to say that. "But you can thrall me. You talked about magick. How do I know that what I feel, what maybe the both of us feel, isn't fake or manufactured?"

"It's not."

"How do we know? How can we be sure? For all your strength and vampire savvy, you could be under a spell, too. If spells-"

He cut her off with a kiss. It was light, soft, nothing like anything they'd really tried before. Her fingers slipped away from the warm mug of hot chocolate, rising slowly. Her eyes closed, and she felt his hand touch her cheek, sliding back into her hair.

He came forward and then she was moved, repositioned, but she didn't think too much about that. She felt his other hand wrap around her ribs, touching her back, and somewhere in her thoughtless awareness Buffy understood his message. *No spell could forge this...*

Even if one could, where on earth would the magick come from? Surely not him, a vampire. What kind of evil vamp would tie himself to a human? What kind of anything cared enough to do this to them? The answer was no one. Just fate. Or chance or whatever. The fact was that somewhere in both of their lives, they had become fit for one another, like puzzle pieces. It was only luck they had found each other in a dusty little deadly town in California.
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END NOTES: Please review! *hugs*

Buffy woke up, alone in bed, the breeze from her open window like a whisper on her skin. She pulled her comforter up to her chin as she turned her back on the sunlight. About two minutes went by, and she lived in the state between sleep and wakefulness, before reality returned and her eyes shot open.

Awareness. That was the right word. Aware of the two other... inhabitants in her house, aware of their undead characteristics. Aware that they may or may not be sleeping, but surely hiding from the sunshine either way, and much more determinedly than Buffy herself was right now. Aware of the last thing she had done with one of them before going to bed.

She sighed, breath fluffing out the white sheet she'd yanked over her face. Sitting up, Buffy let the blankets drop. Swinging her heavy legs over the side of the bed, she checked the clock. Ten in the morning. Well, that was earlier than usual for a weekend, but on the bright side maybe she could get a little alone time before her guests awoke. Given, she probably could have slept at least six more hours before that happened.

Buffy went to the bathroom. She brushed her hair, then her teeth, rummaging around in her closet for something comfortable to put on before she started applying a little makeup to her freshly washed face.

She didn't have any plans for today, though often enough Faith would call in the late afternoon on Saturdays to see if Buffy wanted to go out, but tonight probably wouldn't turn into a dance filled memory. Not with two vampires under her roof.

She took a last look in the mirror, and mentally approved the white shorts and light blue halter. It was a very summery ensemble, with her long blonde hair covering her back, she felt comfortable and not too revealing.

She opened the curtains wider to allow fresh air into the room and left, bare feet padding into the dead quiet of the hallway. When she saw the door to Dawn's old room, she felt something like soap bubbles popping in her stomach.

Buffy gulped and went to check in on Darla. She saw that her friend was asleep. At least, she appeared to be. The curtains were drawn and it seemed the window had been shut, but that was fine. Darla looked content, and no sunlight drew close.

Buffy quietly shut the door. Then, her eyes were drawn to the other one again. She looked down at herself, and decided that the little flutter she'd gotten in her heart when picking out her clothes a few minutes ago had to have been imaginary. True, Buffy considered this one of her lucky tops, for every time she wore it she got plenty of male attention. And yes, the shorts showed off her legs very nicely, but it was hot out. Besides, what vampire liked pastels? Spike was probably more likely to drool over something in red and black, not this.

Yet, there was a chance...

Buffy rolled her eyes and refused to go and change, instead heading downstairs to make coffee, which sounded like a less obsessive and much more rewarding plan.

After she had filled a mug with the brew Dolly Parton once called "ambition," Buffy found herself thinking over things that made her seek out the solitude of the backyard, contemplation clear on her face.

This garden was like a sanctuary. Filled with perennial plants, beautiful hydrangea and bright green creeping vines, sweet herbs, shrubs of evergreen, the magnolia tree. Every flower and leaf was healthy, eye-catching, the fences around enclosing it all.

She always felt like this garden of her mother's was a peaceful place. Joyce had planted everything; she had been the one with the green thumb in the family, but Buffy learned, too. She learned enough to keep the garden up. It wasn't precise, there was always some overgrowth, but the yard had a certain energy about it that might be due to its untidiness.

Of course, her schedule wasn't all that busy, but she did like her job. She liked hanging out with Faith and being carefree on the weekends, she liked talking and going out to lunch with her sister, and watching crappy television programs. Buffy had a simple, day to day, easygoing life, and excitement in it was minimal.

She frowned at that thought. Until now.

She couldn't decide if there was a part of herself that was grateful for the change of tune Spike was bringing to her life, and so Buffy didn't examine the idea too closely. Instead, her mind wondered over last night's hot cocoa... kiss.

It had been pure heat, that kiss, but still soft. Like a candle flame is hot yet contained. It was something warm and tender, and still branded with a message.

This thing between them, this claim, was real. She didn't want to imagine what it would be like once they were "properly" linked, after the sex and words that were supposed to happen, she figured any image or feeling she could conjure would only fall short.

It's like when you imagine a scenario in your head, because you're going someplace new or trying something out for the first time, and you have all the time in the world it seems to guess what it's going to be like. Then, no matter what it was, you find out that you were wrong; every time. The experience is completely different from anything you'd dreamt up, sometimes worse, sometimes better. Buffy didn't want to be wrong this time, or worry about it, so she shut her mind off to thinking about how things could be with Spike once they were linked to each other.

God, the very idea of being attached to someone else made her shudder. It was terrifying to her. Buffy Summers kept her heart thoroughly protected most of the time, as she was immediately vulnerable when she loved someone.

She wasn't even sure she would fall in love with Spike, but she knew that she could. That, scared her, but she also couldn't be connected to someone for eternity knowing that love wouldn't be a part of the deal. It was frightening, the concept of loving someone wholeheartedly; yet just as scary, the idea of not receiving such love.

Buffy took a large gulp of her coffee, letting it burn the insides of her cheeks before swallowing and sending the heat down through her throat. She had to do this. She knew that. Buffy was able to admit that a part of her wanted it, too, completely separate from anything to do with the claim or her almost instant attraction to the vampire. She honestly... just kind of liked him.

All of that arrogance. He was a bad boy fantasy for teenage girls and women everywhere who'd ever gawked at a James Dean poster, but he was real. A man who actually had a heart- no soul, but not the point here -and he wasn't an abandoner. He didn't give up. Spike was so many things, he bugged her and made her nerves hum. He wanted her, made her know it. He was honest.

She did like him.

Buffy muttered some choice words to herself. She had a crush on a vampire. What was her life? Seriously, this was not a fantasy novel, but someone out there seemed to like the idea of weaving her reality into one.

She thought about their last kiss again. After she'd pulled back from him, she'd found herself sitting on his lap. They must have looked like some sweet, sappy couple in a movie, but only for a moment. Buffy had quickly stood back on her own two feet and then taken a big swallow of the scalding hot cocoa, before tossing the rest down the sink.

Spike brought his drink up to his room, following her when she told him she was tired again. She wasn't tired, of course, and he knew that. However, Buffy needed the space and to not be feeling Spike's body against hers.

Her skin had raised goose bumps and heat had begun seeping through her system, all from that kiss. Suddenly, distance became imperative if she was going to remain un-claimed for any continued portion of the night.

Nothing like... that spark, had ever touched her before. Either the connection was getting stronger, more insistent, or her feelings were.

Buffy sat down on the wooden steps, absently watching a bird move around in the grass. Her heart was already hammering, and every time she relived the tender moment with her vampire, every time she recognized Spike as her vampire, her vision clouded and the world melted away.

She was screwed.

Buffy had lain down in bed after they separated for the evening, and wished she hadn't washed the taste of him out of her mouth with hot chocolate before practically bolting from the kitchen. It didn't compare, and she'd only been trying to savor some dignity... somehow. She was a moron. His lips were so much better than chocolate.

She craved him. That had never happened before. Not to her.

Buffy wanted to bang her forehead against the nearest wall. *How do I accept the fact I'm attached to a man who might never love me?*

Buffy drained her coffee cup, then looked at the magnolia where he had first appeared and still always did. Spike was tall and strong, like that tree, but much, much darker. He had so much life in him that it was strange to know otherwise. The man was a beacon of vitality, smirks and jovial energy, with emotions as intense as tidal waves. His eyes could make you feel like you were melting.

He was so intense. He was the one.

*I am SO screwed.*

***

Spike awoke to a dark room. Unfamiliar scents, and then more common ones like dust and stale air settled around him. He inhaled greedily, for underneath the dry aromas lay a much sweeter one, an invigorating perfume.

His mate.

He was in Buffy's house. He turned on his side in the old cot he'd called his bed last night, groaning quietly.

It had to be just after sunset. Yeah, that felt right. Spike stretched as he stood up, grimacing at the feel of slept in denim. He'd removed his T-shirt and shoes, but the jeans had been left on. It wasn't out of any kind of feeling of embarrassment, mind you, he simply didn't like the idea of scaring his twitchy little mate just when he was getting closer to her.

Spike smiled as he thought of Buffy. He bent to put on his Docs and let the images from last night wander through his mind. It was like a favorite story. That moment in the kitchen they'd shared... He knew she was coming around, and quickly, to the notion of being tied to him.

His undead heart seemed alive again from the contemplation. She could make a vamp smile, that was for damn sure, and Spike felt like a lovesick boy.

Her kiss was scorching, but he'd already known that. What Spike hadn't known until last night, was how lovely vulnerability could taste when someone you cared about, someone who was special, trusted you to accept theirs. Buffy was not shy, but she was cautious, and careful with her heart. He understood that all too well. If you did not guard yourself in this world, you could get hurt, even shattered.

Yet Buffy was starting to let her guard down, and for him. Even after she had skittered away like a scared rabbit upon realizing she was sitting in his lap, Spike could still only see the good points of last night.

They'd talked a little, she'd let him stay in order to make sure she was safe, and then she had kissed him.

Alright, she had let him kiss her, but she had fallen into it right with him. He'd never believed her to be anything but a lover. It was branded within her, the ability to make a man tremble and die a little in rapture, only to come begging back for more. She was a goddess of this century, a Venus among men.

Last night, he'd gotten to taste the sweeter side of the siren. The devoting yet cautious girl, the eager student and tender teacher, the woman who was so careful with her heart. The human who was his mate. She was an anomaly on this earth. A fire too tempting not to let himself burn.

Spike stood again and threw his shirt on before heading for the door. He needed to see her. After last night, he knew that she would come to him soon. She would accept this, the inevitable crossroads they were coming to, and then she would walk with him. They were to go together. He would never let her go once she allowed him the privilege of holding her, even if it was just her hand to start.

Spike was already in this, claim aside. His heart was possessed and his feet threaded to her shadow. He would follow the woman to the ends of the earth.

The speed at which he found it all happening scared the living shit out of him. Spike was no fool, perhaps a lovesick fool but no other kind. He was love's bitch, and that was a truth he had long ago admitted to himself.

He just hadn't allowed love to wrap a leash around his neck since last getting charred and broken. However, if fate gave you no other options, and there was a promise of forever, and running was suddenly futile... Well, Spike just had to accept things then, didn't he?

Though he knew that was a load of bull. So would anyone that had ever met him. He didn't follow the rules, or let something like "destiny" fuck with his unlife. He was his own vamp, through and through, didn't cater to a single bloody person or creature.

Until now.

Spike walked downstairs silently. He didn't do anything in this world that he didn't want to. Buffy was a choice. Even if part of their relationship was fate bound, he could have fought and walked away.

Could have, but didn't.

Spike wanted her. He had from the moment he saw her dancing. And he still did, and he was wanting her more and more with every passing second he spent with the chit.

And after last night...

Spike quickly ran back up the stairs, grabbed the empty mug he'd left on the ground beside the cot, then went downstairs again. All he heard as he headed for the kitchen was the sound of one heartbeat, a soothing tempo. Buffy was the only one up, the Darla bint must still be down for the count.

He walked through the swinging door and Buffy immediately caught his eye. She was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, though, for a mere moment. Spike's stomach seized.

All cute, startled, then it faded, and she smiled softly at him, and he relaxed. "Good evening." A note of amusement entered her voice that he was sure could be blamed on the fact his morning equated to her night. That was something Spike was sure would change; after they mated, both their sleeping schedules would very likely be screwed.

He didn't mind. He'd try and be an early afternoon riser at least, for her, if it made things a bit easier. "Evening, pet," he said, before setting the mug he held down on the island. When he stepped up to her side, her heartbeat sped and he forced back a grin. Skittish, she was, but delectably his all the same.

And she leaned into him after only a few seconds hesitation, which lead Spike to hope harder and relax even further. "What are you making here?"

"I'm following my mom's chicken soup recipe. It's Darla's favorite, and even if she doesn't exactly need human food to... well, survive, I thought she might like it." Buffy gave the pot another stir before placing a lid on it. "We had it the last time she was in town."

Spike nodded, watching her shrug her slender shoulders. After Buffy turned around to face him, he saw the little blue halter top she had on, and the lengths of her bare legs, only her upper thighs were covered by tiny white shorts.

His mind was easily distracted by the ensemble, but Buffy went about her business oblivious to his attention. She swung around and walked away from him, her long hair curling around a shoulder. He got a peek at her bare back, and gulped.

The woman's body was beautiful. All of that smooth skin, her golden wealth of hair, long legs and swaying hips. She was a picture. Petite, soft and warm, with gentle curves all around. His fingers twitched at his sides as he watched her stand on tiptoes to reach for a container of cornstarch that was high on a shelf, her shirt riding up to reveal the arc of her lower back.

Yet every lustful thought paled, almost vanished, when she turned to him with her warm eyes of green and smiled again. "Would you like some?"

*You have no idea.* But she couldn't have meant that. Spike frowned. "Some what?"

"Soup."

"Oh, right. Sure."

She nodded and then went back to the stove again, adding ingredients and stirring the boiling pot. "It will be ready soon, maybe ten minutes."

He said nothing, just watched and waited for her to place the lid back where it belonged. When she pulled away from the stove and headed to the sink, he let her rinse her hands before coming up behind her. Spike's arms went on either side of her, blocking her in. She tensed and turned around, frowning into his eyes, a question there.

Spike leaned in and kissed her, like before. Soft, unrushed, tender. He could be so damn tender with this woman. She brought out things in him that the demon snarled at and cowered away from. Nothing made his baser instincts flinch more than human emotion, and yet still, somewhere deep inside the demon was resigned, because this woman was its mate. Even for a vampire, gentleness could be permitted when it came to her.

Except the sweetness evaporated like steam after several seconds. Time started to drift away from them altogether. Buffy stood up on her tiptoes and softened her body against him. She pressed into his chest, and Spike wished he had skipped putting his back shirt on.

He wanted to feel her skin and heat without fabric in between, but that would have to be later. He was impatient, but she was settling in. Spike might be ready and willing for her, all of her, but she was only just accepting the idea. Letting him touch her with abandon was more than simple acceptance, but he would need to let her set the pace. He didn't intend to scare her off by going too fast.

When she hopped up on the edge of the counter and spread her legs, yanking him to stand between them, Spike was confident the wait wouldn't be long.

And if it was, she was worth it.

Buffy moaned in the back of her throat, pulling away reluctantly for breath. Spike's mouth travelled down her chin, then the skin on her neck, finally stopping at her collarbone to nibble and lick. She tugged him closer before finally capturing his lips once again with her own.

He was in her veins, and that was crazy, but the more they kissed, the worse it got. Buffy just wanted to hold him and love him and feel this kind of heat always, but she was terrified her wishing would cause her nothing but heartache.

Buffy sucked on his tongue and bit his bottom lip, hard, conjuring a growl from Spike. "You're waving red in front of a bull, love."

His warning did nothing to her. She'd never wanted someone this badly, and Buffy knew part of it must be the claim, but that would have surely caused their lust to be strong from the beginning. Either it was getting more demanding, wanting the connection to be completed already, or her feelings were running high, gaining weight and depth.

He was in her heart, and she had no way to get him out. Even her fears refused to make her separate from him now. She craved him, wanted his fingers dancing along her naked spine, his hands bruising her thighs.

Buffy pulled away with a gasp. Spike stared into her eyes with fire and lust, greed. She'd never been looked at like that before. It invigorated her. Her shuddering sighs touched his open lips and Spike just waited, patiently, for her to decide the next move. It seemed like he could hear her thoughts.

Hesitancy would have lost to lust if the spell hadn't been abruptly broken. Darla walked into the kitchen and rolled her eyes before uttering a very disgusted exclamation. "Oh for the love of-! Would have appreciated a little warning, ya know."

Buffy froze, then quickly hopped off the counter as blood returned to her brain. Stepping away from Spike who backed up very unwillingly as she made her way back to the stove, her cheeks were as red as the fire in her gut. Buffy only swallowed and looked at Darla. "We didn't wake you up, did we?"

If she had said anything, anything at all, that was maybe a little less insinuating, Buffy wouldn't have wanted to crawl into a hole. However, the words were out there, and Darla was raising one eyebrow just as Spike was smirking at the floor. "No," the she-vamp said, "but given a few more minutes, I think I might have woken up to moans and groans."

"Probably would've been more than just that, pet," Spike joked. Buffy really did just want to get a shovel and head for the backyard.

Instead, she simply swallowed her embarrassment, and said, "The soup is done. Darla, I- I hope you still... eat it."

Her friend's eyes lit up with sudden appreciation, and the tease and slight disdain she'd held in them only a moment before quickly faded. "You made soup?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure, with your new blood diet and all, if you still liked it, but-"

"No, I do." She assured, quickly going to find a bowl to fill. "Thanks."

Spike followed suit, and before Buffy knew it, there they were again. Two vampires sitting across from each other, nearly glaring as they ate a hot meal neither one needed for sustenance. Buffy wanted to sit down and be oblivious to the sense of weird in the room, but she couldn't manage to detach herself from the reality that was her life.

Spike kept glancing at her from beneath his lashes, and told her how good his needless food was; Darla complimented next.

"Blood."

They both blinked. Darla frowned hard and turned to face her. "What... about blood...?"

Buffy swallowed. "You guys. You'll need blood, right?" When they didn't answer her, irritation rose, and she felt immensely awkward. "I figure since both of you are too stubborn to let me stay a night in the same house with a vamp that isn't one of yourselves, and neither of you trust each other, we'll all be bunking down here for a while. Believe me when I tell you that I was not ready to house people of the undead variety, so someone needs to get blood."

Both of them shuffled nervously in their seats, not missing the ire in her voice. Darla took another spoonful of soup and said, "I was going to pick some up for myself once the sun went down." She glanced at Buffy over her shoulder. "There's this guy who always gives me a discount on his stuff."

Spike scowled over the counter. "Human blood, or animal?"

"Human," she purred, looking decidedly smug all of a sudden. "Real cheap, leftover from a hospital about an hour out of town. He orders it special for his customers, but when I buy from him, I get a markdown."

"Why would the wanker cut someone who ain't a regular, a deal?" Spike questioned.

She smiled and took another bite of soup, crunching on a carrot. "He likes me."

Spike scoffed. "Bleeding typical."

Buffy crossed her arms, digesting the fact this conversation was actually happening, and in her kitchen no less, then shook her head. "Can you get extra?" Did she really say that?

Darla looked at her a little strangely, but nodded. "Yeah. No problem."

Spike smiled, and looked over at Buffy. She was red in the face, and her pulse was skipping over itself. She felt out of place, strange for asking about blood like it was a typical item you'd put on a grocery list.

And she was asking for him.

***

Buffy found herself alone in the kitchen again after Darla left. The vampire walked out the front door and into the night not long ago, and she'd left under the certainty that Buffy would keep near the phone.

"I don't expect him to hurt you anymore," Darla had admitted, "Not after I walked in on you two dry humping against the counter."

Buffy titled her head back and almost sighed, but Darla had opened her mouth again to say, "You've never lost your head like that before... It was kind of nice to see you relax."

Buffy frowned very hard. "What?"

"Well," Darla gave a little eye roll, "not the grinding, sweaty part that was featured. But the not being so tied down, actually losing yourself in something? I don't see that very often."

Buffy's facial expression didn't waver. "Are you telling me you're approving of Spike, Darla?"

Her brows went up. "Oh, so I tell you that you're not acting as uptight as usual, applaud that, and I just have to be approving of Spike?" The sarcasm was tangible, but Buffy heard something beneath that.

She heard acceptance- Or, at least, the closest thing to it. "No. But you are, aren't you?"

Darla groaned. "I'm not saying I like it. Or him for that matter, his attitude rivals my own and you know how I don't like to be challenged."

Buffy smiled. "No one should dare."

"Exactly." Darla met her friend's eyes. "Dear, you're not dumb. And even though 'kiss' is a four letter word in my book, I saw the way that idiot of a vampire looked at you, held you. He's not going to hurt you, and if I believe that then I'm inclined to believe he really is your mate." She sighed heavily, very dramatically. "And I realize there isn't anything I should even be trying to do about that."

Buffy leaned in to hug her. Darla was surprised, but accepted the embrace all the same.

"Still, stay by the phone," the vampire advised as she pulled away and stepped through the front door. "You know how I hate to be wrong."

Buffy noted the true concern lying in Darla's eyes, and nodded. After the woman left, she went back into the kitchen, and she'd been there ever since.

Buffy was grateful that Darla had come around so easily- Well, as easily as was possible. Things were still new, and Spike was still a complete stranger to her.

However, she was a woman who accepted what her gut told her, and always kept an open mind. Darla was wise beyond her years, and Buffy suspected that she had not left the house with any doubt in her mind that Spike wouldn't hurt her friend. Otherwise, no one would be getting blood tonight.

Spike was still in the house. She'd told him he could use her shower if he wanted, and she'd also offered a change of clothes if he didn't feel like slipping back into the ones that were surely starting to chafe his skin a bit. Surprisingly, Spike had accepted both offers, and now the vamp was upstairs soaping up and washing his bleached hair.

Buffy wondered if vampires shaved.

Shaking the thought away, she decided to go downstairs and grab those clothes she promised him.

The laundry room and main storage unit of her home, the basement rarely got cleaned out. Buffy hardly noticed the dust and ugly gray walls anymore. She was used to it down here, all the boxes marked with faded black Sharpie seemed to belong.

She approached the washer and dryer units. There were two cardboard boxes filled to the top with old clothes sitting inside them, an accumulation of years gone by. As she opened the first box, she found several pairs of sweatpants, ugly maternity tops, T-shirts with discolored band logos, and even some things her and Dawn has grown out of but couldn't bear to part with for some unknown emotional reason or another.

Buffy sifted through the clothes until she found a large black T-shirt and dark green sweatpants. She knew for a fact they weren't hers, or Dawn's, but probably had once belonged to their father.

Neither of them could ever keep stuff that had once belonged to an ex-boyfriend. They simply didn't want to, and surely no new man that came into their life later on would appreciate it. Joyce, when she'd begun dating again, hadn't gotten a chance to lose a beau and therefore burn or donate his gifts and clothes to charity. However, Hank Summers was one man none of the Summers women could ever seem to get over.

Buffy's father had run out on them all when she was only sixteen. It had hurt, and bitterness and resentment had coiled in her stomach over time for his lack of care when it came to her mother, her sister, and herself. Yet still, not a single one of them could manage to get rid of quite all the things he had left behind.

Buffy sighed and folded the T-shirt and sweats, then reclosed the box and headed back upstairs. The clothes were clean, they would fit Spike, and she wouldn't have to worry over him getting all growly about wearing some other man's clothing once she reassured him they didn't use to belong to someone she'd dated. So it was a good thing, despite the knot in her throat.

Buffy next thought to herself, as she ascended the staircase to the second floor, that she should really get rid of the boxes in the basement and just tell Spike to bring some of his own clothes over here.

She tripped on the last step. When had her thoughts gotten thoroughly taken out of her control? Why would Spike need any of his stuff kept here?

*Because he's going to be staying.*

Buffy knew it. It made her sigh, also made tingles run down her spine, but she accepted it as the fact that it was. They hadn't discussed it, not since before Darla's arrival, and Buffy knew Spike probably wouldn't sleep anywhere else at least until her friend had gone again.

By that time, Buffy was sure, on some baser level she just understood, that she'd be too used to him being so close all the time that she wouldn't want Spike to leave. He would gather his belongings, then move into her home.

It would become theirs, which was utterly terrifying.

Buffy gulped as she knocked on the bathroom door. The sound of falling water stopped and she heard him say, "Just a sec."

Spike moving in with her was... ugh, dare she think it... inevitable. She realized this, because frankly, beneath her nerves and inner wigging, the idea of him leaving bothered her now. He'd only spent the night once and the thought that he wouldn't sleep so close to her again after Darla left town made Buffy actually sad.

She hated it. She hated this attachment that was growing so fast she could barely catch her breath-

Spike opened the door, and breathing ceased completely.

There he stood, the vampire that drove her crazy. Only a towel covered him for decency, the rest of his body was bare. Tall and beautiful he stood. He had toned abs that looked completely unreal, his arms were smooth and sculpted out of quiet strength. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him, he was molded from pure skin and muscle.

She shoved the clothes she held in her hands at him and mentally went down for the count.

The look in Spike's eyes was telling, but Buffy barely noticed it. He knew she was ogling him, but she didn't catch on to that. "Thanks, love."

"S-Sure." She shook her head and blinked, seemingly trying to wrangle her verbal abilities into order. "They weren't an old boyfriend's."

Spike rose an eyebrow, then looked at the clothes in his hands. Understanding dawned. "Ah. Good to know." He probably would have vamped out if they had been, right before burning the damn things.

Buffy gave a jerky nod then turned away. "I'll be downstairs."

He called out to her. "Buffy-"

"See you in a minute." *Hopefully when you're clothed,* she thought.

***

Okay, so living with a totally attractive vampire just got way worse.

Buffy inhaled deeply, trying to get the fresh evening air to clear her mind. Her heart was still pounding in her chest as she paced her tiny back deck, and she was hot and moisture was pooling in her underwear.

*Jesus, relax!*

She'd seen Spike practically naked, though, and her brain would not let her forget it. She couldn't relax. That body was to die for- pun not intended -and she had a claim on it. A claim on Spike. The total hottie/pain in the ass undead creature she would soon call her boyfriend- or mate- or whatever!

Buffy ran her hands through her hair. This was just all so frustrating. Her hormones were also, not helping matters. She had decided to try and welcome Spike's presence in her life with less resistance and more trust. Really, she was, but how could she let her guard down at all when just seeing the man without a shirt and pants on got her this hot and bothered?

Buffy felt like she was losing control. She could not go into this without caution. She couldn't. That would wreck her, surely, even if they were going to end up together anyway. There was a big, meaningful difference between affection and lust.

Buffy let out a rush of breath. She just wanted a guarantee. With Spike, with this claim, for her heart. It was irrational and never going to happen, but she wanted it. She wanted a promise, from whatever overpowering deity had decided to write her and Spike's lives this way, that everything was going to be alright.

"How do I know it's going to be okay?" She muttered the words to herself, very quietly, ignoring the helplessness of the statement. She needed something to level out her worries, her fears, and more than anything else, she needed something to cool her down. Her heart was still fluttering.

"It will be okay."

Buffy spun around on a gasp, her dignity crumpling to dust when she saw Spike standing behind her. He was wearing the sweat pants she'd given him, but no shirt. Great. "And you know this how?" she blurted angrily.

He stared at her reddened cheeks and heaving chest. His eye narrowed as he stepped closer.

She moved an inch away as he closed in, then she came to the edge of the steps. Spike had stopped, but she could tell he wanted to touch her. "Because we'll make this work." When she stayed silent, he bit back a sigh. "I get it's going to be hard, yeah? You do, too. We've got a fight ahead of us, probably a lot of them." He cracked a smile, trying to catch one of hers. "But that doesn't mean we can't figure it out... together."

Buffy's lips pinched. She crossed her arms and looked at her feet. "We'll have to."

There it was. The base of her fears. They would have to find a way to be together. There was no divorce for mates, no separating. They could end up hating each other and still be stuck, with no way out.

He felt the same fears as Buffy did, but she had never thought in terms of forever. He, however, had lived a long time never expecting to grow old and pass on, but Spike didn't plan to find a mate, either, though he'd always wanted it.

He wasn't truly worried that they would grow to hate each other. He didn't see it happening, and sure, anything was possible, but the best way to avoid it was to work on liking each other first. Buffy had started that, and he was already in deep. However, her fears were causing her to pull away just when she was letting him get close.

"Having to do something, doesn't mean we've lost all control," he said.

Her head shot up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that just because some meddling forces out there like to try and be funny, doesn't mean we can't do this on our own time, love."

She actually took a step closer to him. "I know. Y-You've said that before."

He smiled down at her, softness in his eyes that he didn't know shined clear through. "If we did the mating bit tonight, Buffy, it still wouldn't change how we decide to take things. All of the decisions we make are our own. We move, no one else moves us. We're not chess pieces."

She felt a weight lift from her shoulders, something like peace suddenly settling in her stomach. If he believed that, then maybe she could, too. There was one thing, however... "Feelings usually take on a life of their own, Spike."

He smirked gently, somehow looking both rakish and trustworthy, before saying, "Baby, ignoring them won't help a thing."
_________________________________
Thanks for all of the reviews! They really help me to write and I love hearing what you guys think! Please continue to give me your thoughts, they help the muse. And I would love to know how you feel about the banner, too. (I put it on the first chapter after I made it, but for those of you who haven't seen it yet I'm excited to know your opinions)
Thank for reading! *HUGS*

She really shouldn't have walked out in nothing but a towel, but her robe was in the laundry and she'd forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with her after turning on the shower.

There had been four days of living together. They had a routine down, tentative though it was, it was still a routine. Buffy felt like an idiot for bypassing one of the more important unspoken rules: No walking around naked.

But yes, of course, the towel. So not completely with the naked, but still vulnerable. And while Darla was out on the front porch talking on the phone to Dawn, Spike was not.

No, Spike was upstairs, standing in front of Buffy looking like a hungry tiger who'd just run into a weakened little lamb.

Buffy hated being a lamb. She really, really did, but more than that she hated the fact that her skin had run raw with awareness merely from the look the vampire was giving her. The last four days had been a test of both patience and control for the them, honestly. She wanted him, he wanted her, and the only things keeping them apart were Buffy's hesitancy to move too fast in the physical arena, and Darla's well timed appearances.

She didn't know if she truly felt her friend's interruptions were well timed at all, but that was just one more contradictory emotion to add to the list of reasons why She Couldn't Sleep With Spike. None of which did any real good in subduing her hormones.

Now, standing here in front of him wearing nothing but a towel, she was much pinker and more abashed than he was when their roles had been reversed less than a week ago. Spike just opened the door and allowed her to see him practically naked but for the faded towel draped around his hips. Buffy, however, had been so very careful to avoid that kind of confrontation for herself.

A robe was okay, but Spike hadn't seen her in anything less than an oversized sleep shirt or nightgown until now. Now, she was unclothed, with her dripping hair hanging around her bare shoulders making her shiver, while a pink cotton towel covered her torso and just the very tops of her thighs. Her heart rate had increased exponentially.

Spike heard it, felt vibrations surge through him as his fingers twitched. He and Buffy had barely done more than kiss and press each other against kitchen counters the last few days. While they'd talked and come to an easy compromise of moving slowly with their physical relationship- more for her comfort, really -keeping their hands to themselves was something easier said than done.

Every time they touched, Spike only wanted more, and the hardest part was he knew she did, too. But they'd set rules, and now they had to follow them, lest something happen that Buffy might regret.

The fear of that was why Spike shoved his eager hands into his two front pockets, and took a small step back. "Sorry, I didn't-"

"I- I was just going to my room to change."

He nodded. "Right then." He turned and gave her room to pass. "I'll be downstairs."

"Okay."

Buffy practically ran for the bedroom and sighed after shutting the door. The awkwardness there hadn't been one sided, and the only reason Spike should be acting fidgety and distant, was for the same reason she had been.

Temptation was annoying, if you asked her. Stressful and annoying, especially when you couldn't give in to it.

Buffy went to change into some clothes, towel still tightly clasped around her chest. Her legs felt a little wobbly as she let it drop to put on a pair of white underwear and then a matching lace bra.

A knock drew her attention. She frowned and wrapped the towel around her body once again.

Buffy knew it was him before she opened the door, of course, and that did nothing to help her stomach when it decided to start doing flips like a circus performer. Before she could even meet his eyes and ask what he wanted, Spike had leant in and kissed her.

Buffy didn't pull back as her eyes fell closed. All worries from a minute ago simply vanished with the world, and just like his kisses always made her do, she stopped caring about distance and boundaries. She forgot about everything, but him.

She tried to entwine her arms around his neck and pull Spike closer, but that's when he stepped back, hands all to himself and mouth no longer touching hers. She stood there for three full seconds looking like a fish with her lips still puckered, before opening her eyes and frowning. "Wha-"

"I just had to kiss you... do something," he explained, shuffling back. He almost tripped over his own feet, which had to be tough for a vampire with enhanced coordination, and Buffy bet he'd be blushing right now if he could. Spike gave her a quick, shy smile and turned around to leave.

He was giving her space, but simultaneously satisfying an urge, sating the desire to have physical contact in some way with her. Just a kiss. It was the simplest one they'd shared yet. Buffy hadn't even gotten the chance to lose her head completely.

She realized that bothered her. An unconscious pout settled on her lips. Before she could talk herself out of it, she seized Spike's shoulder and spun him back around.

Her heart fluttering, and her mind finally decided to give up its protestations as she stood tall and restarted what he had begun, pressing an urgent but gentle kiss to his slightly swollen lips.

Immediately, Buffy found herself crushed against his body.

Spike released a throaty groan, pushing them both backwards and kicking the door shut. She leaned further into him and he fell against the wood. Control slipped easily away as Spike broke the kiss to press urgent little nips and bites along Buffy's neck. Her sigh of approval did nothing to distract him from the lack of clothing she sported after the towel fell.

She shivered as Spike ran his hands up her waist. Her bra straps were dragged down her shoulders to lay limp about her arms, her hips suddenly pinned between Spike's and the door. Her fingers ran through his bleached curls while he kissed her neck and bit with blunt teeth. Buffy had just lost her breath on another deep sigh of contentment when his mouth found hers again.

Their tongues dueled and tangled together, lips firming and bruising, pulsating heat rising between them. Quickly, Buffy's fingers dove beneath the hem of Spike's T-shirt and began tugging at the garment. Nowhere in her heart or gut did it say she was going too fast, and her brain was far past caring. Their mouths broke apart for a mere second to get his shirt off before coming together again.

Spike groaned and bit her bottom lip, the one that did all that damn pouting, as Buffy's nails scored down his back. He pulled back so she could breathe and cupped her face, noticing her eyes as they ran over his chest. He saw the heat in them, the desire. He had nothing on her.

Spike finally let himself take in the full view of Buffy in nothing but a bra and the scrap of lace clinging to her hips. Her limbs all long and slender, soft skin his to explore; a growl welled up in his throat. "You're gorgeous."

Her hazel eyes shined like firelight. "So are you."

He snickered a bit, pressing his hips into Buffy's and grinding, conjuring a quiet "Oh" from her lips. "A tad rougher around the edges than that, baby."

Her blood was rushing, singing in her veins as she felt her leg being lifted then held at his waist. He pushed harder into her once more. He began a steady rhythm, forceful movements of coarse denim and solidity, making sparks ignite in her chest. She gasped as he kept sliding against her lace guarded clit, getting her to make noises she was pretty sure had never come out of her mouth before.

Spike inhaled greedily as her scent became stronger; the smell of his mate's arousal sent the vampire into a dizzying, zealous spin of longing. Now he realized he could barely handle the wanton firecracker in his arms when they weren't even in bed together, the idea of actually being inside her had him both marveling and greedy. He wanted to know.

The demon desired it, needed it, but Spike checked himself. He Stomped down the demon's impulse to throw her on the bed and ravage her, make her see stars from the satisfaction he'd bring her. Instead, Spike kept his even pace and allowed himself the euphoria that watching her eyes roll up in pleasure brought him.

When she caught the smirk of pure achievement that sat on his face, Buffy almost melted further, the absolute arrogance in his expression made her want to both show him as good as he got, and kneel at his feet.

So she had a submissive side, she'd always known it. However, that wasn't a big focal point in her sex life, frankly because the few men she had been with liked either equal control, or her on top. She'd never met someone who would yank on her hair while she performed a backwards cowgirl.

But as Spike seized her thighs to wrap them higher and tighter about his waist, finally snarling when his hands grabbed her ass, Buffy realized that this vampire might just be the man she'd never had a chance to meet before; someone very special that she had always wanted.

Spike still moved against her, realizing that anymore of this and he very well might ruin the pair of Levis he wore. He didn't care so much about the zipper, but if seeing his naughty bits was going to get her thinking that he was pushing for sex, and cause her to leave his arms right now, Spike didn't want any part of it. Even if the denim was damn confining.

However, stopping was hardly an option he even wanted to consider as she whimpered and her body tensed with every harsher nudge. He lunged forward to latch onto her neck again, and she moaned involuntarily. Music to his ears, that was, and every other sweet sound she made. Buffy high off lust was like a flawless choir to him.

He ran his tongue up the column of her throat and rested at her ear. "Make that sound for me again, kitten."

She did, louder and even more beautiful than the last, because she'd done it at his command.

Spike was sure his heart might start to beat again when her breaths sped up, and her moans grew shorter. The scent of her was like a drugging perfume, and his mouth watered. They had fabrics between their most intimate places, but with every connection of hard denim to soft lace, heat spread out like wildfire in Buffy's stomach. She felt every nerve ending burn, and just as she was sure that Spike would slow down to torture her, or that he would stop because of fatigue, or Darla would knock on the door, or something would ruin it all and make her cry out of pure frustration, it hit. Like a wave of electricity, excitement made her smile carelessly just as she fell over the edge. She gripped Spike's frame and squeezed his body closer to her, her thighs biting into him as they both writhed against each other. Her moans decorated the air but she couldn't be concerned; the room was spinning.

Her thighs loosened their death grip on his body as her heartbeat turned into the only sound she could hear. Slowly, her arms and fingers and toes regained feeling, and Buffy realized that Spike was still at her neck, now nuzzling and kissing the skin with tenderness. Her lungs shivered on an intake of breath, and she realized she probably felt very heavy to him with her energy drained out of every limb, but Spike didn't seem the least bit ready to put her down.

Buffy found she was okay with that. Calmly, warmly, she brought her arms up and set them on his shoulders, letting her hands run gently through his hair. She smiled when he... Wait. *Was that a purr?*

She grinned, shocked, when he did it again; then almost laughed when he licked the somewhat sore spot on her throat. "So, vamps really do have a neck fetish, I see."

He kissed her sweetly again at the same place he'd refused to neglect, before finally raising his head to meet her eyes. He looked worried, which scared her a little, until he said, "I bit you... Not with fang, of course, but I did it hard...There's a mark."

Buffy went to raise her hand to her neck, but stopped herself as she realized their position wouldn't comfortably allow it. Instead, she simply shrugged, and said, "Well, it'll fade. No big."

The light that filled his gaze, that look of relief, got her heart warming to him even more than it already had. Buffy noticed it now, how deep her feelings had begun to root. It looked like there wasn't any stopping them.

"You're amazing," he murmured around a sudden smirk, leaning forward again to place a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth. "And appreciative. I love hearing you, moaning and whimpering," his hands slid forward, moving towards her ass so fingers could slip beneath the lace band, "You're a goddess."

She arched against him, emitting a small gasp when their bodies collided again. She felt a familiar beautiful sensation as he rolled his hips, pulling her into the movement. "Spike... Unh. We-We should... Oh."

He chuckled, something sinful and warm. " 'Oh?' I think I just brought a better idea to the table, pet." He thrust temptingly between her sensitive, outspread legs, tongue curling behind his teeth before a dark whisper ghosted by her ear, "I think I want to hear you moaning again, for me."

She fought to keep her eyes open, and locked them with his bright blue ones to try and steady herself. "Spike..." It didn't help. The heat was always there, just waiting for a fire to start. Thing so easily became aflame between them. "Oh God. Y-You... You didn't, um..." No matter how turned on she was, Buffy didn't think she could say the actual sentence to him yet.

Spike smirked again. "Get my rocks off? No, love, not just; but that isn't because I couldn't, believe me."

His unexpected admission flattered her, and Buffy felt a little braver. "But I want you to... I mean, I don't want to get a present and not give anything in return." All in all, she was happy with that metaphor.

Spike understood, too. He smiled warmly and said, "Glad we're on the same page. So why not," he rocked his hips, "let me have a little more fun watching you come undone in my arms, and then we'll worry about me, yeah?"

Buffy didn't know how to say no to such a request, and was about to lean in to kiss him, when a loud knocking sounded behind her head.

"Buffy, Dawn wanted to talk to you again before she hangs up. Is that okay?"

The moment froze, then splintered.

Buffy wanted oh so badly to tell Darla she could call Dawn back, but Spike had gently set her down before she decided whether to articulate the words or not. Surprise danced in her belly as she comprehended the state she and her vampire could have been caught in, followed by mild amusement, and then reality with its ugliness.

Spike seemed to realize even before she did that the mention of her sister would get Buffy thinking quickly about how, where, and when she would tell Dawn about the new man in her life. The one who was to be permanently in her life, after showing up only so recently. Add that to the disappointment in Buffy's chest as Spike let go of her, and all her nerves wigging over Darla standing just outside the door while they were both half naked in a bedroom probably smelling at least a little like sex, and Buffy was throwing a short nightgown over her head before even realizing she'd reached for it.

She paused at Spike's side. He leaned down for a kiss which she happily gave him. It wasn't chaste, but it wasn't desperate; it was warm and loving. It made him smile when she turned away.

Darla stood there, phone in hand, as Buffy peaked around the door. "Thanks," she said.

The she-vamp frowned softly, but Buffy didn't see it, and the frown became a bright look of surprise as Buffy gently kneed the door open wider to reveal Spike, slipping into his T-shirt.

She told Dawn to hang on for minute before bringing the phone down to her hip. "I'm going to take this downstairs." Buffy caught Spike's eyes and smiled gently before turning to Darla, who stood now with arms crossed, teasing accusation on her pretty face. Buffy just held up her pointer finger. "Don't."

The vampire shook her head with a grin. "I'll wait until Dawn is finished first," she said kindly, with enough friendly menace to make Buffy groan as she walked away.

Spike muttered something about needing to take a shower, and Darla's answering, "I'm sure you do" was what Buffy heard last before finally walking out onto the privacy of her front porch.

She sighed and ran a hand through her wet, tangled hair, bringing the phone up to her ear. "Hey Dawn."

"Hi Buffy, sorry to bother you again, but I just remembered something that Xander wanted me to run by you."

"You're not bothering me," Buffy reassured, though the slight ache still in her center contradicted that response. "What's up?"

"Well," her sister began, barely discernible excitement filtering through Dawn's steady voice, but still there nonetheless, "there's a new restaurant in town. Remember, I told you about it?"

"Uh huh," Buffy drew out, listening with a heedful ear.

"Well, Xander and I really liked it. The food is great, and the atmosphere is cool, not too stuffy or family focused, ya know?"

"Sure," she said agreeably.

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with us this weekend?"

"You were wondering? I thought this had to do with Xander."

"Oh, we both want you to come with us."

"Uh huh." Buffy wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Xander just wants to set you up."

"Wha-?!" Buffy nearly dropped the device and had to hastily grab it with both hands as she moved farther away from her front door. "You want to what?"

"Not me, Buffy. Xander. He has a close friend that he works with and really thinks you guys would hit it off. It's only dinner, and I promise it would be casual."

"No, Dawn."

"Buffy, c'mon. I know it's a blind date, but I've met the man and he's definitely cute, totally you're type, too."

Ordinarily, Buffy would not respond to this idea with outright refusal, and she knew Dawn knew that. A blind date sounded stressful and awkward, but it wasn't something she was known to be hugely against, either. There were tons of reasons why blind dates sucked, but the only one that Buffy needed was the hot British vampire who occupied her every other thought nowadays.

And it wasn't because he would object. "Dawn, no. I don't do blind dates."

"You don't do dates," her sister griped.

Buffy rolled her eyes. No, she didn't date very often, that was true enough. However, what Spike and her had going on right now could definitely be labeled as... something. It was more serious than dating, and not so plain either. "Dawn," she said patiently, "I'm not going on a blind date with Xander's coworker. I'd be happy to go to dinner with you two, but no date. Okay?"

"Fine," Dawn sighed, resigned to the decision, accepting that Buffy really didn't want to go. She still asked, "Why, though?"

A question Buffy wasn't sure how to answer; her brow wrinkled. "Uh, because... blind dates aren't my thing. I like meeting the person myself before I commit to a date with them."

Dawn didn't answer right away, which made her nervously hold her breath, hoping that the younger woman believed the fib that was still sort of truthful. Then, Dawn finally said, "Okay. I understand. I just... I just wish you would find a guy who really gets you, ya know?"

Buffy frowned again. "Um... yeah. Me too."

"You're just... You're my sister. You work all the time, and I know you love your job, but I feel like... Ugh, what I'm saying is guys are idiots, and I know you know that. But I just really want you to find one who's a non-idiot that will make you happy. That's why I was all pushy-sibling a minute ago."

Buffy's smile was warm and flattered as she looked down at her fingertips, blushing even though Dawn couldn't see her. "You weren't pushy. It was... It was just an idea. A nice idea."

"Yeah, well, it's not so bad you turned it down." Dawn spoke as if she might have shrugged. "Xander will be a little mope-y, but his friend will just have to get over it."

"I'm sure he will."

"Alright, well, I'll let you go now. I expect to come over soon to catch Darla before she flies out of the country again."

"Sounds good."

"Maybe the three of us can go to that restaurant, huh?"

"Again with the sounding good." She smiled once more. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, bye."

Buffy hung up the phone, biting her lips while she leaned against a support. There was something sweet in the wind, wrapping around her bare ankles and calves. A summery breeze whispered, chilling her throat where hickeys rested and stray water droplets fell from her hair. The days were passing quickly, getting hotter every morning and pleasantly warm by nightfall.

Her fingers trailed upwards to her neck, smoothing along her own skin and conjuring an easy shiver. She looked up at the yellow moon, something in her chest urging her to go back inside and find Spike. She felt at home beneath the darkness of night, as much as she did in the sunshine at the beach. She was a California girl, with a love for the sun and summertime, but another part of her had always found peace in the night. Buffy figured that if she had to live without one, she would miss either terribly.

Spike could never walk in the daylight with her, but he would never try to make her choose between him and the sunlight, or keep her hidden away unless it was what she wanted; somehow Buffy knew that.

A little smile was playing on her lips when she went back in. Darla caught her almost immediately, giving her that universal look all best girlfriends could understand when a new man had entered the picture. Or a vampire, whichever.

"So..." she said, "Spike and you going to be sharing that bedroom with fogged up windows anytime soon, or are you going to deny yourselves satisfaction a while longer?"

Buffy looked down, her cheeks pink. "Windows were nowhere near foggy," she muttered, and left the room.

The kitchen seemed to be Buffy's favorite place lately, Darla noted, when she followed her with arms crossed at the waist. "So Spike isn't as talented as you'd hoped?"

"Th-That's not- He's plenty... talented. But I mean, we're just not... ready yet."

"You mean you aren't ready yet."

Buffy sighed, throwing her arms up in annoyance. "Can you blame me, Darla? When Spike and I finally sleep together, it's going to be done. The whole claim thing? It'll be complete the moment we fall into bed together."

"I know," she replied. "You might as well seal that deal and start learning how to live with each other. Putting it off won't-"

"Since when did you get on the 'Rush Into It' bandwagon?" Buffy argued.

Darla shook her head. "When it comes to the supernatural and things like a mating bond, Buffy, there's no set timetable. You're the mate of a vampire." She sounded very official and wise all of a sudden, which made Buffy tense. "You've accepted that. Obviously, for some reason, you like Spike. There's chemistry there even I can see. You have taken every step you should've before fully going through with it. Now, you're just trying to do what you think is right rather than listening to your instincts."

Buffy's jaw clenched, and she went and got herself a bottle of water from the fridge. After nearly slamming the door closed, leaving the drink on the island countertop, she said, "I'm trying to be smart about this, okay? It's not as simple as you say it is."

"Over-thinking has always been your forte, hasn't it?"

Buffy glared at her friend. Fears were the big problem lately, and she knew that, and had a sneaking suspicion Darla had figured it out, too. "It's com-"

"If you say 'It's complicated' I will have to strangle you."

"Ugh!" Buffy groaned and stomped her foot, feeling lectured and embarrassed. "But it is! It's- It's- I don't want to... get into this and then get hurt, okay? I can't do that. I don't know how vampires feel, or how they care about someone. You can have a mate, but that doesn't guarantee love."

Darla's eyes softened suddenly, and she approached the nervous woman staring at the chilled water bottle. The vampire picked up said bottle and brought it up to Buffy's forehead, letting her friend take hold of it to keep the cooling instrument against her skin. Darla said, "There are never any guarantees, even with humans. But Spike- and myself, I've come to realize -are rather atypical."

Buffy sighed. "I know. You're both..."

"Neither of us really have a true conscious, but we can care about things, and people. Not easily, but we have it."

Buffy licked her lips, a soft frown marring her pretty, pale face. "You're soulless, but not heartless."

Darla started, flinching back. Buffy raised her head to see that Darla was staring intensely at her. She looked amazed, and that was a difficult reaction to put on the woman's face, always had been. "That's a good way to put it, I think." Her voice was strangled.

Buffy put the water bottle down again. "I just... I don't want to be caught in a web I can't get out of. Do you... Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Darla nodded, and Buffy waited expectantly for her to speak. The vampire's expression softened. "I do. But I don't think Spike is going to let you get tangled in any web."

Buffy shook her head, staring curiously at her friend. "When did you start endorsing Spike?"

Darla scoffed and gave her a look. She then brought her hand down from where it rested on Buffy's shoulder and shrugged. "I just think he could've gotten into your pants pretty easily upstairs- and very quickly -but he didn't."

"I might've said 'no' FYI."

"Not if he'd taken advantage of the connection, that little thing that says you two are supposed to be having sex, and gotten his jeans off. But my point is he didn't, and that takes both control and respect for you."

Buffy sighed again, placing her face in her hands and muttering. "I know, I know; I know you're right." Darla had always been good at getting her points across, and even better at drilling annoying things like reality and positivity into Buffy's cluttered head.

"How did you know that we hadn't done it?" Buffy abruptly questioned.

Darla snorted indelicately. "Because you left the room. As soon as you two start, there won't be much that'll tear you apart for a while. Believe me when I say vampires are insatiable; and a vampire with their mate? Forget it."

Buffy was silent but an amused smile came up to her lips. Darla shrugged again, and added, "Besides, he said he needed to take a shower. I can only guess what he was planning on doing in there."

Buffy's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as blood rushed to her cheeks.

"You really are going to drive him to insanity and back, but I presume you know that?"

Buffy glared at her friend, shoving Darla back as the she-vamp released a happy chuckle. "I'm not going to drive my mate insane."

"You know, I kind of wish you would. It'd be amusing, that's for sure." Darla smiled.

"What'd be amusing?"

Both women's attention shot to the doorway, finding a shirtless Spike towel drying his bleached hair. He had on a pair of sweats that he'd bought, along with a few other necessities, to keep here while he stayed under Buffy's roof. He'd also brought with him clothes such as his favorite pairs of Levi's and several T-shirts, even a couple sweaters, at Buffy's suggestion he move some stuff in.

Though she had been very careful to avoid the actual words "move in" Spike figured he was only a hop and a skip away from doing just that. But he wouldn't push her, and it was Buffy's call.

However, he was not against moving nearer to her house if she took too long.

The way she was looking at him right then, slack jawed and eyes riveted, Spike couldn't help but smile. Oh, she was close to allowing him entrance into not just her life, but every part of her; he could taste it.

Darla huffed out a loud breath. "You really have challenged yourself, Buffy. I'll say that."

The she-vamp received a glare for the comment. "How about you just don't say anything?" Buffy suggested sweetly.

Darla laughed freely, and went to leave the room. "I'll let you two be alone." She passed Spike, pausing only long enough to whisper over his shoulder, as Buffy turned around to put the water bottle away that she hadn't opened.

His eyes on his mate, he still clearly heard Darla's threat: "Hurt her, and I'll find a way to make this eternity miserable for you."

She walked away, and while her words were rather tame compared to many of the things he'd said as well as been told in his past, the chill of her voice and the simple honesty there made Spike gather up some respect for the blonde twit. Anyone who cared about Buffy like that earned at least a little in his books.

Spike's gaze never left Buffy's back, and when she turned around again, he had one thing cross his mind like a lighting flash across the sky.

*If we had met under different circumstances, as enemies, or just vamp and victim, I still couldn't do it; I could never hurt her. Even if I'd been created to."

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END NOTES: Thanks for the reviews! They do help fuel my inspiration and I really appreciate them, and thanks to all who read this story! Please let me know if chapter number 10 was enjoyed. (:
And Happy Halloween everyone! *big hugs*
Also, in case the Spuffy Realm ever goes offline (Praying that is doesn't because I love this website very much) I'm just going to point out that should it happen before this story is finished, I will either continue posting this fic on Elysian Fields or a writing website called Booksie. Currently I have nothing up on Elysian Fields and only some of another fic (BFMD) on Booksie, but they are what I'll use if the Spuffy Realm retires. Which again, I hope does not happen. I really appreciate all that the people who run this website do and thank them so much for their hard work in keeping TSR up and running! (:

*Doesn't he ever put a shirt on?* Buffy thought to herself. After walking through the front door, having finally gotten home from work, the first sight that greeted her was Spike sprawled on the couch, napping in the living room. The TV screen was lit by a silent sitcom, curtains over the windows drawn closed against the evening's dying rays of sunlight.

Buffy sighed , wondering how it was possible for such a devious man to look so innocent. With his bleached head lying against the arm of the couch, his mouth slightly open and thick eyelashes shadowing his cheekbones, Spike was utterly relaxed, and looked vulnerable for the truly first time.

Buffy's lips curled reluctantly into a fond smile A throw blanket lie across the back of an armchair, and she unfolded it to drape the cover over the sleeping vampire.

Or what she thought was sleeping. Suddenly a hand reached out, taking her wrist into its confining grip and tugging her close, knocking the blanket to the floor. Her gasp met the air as her ass hit the couch.

"I didn't mean to wake-"

Spike cut her words in half, and all apologies left Buffy's mind.

He kissed with so much warmth, like something so sugary it almost hurt your teeth, but you couldn't help diving in for another bite. He was like that in every way. Spike left her breathless, wanting more of him, and always overwhelmed.

She couldn't gather the courage to go through with the claim just yet, and that made things tense, but somehow when he kissed her, nothing was a concern except for oxygen. Buffy melted like butter on warm bread when he touched her, and before she knew it, she was lying atop his hard body. Moving against him, conforming to his chest and legs as he tugged her upward, bringing her lips closer.

Her breasts pressed against his bare skin, and Spike was beyond glad he'd chosen to do laundry while she was at work. His hands wandered downward after she was situated. As he let his palms form over the shape of her ass in the lovely skirt she had on, he felt hers trail into his hair, stroking and drawing out curls with playful fingertips.

He ground her down into his hips, thrusting up to make her moan against his mouth. She was flavor and spice, heat in every twist of her body from ankles to hands; his senses all fogged with her fragrance. She moved against him in a mimic of the dance they would soon learn, and every nerve was screaming to take her upstairs and remove all barriers between them.

Instead, he allowed his grip to tighten, his fingers to bite. The demon in him was raging for a complete claim, begging for entrance to the body on top of him. Spike's face nearly shifted when Buffy released a little mewl of pleasure, and his hands roughed their caresses even further.

She gasped in shock after the slap to her rear, then another rang out in the room, both the skin on her face and under her skirt reddening. Unprepared yet delighted, her body arched into his. The kiss broken, she saw that Spike's blue eyes were nearly swallowed by blackness. Desire flared hot in her belly as her hips wriggled and pressed. The kiss restarted, her skirt rode up, and Buffy found herself flipped before her heart could regain its rhythm.

Spike slipped his fingers behind her back, unclipping her skirt and finding the zipper. Buffy raised her hips from the soft cushions to help, and their gazes locked as Spike wrestled the garment from her legs.

The remainder of her ensemble did nothing to cool the vampire down, she realized. Buffy still wore a modest white button-up, with mid-length sleeves and a scoop neckline. Her high-waist skirt was no longer present, but underneath she had donned a simple blue thong.

Spike, evidently, really appreciated the look altogether. His eyes flashed yellow, and Buffy froze as he dove for her throat. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if he was too strung out to be let so near her neck, but then he was nibbling and sucking and she forgot to breathe.

"Do you have any idea," he groaned, "how badly I've wanted you since the last time?"

The last time. Buffy whimpered. She'd neglected to show Spike much physical attention since her bedroom, since he'd given her a happy against a door, without even removing her underwear to do it. She hadn't begged him off, or distanced herself, but he hadn't come back. He hadn't so much as kissed her since that day unless it was on the cheek, forehead, or shoulder.

She had thought he was angry, then she'd thought he was teasing. Now, she didn't know what to think. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"Couldn't," he muttered, still at her throat. "Wanted to. Almost did so many times, but I-... Need to know you want this too, Buffy. Need to know you crave me like I crave you."

*Oh God! If he keeps saying things like that...* Buffy's inner voice shouted in dismay. Her heart had swelled; she felt like the Grinch at the end of the Christmas movie. Spike was obviously unsure of himself, for the first time ever it seemed, with her.

That he needed her to need him, too, made her feel wanted, almost loved. She couldn't believe he didn't already understand. She needed, craved, hungered for- Whatever you decided to call it, she felt it, for him. Her mate. "Of course I do-"

His head shot up and she froze, the sudden explicit attention making her nervous. Buffy swallowed hard. "I need you," she said. "I just- I wasn't sure how to- to start something without making you think I was ready for... well, everything."

His eyes softened, and Buffy almost thought she saw... something too scary to let herself think she'd seen it. Even if it'd only been a spark. Her vampire leaned down, and whispered, "I see. Well, let this be a lesson to you." His fingers banded around her hips, beneath the thin fabric of her underwear. "I'm not going to push, or start something, without your explicit permission. Got it?"

She did. The relief in his eyes was clear after she nodded in reply, and it made her pulse quicken. He grinned devilishly, lowering his head. "There'll be no," he licked a trail up her neck, drawing a shiver from her abdomen, "claiming business until you say so. I promise."

She heard him, but all Buffy was able to answer with was a whimper that sort of sounded like "Okay" if you listened hard. He started kissing her again, and she was immediately absorbed in the feel of him.

It ran over her, something divine clicking into place in her heart. She felt the underlying connection between them and smiled under his lips. There was comfort, lust, and an emotion completely detached from their bond, something wholly new.

It was nearly alien, the way she felt when she was with him. No one else compared. Spike was something to her that nobody had ever been before, and perhaps this vamp and she were "meant to be" in a completely random way, but that was not all she felt.

If there was one thing they really had in spades, it was chemistry. Something Buffy realized had been missing in every one of her past relationships- at least of this caliber. Something she didn't want to give up, or take for granted.

Spike's fingers slipped beneath her thong and dragged it down her legs. He delicately pried the garment off, untangling it when it snagged on her heels. Spike's grip then moved to her strappy ankles. "I like these, pet." He gave her a look, danger and sex in a grin. "Might ask you to wear them around the house more often, once I move in."

Her eyes widened even as her heart skipped a beat. Truthfully, that was a nice thought, she'd wear anything he wanted her to if it lead to kissage and that smile, but his bold suggestion still got her automatically protesting. "Haven't laid claim to me yet, Spike. Or my house."

Those words managed to conjure the beast in him; she saw it the moment his eyes narrowed. He prowled back up her body, tongue pressed tauntingly behind his teeth when she shivered again. "I'd make it worth your while," he purred.

"I'm sure you would."

His fingers found the buttons on her blouse. "I'm just about set up here anyway, love. All that's left is a few books and things, personal knick-knacks."

Buffy's voice was breathy as she replied, "Where would they go?"

"Anywhere. The basement, our room, under the floorboards; don't rightly care. I'm not trying to take over decorating privileges of the place. Just want to be with you. Even if I only get to stay because of some she-vamp for now, I'll gladly do it."

He had said "our" room, and that made Buffy's heart feel all aflutter. Before she could speak, he got this glint in his eye, taunting her with a smile full of charm. "Hell, even after she leaves, you might find you're too attached to me to kick me out."

"Ego much?" Though she'd already admitted to herself that was probably true.

"Hopeful, much," he corrected.

And she melted all over again. Yet, amazingly, instead of dissolving into the couch cushions, she managed to sit up and kiss him once more. Her advance started off slow, but Spike was having none of that. He groaned and pressed her body down again, as callused fingers began a steady climb between her inner thighs.

Soon his hand was wedging her legs apart. She allowed herself to give over to sensation, and then he was touching her. The heat in her blood rose. He pulled back to let her breathe, reveling in each gasp that left her lips. "Like fire, you are," he declared. His hand rubbed in a slippery pattern along her cleft, learning her, conjuring tremors that shook her body.

He moved a finger to trace the intimate contours and softness, then delved inside, his own needy desires amplifying themselves and screaming, until she moaned.

Everything went quiet as Spike played her like a finely tuned instrument, his focus centered and remaining wholly on Buffy. She arched her back, panting and wriggling as he kissed her and added more pressure, then less, pulling every lustful sound he could from those sweet lips.

Spike broke away from her reddened neck and smiled softly as her breathing sped up. He kissed her cheek, inhaling the aroma permeating around his head and driving him nuts. She was chanting his name, and he never wanted to hear another being say it but for her. She was everything he'd wanted since the moment he decided his heart needed someone to love, and someone to love him in return. Everything he'd dreamt up, sought, and craved.

Spike nipped at her throat again, helplessly lured back, and then a sensitive spot hidden behind her ear, growling at the way her nails dug into his arms. He roughened his untiring touches, moaning with her. "Come for me, sweetheart," he rasped.

He didn't know how long they'd been on that couch, or how many times his fingers had slid in and out of her scorching body, rubbing playfully and harshly and soft. Spike couldn't even make a guess. His mind was gone, all attention on his mate, and when she groaned his name in sultry release, it was exactly what he'd wanted to hear.

Spike grinned as her breathing very slowly began to calm down. Her chest rose with deep inhales. Lax and pliant as he moved up, pressing a sweet kiss to her swollen lips, Buffy smiled at him, and he felt drunk.

He lent down and nuzzled along her jaw line, breathing deeply. Buffy's heart rate was starting to return to normal, but the rest of her felt truly exhausted. The man had good hands, that was for sure.

She assisted in lifting her hips once again as Spike gently pulled her tiny blue thong back into place. She straightened the piece as he turned around to retrieve her skirt, but then Buffy put a halting hand on his shoulder before he could give it to her. "Wait. I.... I want to do something for you."

He frowned, and Buffy guessed he was trying not to assume what she meant, because judging from the bulge in his jeans she knew what the first thing on his mind could probably be.

She rose, then took Spike's hand and led him quietly from the living room, upstairs.

The vampire dutifully followed, too intrigued and aroused to do anything but. In happy contentment, he watched her ass swaying back and forth until Buffy brought him into her bedroom. She let go of his hand only to shut the door.

She turned to him, and Spike felt his mouth run dry. She stood wearing nothing but that blue bit of fabric, a matching bra of lace, and the open white button-up top. A vision as she approached, pressing her lower body against him, calling his hands away from his sides to fit around her waist. She bit her lip before saying, "I didn't want Darla to wake up and find us."

"That's what spurred this move to your bedroom, then?"

She nodded. "And I hope that it's- it's going to... um..."

He waited patiently for her to finish, unable to resist brushing a lock of hair behind her ear when it fell in front of her eyes. That green stare softened on him, and she said, "I want it to become our room."

His undead heart swelled.

"And soon."

The implication of those two words was like a shot of electricity. Spike guided her lips to his, then followed Buffy as she quickly led them backwards onto the bed. He couldn't stop kissing her, tasting every inch of skin from her chin to the curves of her breasts. Buffy worked on his belt buckle, dragging down the zipper on his jeans.

She was a second away from grasping him on the inside of the denim when he stopped her, dragging her fingertips to his mouth and kissing each one. "Not bloody likely, kitten."

She frowned. "Why?"

He looked at that pout and almost said to hell with it, but he cared too much now and didn't intend to risk a loss of control. He would do everything possible to do right by her. "If we go any further than we have, it's going to be done. You'll be mine in every way and blood will be drank before either of us can remember our own names, let alone that we're not supposed to be finalizing things just yet." His thumb brushed her palm. "I don't want it done like that," he said.

"You don't."

"No." He scoffed quietly, murmuring another confession. "Maybe at the beginning, I would've taken it, but now things have changed."

"They have?" Her brow furrowed deeply.

"Quite a bit, pet."

The simple admission flowed through her mind, then Buffy felt a thousand butterflies suddenly burst into flight in her stomach. She sighed, and knew she must look like a love-struck moron as she stared at him, but still managed to say, "I- I read somewhere that... that fooling around was hard. That without the claim finished, we wouldn't be able to control ourselves from going all the way through with it."

He nodded, bringing a hand to her face and cupping her warm cheek. He was poised above her, eyes of blue looking down with longing and open sincerity. "That's what I'm trying to avoid. I- Christ, Buffy I crave you more than I crave blood, and it isn't just because of the claim."

She gulped, and he continued. "However, making you regret this is not any kind of a beginning. I'm an impatient bugger, not about to deny it, but I don't want that to cause problems later. I might not have realized it, or cared much before, but I-" He stopped and seemed to gather something like courage or a similar emotion, before swallowing and adding, "I want to give you what you want. What you deserve. So I'll wait."

Buffy sat speechless, her heart beating surprisingly steady as she stared at him. His fingers were turning in little circles on her chest, calming and exciting her at once. The air in the room felt depleted, and her vision began to blur until she remembered to blink. She inhaled deeply, and felt a divine sense of peace.

Buffy was pleased with her fate for the first time. A sensation like contentment arrived, because her mate had found her. It was incredible and outstandingly sudden; it was long past overdue.

"What do we do until then?" After the words were out of her mouth, she couldn't believe she'd said them. But the fire in her gut remained, and the promise of fortitude from the vampire in her bed warmed her heart. She may be cautious, but she held her share of impatience, too.

Spike grinned, a very pleased expression on his face. "Anything that'll make you more open to the idea of letting me claim you."

She inadvertently pouted."I tried that and you pulled my hand away."

"Not because I fancied the move, love, I'll be honest."

She nodded. "Okay." Shyly meeting his gaze, Buffy chewed her bottom lip and asked, "Kiss me again?"

There was that grin that she loved. Spike leaned over her, and pressed his cool mouth to hers. Slowly, like wet silk his tongue teased her lips apart, moving inside to taste and indulge. His hands fondled and played with her body, a shamelessly possessive touch on her skin. Buffy stroked his naked back, traced the ridges of his shoulders and arms. Her eager hands trailed up his abdomen, counting and memorizing the channels. Soothing fingers gentled over jagged scars that she found, and she arched for him when Spike squeezed her ass and tugged her yet closer.

Greedy touches and throaty moans, sighs and heated kisses. They stayed in Buffy's bedroom for quite some time, laughter shared with lust. They were both acting like teenagers, but there was something to be said for young love; and closeness was a new thing for both of them, and it was so sweet a treasure.

"Wait. Did you hear that?"

Spike pulled back from marking a hickey on her chest, frowning. "Hear what?" He could barely concentrate on anything except for her.

She frowned. "I thought I heard-"

A knock came at the door and they both looked up. Darla turned the doorknob and came in, but she stopped behind the short length of wall that hid her from the sight of Buffy's bed.

An arm swung into view, and dangling from Darla's hand was Buffy's skirt; the one she had left downstairs, crumpled on the couch- or floor, she couldn't remember. "Remind me never to borrow this," Darla said.

Buffy snorted when she flung the wrinkled skirt at the bed without aiming, and it hit Spike in the forehead. He growled softly after Darla shut the door, and then Buffy couldn't help laughing, even as a blush took up residence on her cheeks.

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END NOTES: I apologize for the awful delay with this chapter! Things have been busy, and I know it's a little short, but the next update is going to be long. I hope you all enjoyed this one, thanks for reading and the reviews! *blows kisses* You're all very awesome for sharing your opinions, I really appreciate it!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Attention! I was reviewing this chapter on December 22nd and realized there was a middle part missing, right after the first "***" and before the sentence "They fell asleep" and I am so annoyed at myself for missing it. I just added the missing part now. If you are rereading this chapter I hope you see this, but I will put it in the next chapter's notes as well. I apologize for this mistake!
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"Why haven't I felt any withdrawal pains since you moved in?"

The abrupt question distracted him from dicing onions. Spike set down the knife and turned his back on the cutting board. "Because I'm here," he explained. "I'm in your home. Even when you go to work, your heart and the claim both know you'll come back to me, and I'll be waiting."

Which had been the case for two weeks now. Two weeks since he had insisted he watch over her while Darla was in town. Two weeks of keeping the curtains shut during the daytime. One week since Spike moved his entire wardrobe into the closet that had once been Buffy's little sister's. Six days since Spike started cooking dinner every night he got to the stove before Buffy did, and Darla started making sure she herself had plenty of errands to run, ninety percent of which Buffy was sure were made up. Five days since Willow had noticed a hickey high up on Buffy's neck that was forgotten by makeup application. Four and a half days of avoiding her boss at work, for the redhead had a plucky drive of curiosity. And one day since Buffy allowed herself to finally admit that Spike was here to stay.

She blew out a breath, and chewed her lower lip. She still wasn't sure whether Spike moving in was the wisest decision of the year, but she couldn't help she wanted him here. She couldn't stop missing him while she was at work, or that she rushed home every day just to see him. The kisses had escalated, but remained of a comfortable, if not frustrating, touch-and-go variety.

She'd finally told Spike that he could bring everything he wanted here, into the house. It was slowly becoming theirs, even if the deed was in her name. He wasn't sleeping in her bedroom yet, but his old place was completely vacated of his possessions as of yesterday.

From the moment she'd gathered all the courage within herself to tell him he could "officially" move in a week ago, Spike had treated her like an angel. Well, he almost always did so, but after she'd given him the green light to bring books, a chest that held numerous weapons, a mini-fridge and an old portable TV into the house, he'd been particularly giving.

The following morning, she'd woken up to the smell of fresh bacon and pancakes. He'd made her breakfast. A sleepy-eyed vampire had stood in her kitchen at eight in the morning flipping flapjacks.

Her life was surreal. He'd draped dark pillowcases over the thin curtains that barely shielded the windows, and squeezed her fresh orange juice to go with her meal, plus coffee. Then, he'd sat down to talk with her while she ate, smiling like a loon as she thanked him, complimented his culinary skills, and tried to keep herself from swooning.

He'd remained the same in every way since she let him stay. However, Spike wasn't demanding in the slightest anymore when it came to the claim. He was comfortable in the house, hardly a nuisance roommate-wise, and incredibly nice to look at. Buffy believed she had made the right choice by letting him move in, it was just her reasonably nervous heart that told her she might be wrong.

The decision did get Darla on her case about finalizing the claim. "Just commit, already. This isn't the Bachelorette, and if it was, Spike would kill off his competition. You may as well just take what you want," she'd once said.

Buffy rolled her eyes at the memory. Her whole life was Spike centric; the least her best friend could do was distract her from the concept of a supernatural marriage to a supernatural being. But no, Darla was a vampire herself, and encouraged Buffy to go ahead and make with the bitey bonding.

She didn't need encouragement. She needed solid ground.

Of course, the steadiest platform she could receive, in life and in a man, looked to be Spike.

Buffy frowned as she watched him throw a bunch of chopped vegetables into a pan of already steaming garlic. Noodles boiled in a pot to the right, and the whole kitchen smelled delicious. He was an enigma. She never would have guessed he'd be the kind to cook, especially considering he didn't eat human food. All Spike needed was blood, and still he played chef because her body required sustenance of a different sort.

He was thoughtful, caring, protective; intelligent, vigilant and cocky. Rash, demanding, patient, impatient. The vampire was a ludicrous combination of blazing emotions and consideration; a lover teamed with a greedy demon. She couldn't have imagined being tied to someone like him before she'd met him. Perhaps, that was because she never could have dreamt up such a person.

"Love?" Spike asked, "You want to grab me the chili pepper?"

A wave of domestication hit her; she located the spice and brought it to his side. He leaned down and kissed her softly, lingeringly on the lips, before taking the little shaker from her hands. "Thank you."

*An enigma, alright,* she thought, and rested her head against his shoulder as he stirred things.

***

It was Saturday night when Buffy picked up the ringing telephone. "Hi, Faith."

"How'd you know it was me?" The chipper lady replied.

"You always call me between six and eight on Saturdays."

"Hmm. Didn't know consistency was a talent I had."

Buffy smiled. "So, how've you been?"

"Five by five," she answered predictably. "How does a night of dancing and making guys drool sound, B?"

Buffy threw a glance towards the living room, where the sounds of a cop TV show murmured in the distance; Spike was waiting for her to return. "Sorry, but tonight's no good."

"Oh jeez, c'mon Buffy you haven't come out in forever. The Bronze is beginning to miss your freaky dance moves."

She smiled. "I'm sorry, Faith. Something's kind of come up."

"He better be hot."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Why do you think there's a guy?"

"There're only a few things I connect with the word 'up.' "

"Well, it isn't that. I-"

"So there isn't a guy?"

"No, there is one, but he-"

"Well, when do I get to meet this hunk of sexiness that's keeping you home on the weekends?"

Buffy sighed. "Soon. But it's... it's kind of serious, and Dawn doesn't even know about him yet."

"So bring him out. I don't mind being the third wheel."

It might have been a good plan if Buffy weren't suddenly hit with a strong possessive desire to keep Spike at home, with her, all to herself. She was more than happy to stay in and watch TV on a Friday night, and the idea of going out dancing- while always one of her favorite pastimes -just didn't entice at the moment.

Buffy didn't wig out anymore over the emotions she kept on feeling towards him; they were getting stronger every day, but had quit scaring her so much at some indefinable point.

Still, she felt a little guilty for choosing time with the vampire over Faith's Bronze idea. Buffy said, "I'm just not in the mood tonight, and I don't know if he would be. We've kind of settled in front of the TV."

"Oh god, you've let him domesticate you!"

"Calm down, Faith," she chuckled. "We're just trying to spend time together alone... figure some things out, ya know?"

"Yeah, yeah. Well, tell this guy that I want my friend back."

Buffy grinned. Talking to Faith about guys always seemed like one of the easiest things in the world. The woman had a man's mentality a lot of the time, and she hardly ever made a big deal about new boyfriends or flings. "Hey," Buffy said brightly, "What if Darla joined you tonight?"

"Darla? Is she back in town? I thought she was in China or something."

"That was a while back. She's visiting; as a matter of fact, she just extended her stay. I think she's headed home from shopping for extra clothes right about now. I bet she'll be up for some Bronze-ing."

"Sweet! I missed that she-devil. When does she leave?"

"The date is undefined."

"Great. Does she have a cell phone on her?"

"No, but I'll-"

The topic of conversation walked through the front door just then, three heavy bags weighing down her arms. Dropping her key, the vampire sighed. Her shopping bags followed the tiny metal object to the ground, and Darla shouted, "I appreciate Sunnydale's mall being open late on a weekend, but you'd think there would be better customer service! I swear to God, this one guy was so rude- I should've eaten him."

Buffy quickly covered the phone with her hand and prayed Faith had lower than average hearing capabilities. "Hang on, she just walked in," she squeaked.

She ran into the front hall and said, "I don't think Faith's going to want to see you if she thinks you'll say hello by biting her, Darla."

The vamp's eyes bugged, shooting from Buffy to the phone. "Damn. Sorry."

"I don't think she heard," Buffy said thankfully, "but you can't come in bellowing like that."

"Excuse me, I don't bellow."

"No, she shrieks like a bleeding banshee."

"Can it, Spike," Buffy admonished. Billy-Idol-of-the-Undead was leaning against the living room archway now. "Just don't mention vampire related stuff without checking out what's going on in the house first, okay Darla?"

"Fine," she agreed haughtily, then extended her hand. "Can I speak to Faith now?"

Buffy gave her the phone, a grin on her lips as she picked up the fallen key and set it on the table to her left, before grabbing the shopping bags. She brought them into the dining room and felt Spike follow while Darla chatted on the phone.

Buffy set the lady's purse aside before delving into the goodies. A couple pairs of pants, a sundress, two tops, and a set of earrings made her findings. Buffy had just finished admiring and putting everything back when Darla hung up the phone.

"Well, I guess you two will have the house to yourselves tonight. Faith and I are going out." She picked the bags up off the table. "I'm taking a shower before I get ready. I should be down by the time she gets here." She turned around to leave, but said one last thing before heading upstairs. "Maybe you guys could put this privacy to good use."

***

They fell asleep. The couch was quite comfortable, after all; even more so when you had a sexy man acting as your pillow, or a beautiful woman as your blanket.

Buffy's head was lying on Spike's arm, and had he been alive she'd be cutting off circulation. He slept soundly while the television murmured noises and voices no more than seven feet away, Buffy's body lax and curled trustingly on top of his.

The two mates lie in peaceful slumber, and it was well past midnight before either of them stirred.

Heat. A truly delightful heat tingled at Spike's fingertips, and soft breathing landed on his neck, teasing him awake.

His hands clenched around her when he opened his eyes. Buffy's petite frame was snuggled against him, and she was sound asleep. Her head rested heavily on his shoulder. Spike didn't want to move, but more than that he didn't want Darla waking Buffy up when the she-vamp returned from her evening out.

Buffy was naturally a night-owl, especially on the weekends, he had learned. She never went to bed before she had to. Currently, however, she was sleeping as deeply as one could, and they'd both dozed off probably within the last two or so hours. If she was tired enough to be out before twelve, he didn't want anything disturbing her.

Very carefully, Spike dragged himself up and climbed from the couch, watching every long limb of his mate's to be sure she didn't fall. Then, he gently picked her up and carried Buffy to the stairs.

He could vault them one at a time, and as nimbly as a light cat. However, he didn't like to chance dropping the woman in his arms, and he enjoyed looking at her. By the time they'd reached the top of the steps, Buffy's nose had twitched once and her mouth moved with a sleepy mumble, but she was still out.

She burrowed deeper against his cold chest, breathing life into him with the trust she exhibited. His head felt very light, like someone had managed to fill it with helium, as he entered her bedroom and set her down.

Loathe to leave her, Spike tucked the sheet he saw in the darkness around her bare shoulders and left a small quilt over her knees and feet. Slowly, like the sun into the ocean, he descended and stretched out, making no more noise than a reflection.

He gently wrapped an arm around her, and sighed when she moved closer to him.

And he watched her. Like a man watches the clock while his wife is in the delivery room, or a woman awaiting their sailor's return watches the sea; Spike watched Buffy like he was waiting for her.

And he was, every minute of every second. There was always a new laugh to be released for her wit, or a snarky quip to be heard or given. He was quickly becoming addicted. Her smiles were alive in ways he could never be, except for when he was with her.

Spike's hold around her tightened. He heard a clock tick by in the room, and even as its pure existence told the truth and exposed evidence of the short time he had spent with Buffy Summers, he found himself in this position. He found himself already halfway through cutting wind and black clouds, meandering towards the eye of the storm.

He was falling in love again, and Spike hadn't the will to stop such a descent. He hadn't known to try the first time, and now he'd been gifted with a woman who could drown him even though he did not need air, and still he'd only gasp her name.

Spike breathed in her scent, nuzzling into a wealth of golden hair. The whole house was empty of any other creature, and he'd never been so utterly at peace before. For one clear moment, he was grateful. The Powers That Like to Inter-bloody-fere could have shacked him up with a chit he never would have grown to even like, but he'd gotten Buffy.

He couldn't wait until she let him in. He prayed for it like he might pray for the sunlight not to burn.

His fangs itched all the damn time. Going out to retrieve blood was harder when he saw people out, for his irate demon seethed inside. It understood that hurting anyone was against the rules now, but impatience warred with knowledge, and it all only aggravated his beast. But Buffy held the cards, and he was happy to have her.

A woman was ever the only way in which Spike was willing- content even -to give up power over himself. The Powers might have known that, he figured. Didn't matter why to him anymore, and never really had... because Buffy did.

***

She awoke with a flutter of lashes, and looked up at him with those big green eyes. He could tell it was hard for her to see, as the light from the four AM moon didn't do much to illuminate the room. Spike, however, could make out every expression clearly. His hand moved as if through water when he brushed hair off of her cheek, and she let out a relaxed sigh. "Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we in my bedroom?"

He nodded despite her current blindness. "Moved you up here a while ago. We both fell asleep on the couch but I didn't want you to wake up so I-"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he murmured, a soft smile coming to his lips. "Didn't want to leave. Do you mind I'm in your bed?"

She shook her head after a long few seconds, and said, "No." She snuggled closer, tugging the sheet higher for both of them. "I don't know why I woke up. I'm still tired."

Her pliant limbs wrapped about him, ankles aligned with his calves, and hands like wands that kept him immobile because he refused to muss the magic. "I just heard Darla come in." His voice was suddenly hoarse. "You might've heard her, too, or sensed it."

Buffy thought on that for a moment. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Nearly four."

She blinked wide. "That's really late, even for her. I know she's a vampire, but it's not normal for Darla to stay out until the sun comes up- Though, I wouldn't doubt Faith could have persuaded her into it." Buffy also wouldn't bet against the odds of Darla permitting time to the two mates who weren't mated yet.

"Maybe that's it then," Spike said.

"Maybe."

"You can talk to her tomorrow and find out."

"I will." Buffy moved even closer to him. "Umm... do vampires get hot? Like, does my body heat make you uncomfortable?"

Her sudden whispered question made Spike grin, though he did nothing to show it, and held in a chuckle. The warmth from her was sweet and he loved it. "No, pet, vamps don't care much about temperature."

"Okay. Good," she mumbled, then relaxed into him fully again. Slowly, the beat of her heart regained a mystifying rhythm which got every nerve ending in Spike's body humming. He felt content as her breathing blew calmly and evenly onto his throat; the restless demon inside him let out a growly yawn of defeat.

Spike's inner poet, his humanity, could lie like this forever and nothing more. No sunsets would be missed and no sunrises avoided; he wouldn't care enough to remember such things existed. With Buffy in his arms, the world melted away and Spike didn't try to hang onto it.

However, his vampire nature, while calmed, was still wildly avid and focused. It was never wholly satisfied and wouldn't be until Buffy was officially his. Spike believed the demon side of him was falling for the woman, but demons loved differently than men.

To love one's mate was the truest luck. Not every vampire found their other half and nothing could guarantee love, not even a claim. However, right now, Spike's demon quieted. His gums quit burning as the unbeating heart lying inside his dead chest took its first breath.

It had waited so long to feel like this.

***

The sound of rain woke her up later on. She half dreamed about sitting in a moving car, droplets hitting the rooftop. She had been riding in the backseat, hair and a set of shoulders the only thing she could see of the driver. She knew it was her father in that unquestionable way dreams permitted, a sign of proof they were in fact yours. Then, she'd realized it was his old Audi they rode in. The storm outside the smudgy windows seemed louder than her own voice, but she couldn't be sure, because she hadn't spoken once in the dream before her father started to turn his head to face her, and then Buffy woke up.

She sighed, staring at Spike fixedly now, trying to shake away the dream. His eyelashes drew her focus, for they were long and dark and thick. Any girl would envy those things, and the way they shadowed his high cheekbones.

He had such a beautiful face, and thinking about the softness of his harmless expression made her ache inside. She felt the claim stir and moan, like it sometimes did, urging her to tell Spike she wanted it complete. That she wanted him.

Buffy knew she was close to doing it, too. The claim was pushy, that was true enough, and her heart seemed to be fighting with her head in underhanded ways, always making her notice the little things that Spike did for her. The vampire had a cute habit lately of washing dirty laundry before she got home from work- Not just his laundry.

Now Buffy was no dummy, and figured at least part of his motive had to do with getting a look at her undergarments; Spike could be impatient, after all. Yet still, he did her laundry when he could.

She had a protective, superhuman, gorgeous man that wasn't afraid to help out around the house. It was like she was living in a fantasy world sometimes, experiencing many women's idea of a dream.

Buffy was truly starting to see the good things that came from this fate. Before, she could think only of the choices ripped from her hands. Lately, she kept stumbling upon the feeling of indebtedness, because Spike had been the one chosen for her; she could have been stuck with anyone.

Her heart skipped when he moved. A grumble, then a lip smack, and he was quiet once more. She released a breath.

She was in deep trouble with this man, and yet, for the first time ever, Buffy found herself nearly unwilling to care.

***

The rain had gotten heavier over the hours. Birds were chirping quietly in the distance, but she could only tell after she opened the window and closed her eyes to listen. The pitter-patter of droplets on sidewalk cement and lush grass calmed her senses.

Buffy enjoyed the smell and sound of a thunderstorm. She pulled her face out of the kitchen window, smiling like a sleepy cat. She had gotten out of bed to use the bathroom, then gone downstairs to put on some coffee before heading back up to Spike.

He was still in bed, quiet and unmoving, when she got there. *Dead to the world,* she thought with a little smirk. The dim three PM light from behind the curtains crawled across the floor, only a few inches away from the window. The house was peaceful, like it was sleeping along with the vampires inside. She knew Darla wouldn't wake up for hours, but Buffy still wanted to talk to her.

Not quite as much as she wanted to crawl back into bed with Spike, though. Buffy toed off her slippers, walking to the side she had vacated ten minutes before, and slipped under the sheet. She was wide awake, but that didn't stop her from jolting when Spike murmured, "Welcome back, love."

"You were up?"

"Heard you tinkering about the kitchen."

" 'Tinkering?' Seriously?"

He pulled her closer, those bright blue eyes finally opening to stare warmly into hers. "You opened a window, that's all I know."

"Surprised you could even tell what room I was in," she mumbled.

"I don't know where you were before you made it to the kitchen. Wasn't up. Unless, of course, you went straight there after deserting me."

"I didn't desert you, Mr. Dramatic."

He smirked gently, his cheeks hollowing out just a little. "I woke up alone; think that's a perfectly reasonable way of putting it."

"I came back, so no, 'deserting' isn't a reasonable word at all."

"What would you call it?"

"Nature," she declared.

"What?"

"I had to go to the bathroom."

"Oh."

"Yeah, see," she poked him fondly, right in the chest, "no deserting."

Spike inhaled needlessly, smiling at her like maybe she was perfection, and he couldn't believe he'd found it. Her pulse did a wild, clumsy sort of dance beneath her skin before he pulled her halfway on top of his body. She felt his lips press softly to the crown of her head, and she sighed. "You're very comfy."

"Is that why you came back up here and didn't abandon me in favor of the rain?"

"Are you going to get off it, Spike?" She turned her face to see him smiling still. "You just like arguing, don't you?"

"Only with you," he quipped, though something honest settled in the creases by his eyes. "You're gorgeous when you're all fiery and riled."

She didn't know how to reply, because it was sort of a compliment. Eventually, Buffy said, "Aren't I a little prettier when I'm smiling?"

"You blind me when you're smiling."

She blinked. Her heart suddenly began doing the Macarena and all air left her lungs in a quiet rush. She could just gather her wits quickly enough to look away and thank him.

He was faster. "But a man likes a bit of variety every now and then."

Her eyes flew up and he started to laugh after she swatted him. The tension left, but fondness stayed and sidled up right next to intimacy.

"Are you still tired?" Buffy asked him.

"Not really. But I don't exactly want to leave your bed either."

So they didn't. They stayed in each other's arms and the bed for a peaceful while, no rush to go anywhere or do anything. They chatted quietly, bathed in a sense of solitude with one another; the world outside could have disappeared without either of them hearing a thing. They shared a comfort that not many people knew existed or could even understand.

Time passed and the rain remained, still pattering on the roof like an impatient visitor might knock on the door. At one point, Buffy stripped and changed into a T-shirt and cotton pajama shorts, and Spike wasn't asked to leave the room or turn away. The woman shared with herself a secret smile.

Needless to say, the kissing session which followed threatened to fog up some windows.

***

It was nearly six o'clock when Darla made her way downstairs. Buffy was in the kitchen, having a soda while reading over papers related to the auction house, and waiting for Spike to return from his blood run.

Darla's normally bright eyes and glowing appearance were dull, wilting. Purple shadows that spoke of a sleepless night stood out on the places beneath her eyes.

Buffy frowned at her friend before turning to get one of the remaining bloodbags out of the refrigerator. "Well, you look real perky. Did you and Faith drink a little too much last night?"

Darla sat on a stool by the island, muttering, "Yeah. Drank too much." She sighed. "I don't want any blood."

Buffy's brows drew together. "Last I checked, vampires weren't famous for that." She closed the fridge door and sat across from her friend. "Is something up?"

It was days like this, the calm quiet ones, where everything seemed right, that Buffy often discovered other things were going wrong. It was like the world's way of reminding her it was still around, and dreams and happiness were partners with things like despair and confusion. The Earth was bright and soft, blindingly beautiful and yet drab, too. It was a harsh and sweet place, like cinnamon paired with lemon juice. There had been a time when Buffy lost the ability to see the good things and was beaten down daily by the wrongs. Today was no longer that day, and she took life in stride. She worked to accept the good things as blessings and the bad ones as lessons; it was something her mother had tried to teach her for a very long time.

Now, looking at Darla's solemn, shying eyes, Buffy knew there was something wrong. Her heart felt like it'd been blissfully tucked away in a soft cushy bed for the good part of the day, and yet the world around her had kept moving, as it always did, and spun Darla around with it.

The vampire didn't meet her eyes, just stared down at her restless fingers. Buffy sensed now might be a good time for coffee, and rose to get it started when Darla's voice made her stop.

"After Faith and I separated last night," Darla said, "I was walking to my car, and I heard something going on in one of the alleys behind the Bronze." She paused, and Buffy noticed how her eyes suddenly appeared so incredibly gray. The possibilities of what could cause Darla's vibrancy to fade like drapes in the sun made Buffy's nerves tingle unpleasantly; she crossed her legs and settled on her stool. "I'm guessing your curiosity got the better of you?"

"You could say that," Darla replied. "I followed my instincts. I smelled blood, so I ran for it. There was a woman being drained by a vampire, squirming and fighting, and I- I didn't know what to do."

Buffy's heartbeat quickened. She was a little scared to ask for more details, but the look on Darla's face urged her nonetheless. "What happened?"

"I- I," she stuttered, swallowing down her regrets in order to relay the tale. "I grabbed a piece of wood off the ground- I think it was from a broken crate or something. And I staked him. One of my own." Confusion added itself to her pinched expression. "It felt strange, but not bad. Then the woman, she started thanking me. Like I was God or something." A bitter chuckle rose in her throat.

"She thanked you for saving her life," Buffy reiterated. "That doesn't seem like a bad thing."

"No. But then I saw her neck, and smelled the fresh blood. Before she could say another word, I was drinking it up."

Buffy's stiff silence made Darla finally look up. Shocking white, a disbelieving expression had cemented itself onto the woman's face. Darla inwardly cringed. "I didn't finish it."

"D-Didn't finish what?" Buffy swallowed hard and looked away, needlessly trying to calm her pulse. The thumping in her wrist and temples seemed to be at jackhammer speed, and it was all she could do to concentrate on her friend. Her friend who had just knocked the wind out of her with one little story.

"The woman." Darla curled her long fingers together, entwining them into a double-backed fist on the counter. "I pulled away when I realized that I was killing her. Her pulse was barely there when I ran to the hospital..."

Buffy scowled. "Hospital?"

Darla nodded. "I dropped her off. Said I found her in an alley, and I didn't know if an animal had attacked her or what." She shrugged. "Humans always buy that crap."

"Especially in Sunnydale," Buffy muttered to herself. Darla's eyes met hers in surprise; it was almost like she'd forgotten that her friend was actually in the room.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Buffy's hand fell loudly onto the countertop. It landed beside Darla's stiff fingers, and she pressed her lips together before moving her palm to rest over the cold, elegant hands.

The vampire tensed, but Buffy said, "Has something like this happened before?"

Darla's lips were pinched so harshly they appeared white. It took her a full minute to say, "I've killed people before. Before I really got a hold on this being a vampire deal."

Buffy closed her eyes as the waves ran through her; disappointment, delirious shock, anger, and some nausea. The last was the first to abate, followed by the disappointment, and then shock was the only thing left.

Darla wasn't human. Her conscience was there only for certain people, not the general public. Buffy realized that it had to have taken more than mere strength to yank herself away from the fresh blood of that innocent woman, but somehow, Darla had done it. Despite her lack of a soul, she cared about something in a way that helped her control her demon instincts.

Buffy suddenly wondered what that something might be. Darla wasn't human, but she wasn't entirely monster, either, despite having done some bad things in the past. It didn't sit well with Buffy knowing Spike might lose control, but she accepted him, accepted his monstrous past, still felt herself falling in love with him-

Her grip on Darla's hands tightened, and though the lady couldn't possibly be hurt by the hold, it drew her notice. Her gray-blue eyes looked up and rested attentively on Buffy's face. "Are you alright?"

Buffy shook her head, and glued her focus onto Darla again. Right. Darla. Almost killed somebody. Must stay on track. Comfort and try to understand; no time to worry about tethered heartstrings. "Did you call the hospital?" she managed to say.

The vampire stared at her in an acute way for a moment, then simply nodded. "Yes. The woman's fine. I remembered to check her wallet for a license before I gave her jacket to one of the nurses, so I called a little while ago and asked about her condition."

Buffy nodded her head. She stood up to... make some coffee, and do anything else that might keep her mind busy while simultaneously focused on Darla, when the she-vamp said, "I'm not ever going to be normal. I know that's disappointing."

Buffy froze, scowled as the words sunk in, and then turned around with her hands on her hips. "You're not disappointing," she said distinctly. Though she had felt that very emotion upon hearing what happened last night, Buffy would hardly call Darla disappointing. "You're smart, you're my best friend, and you're strong. God, Darla, you don't have any obligation as a vampire to ignore the demon inside you; I get that. It's hard for me to swallow sometimes, because I'm human, but I know that the world isn't black and white here."

The astonishment on Darla's face would have been amusing if Buffy wasn't trying to make a point to her. "Spike's a killer, and he doesn't regret anything he's done, and he'd still be doing it if he thought I'd be okay with it." Buffy's spine stiffened, and her chin rose as she gulped down some unsettling realizations. "He stopped because he knew I wouldn't be. He might slip up in the future, and maybe he won't. With the claim it might be easier for him to deal, I don't know. What I know is his intent. He intends not to hurt innocent people anymore, or be... villainous. That's all I can ask of him, and he made the decision to be good before I ever asked him to be."

Darla frowned, her eyes speaking messages and pleas all at once. "I'm not Spike," she said.

Buffy didn't miss a beat. "Which makes me wonder how you managed to pull back from that woman in the alley at all."
The vampire was silent, self-hatred dimming in light of her friend's words, and even acceptance. The guilt was still there, Buffy could see, but so was something else; a restoration of faith in her own abilities.

The phrase, "You're only human," abruptly came to mind, but Buffy had to smile and brush the untrue statement aside. "You're only a vampire," just didn't seem like it would make Darla feel any better, so Buffy simply asked, "Now, what about some coffee?"

Darla's eyes looked a little brighter than they had before as she nodded.

Buffy got up again to make the coffee, and Darla followed to help. It ended up that Buffy was pushed aside and Darla put the pot on, telling her to sit down and finish her soda. She had just claimed her stool once again when her friend mentioned Spike having spent the night somewhere other than Dawn's old bedroom.

"Oh, so you noticed that."

"I notice everything." She threw a look over her shoulder. "Which you should know by now."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "We were just sleeping."

"You should also know by now that I'm not stupid."

There was a knock at the front door, and Buffy's laughter carried with her as she left the room to answer it. "Well, you know what they say when you 'assume' things!" she shouted back.

"And a hickey says a thousand words, just like a picture!"

Blushing red, Buffy was throwing a hand up to her decorated neck when she pulled open the front door, the sound of her footfalls suddenly coming to a dead stop. Her heart froze with the wind, and the room depleted to nothing more than a blur as her attention focused acutely, painfully, on the person standing there.

"Dad?"

____________________________
END NOTES: So I suck, and I'm sorry, I know this chapter should have been up sooner. I wanted it to be but there has been a lot of work lately with the holidays coming up, but I promise not to leave this story hanging and I really hope you people who have stuck with it this far continue to read and I also hope you enjoyed this latest update. Please let me know what you think, and thanks so much for reading! *huggles*
(P.S. I'm hoping to get another chapter up no later than in 4 weeks, but I can't promise. This time of year is so busy, and I apologize, but I will not leave this story hanging! So long as my fingers work, it will be written and will have an ending!) Happy holidays everyone!

(NOTICE-added Dec. 22, 2014) Attention! I was reviewing this chapter and realized there was a middle part missing, right after the first "***" and before the sentence "They fell asleep" and I am so annoyed at myself for missing it. I just added the missing part now. If you are rereading this chapter I hope you see this, but I will put it in the next chapter's notes, as well. I apologize for this mistake!

ATTENTION! I was reviewing the last chapter ("What Matters") and realized there was a middle part missing, right after the first "***" and before the sentence "They fell asleep." and I am so annoyed at myself for missing it. I added the missing part back in. It is not a long portion but it is rather important for the flow of the chapter, so I'd recommend reading that part again. I apologize for my mistake!
__________________________________________________

The air in her lungs must have depleted. No, it wasn't there at all. She lost it as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and the room disappeared; she became aware of nothing but the man in front of her.

He had lodged a knot in her throat, and damaged her heart many times over the years, and now it seemed he'd gained the ability to steal oxygen from her body, as well.

"Buffy," he drawled. "It is so good to see you."

And just like that, the burning started behind her eyes. The telltale, physical sign of tears. She refused to cry in front of him, for him, ever again. This was not happening, and still, Buffy asked, "What are you doing here?"

That gravelly sound couldn't be her voice, could it?

Hank Summers, absentee father to her and Dawn, ex-husband of her mother, smiled warmly, kindly, and Buffy wanted to gag. "Does a father need an excuse to visit-"

"You are not a father." Buffy couldn't help saying it; it was a reaction.

He looked hurt, and she felt a small pang at the bottom of her heart, despite every impulse she had to hit the man. She removed her white knuckled grip on the doorknob and crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"Like I said, I wanted to see you."

"You saw. Now leave," Buffy snarled. She'd long since refused to give her father a second chance when he never came to her mother's funeral. She had imagined him returning to Sunnydale one day, repentant and maybe even crying, begging to be let back into her and Dawn's lives. Buffy had also realized that those fantasies were just that, fantasies. Hank had left and refused to return, and she wasn't going to beg him or cry for him any longer. She'd grown up just fine without a father.

However, he had returned. He was here, looking distinguished and smart in a dark suit with no tie, and clean, polished shoes. His smile was white and though his hair looked a little thinner, the man was healthy and... determined. She wanted to slam the door in his face.

Instead, Buffy stood there, silent and coldly glaring, her heart stubbornly beating at a jackhammer rate. Hank sighed, looked down at his expensively clothed feet, and said, "Buffy... I know I haven't been around for you... for Dawn. I know I've made mistakes. I'd like to try and fix them."

"Fix? Fix?!" Her eyes blazed and she found herself moving forward before a second idea could overcome the urge to shove him back. Her arms moved him about two feet away, and then she was stepping over the threshold with stubborn tears leaking from her hardened green eyes. "You cannot fix abandonment, Hank! You can't fix years of missing somebody who never should have left."

His eyes softened, and the pity in them made her cringe. "Oh Buffy... You've just always been so stupid."

More like something she would have heard in a nightmare coming from her father's mouth, even now, those words made her pause. "What?"

He shook his head and chuckled, sounding almost pleased.

Then he grabbed her. He seized her arms, harsh pain slicing into her muscles as he swung her around and into a shadowy area on the front porch. "So very stupid. And needy, and weepy. I didn't want you, or your sister, or that awful woman you called a mother. And I hardly want anything to do with you now."

The verbal hits didn't have time to connect or harm. She hated him, purely, undiluted, for one whole second, before the shift in his eyes made fear shiver through every bone in her body.

Darla was unique looking, if not frightening; wicked. Spike had a beauty about his fangs, even if they were outlined by viciousness. Hank Summers had bright, angry incisors, short and awful. The dim light of the moon highlighted his ugly face, and her scream echoed all around the quiet front yard.

Until Darla's somewhat familiar growl tore through the air, just as Buffy's knee connected violently with Hank's groin, and he let out a howl of pain. Then, he was thrown from the front porch, and hit the sidewalk with an angry thud.

Darla yelled, "Get inside!" and tried to grasp Buffy's arm to haul her through the front door, but Buffy was faster, already back in the house before Darla could even blink.

She was the one to grab the she-vamp and drag her back into the front hall. Darla growled, staring at the man standing up from the sidewalk.

Buffy's jaw was clenched so hard it hurt, and adrenaline raced through her veins, making her want to charge into the man she'd once thought of as her dad. Now, he was dead.

The look he gave her from the front yard could only be described as pure evil hatred, and it was directed at her.

"What do you want me to do, Buffy?" Darla murmured in a deadly tone, just as Hank started to turn and sprint away. There was no doubt that he, most likely, wouldn't stay gone for long.

"Nothing. Let him go," Buffy said, and held onto her friend's arm while her own muscles refused to relax. *And pray that he won't come back.*

***

Spike stomped down the damp pavement, moving along the dimly lit street to Buffy's house. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd done, and it was eating at him, strangling his insides in an uncomfortable vise, making him shudder.

He'd saved a girl. A pretty young woman who'd been caught off guard, and brought behind a gas station by a hungry vampire posing as a homeless person.

That vampire was now dust.

Spike groaned. The stupid chit, falling for that lame hobo routine. Many vamps pulled it, and many worse examples of the human species, too. Spike had never done it himself, of course, always preferring to lure women in other ways to their... death.

He shook his head again. He didn't like that feeling, the one that came with remembering his killing days. They hadn't ended so long ago, and he recalled the taste of fresh human blood in his mouth, running down his throat like sweet, rich wine... But with the memories came the idea of Buffy's face if she'd seen, and what she would think and feel if he ever did it again.

The claim urged him to protect her from any and all discomfort, harm, and stress. However, his demon- despite the connection to a human -wanted blood. Spike didn't care. He'd told Buffy the truth when he explained that the claim would not allow him to hurt people anymore, because it would hurt her. However, he could try to get her to adjust (though he didn't believe he'd succeed), and hell, there were even ways of feeding and then releasing his hunts, but he didn't... He didn't want Buffy looking at him with disappointment.

He didn't want Buffy disgusted at the idea of touching him. The past deaths and blood and violence and torture made him unworthy of even her glances, but he was hers and she was his. Spike knew she hated what he'd done, and didn't like to think about it, but she asked and he told and she was still here.

He knew that without their connection she might not let him kiss her and hold her at night. If the claim didn't exist and she'd seen the things he'd done to people, then being with Buffy would be nothing but a pipedream.

However, she was intelligent, kind and loving and fair. The woman had once said she knew he was a monster, but she also knew that he was a predator. There was a difference, and he had no reason to be something different then what he was. Buffy believed that him having no conscience was as common as a tail on a cat or the arrangement of a zebra's stripes; simply a characteristic of the animal.

She was surprisingly unbiased, even though human. She was the prey. A rabbit for a wild dog.

Just like the girl he'd saved tonight.

His demon howled inside. Bloody hell, why had he saved a random stranger? Why had he bothered? Or cared?

*Because Buffy would be disgusted to know you had walked away.*

He sure as fuck didn't plan on telling her about the rescue. That was a secret he'd be keeping. He was still the Big Bad, after all. He couldn't make Buffy expect good deeds from him now.

Of course, Spike couldn't say he'd change what he'd done tonight, or that he would never do something like it again.

He shook the annoying memories aside, focusing instead on his mate's home in the distance. He was close and he already missed her, even though the demon (contradictory bastard) was only just beginning to grumble. Spike wanted to see her, scent her, feel her skin.

Upon walking up the front steps, he got a funny feeling, the kind that made your nerves all stand alert, and paused your feet. The kind that had Spike tilting his head and honing his senses.

A moment later, he'd run inside and directly to Buffy, every bone in his dead body hot and unsettled. Darla was fuming in the living room, while his mate sat on the couch looking tired and like she'd been crying.

Spike sped forward and dropped the bag of blood he'd acquired from a butcher in town; pig's was better than nothing. He'd rather go without, though, if it meant he'd have been here when another vampire had gotten close to his mate.

"It was- It was my dad."

He went to envelope her in his arms; Buffy flinched away and he tried to ignore the sensation that a knife was slicing through him. "H-He was a vampire," she whispered.

"More a bastard than when he was human," Darla snarled. "Never thought that was possible."

Spike looked at Buffy's ashen face, the lost look in her eyes sending anger and helplessness through him. He'd learned about her dad being absent from her life, but he didn't push to know the details just yet. Buffy would tell when she was ready, Spike figured. Now, all he cared about was her father's location so he could kill him.

No, he couldn't do that. Not unless Buffy gave the go-ahead. Except he might have to, to protect her. If her father had showed up here, the most likely cause was-

"He wanted to kill me."

The quiet admission, the look of heartbreak on her face, and Spike was hauling her into his arms even as she fought to be free. "I'm sorry."

She squirmed and wriggled, and protested his embrace until his throat went tight and he let her go. She stood like he'd been constricting her, and wiped her face with her arm. "What do you have to be sorry for?" she said. "It's not your fault my father tried to- tried to- I mean I know he didn't want anything to do with me or my sister or my m-mom, but to try and-"

"He's not human, Buffy. He's turned into a monster, now," Darla reiterated for the third time.

"And what are you?!" Buffy pointed, and then to Spike. "And you?! You don't- You both are not- NOT like him. He HATES me, and wants to kill me."

"He's not going to," Spike growled.

"How are you going to stop him?!" Buffy yelled, her eyes welling up and starting to sting. "Kill him?"

"If I have to."

"You can't." She shook her head and slammed her eyes shut, bringing a shaky hand to her forehead. "God, even after all he's done I still can't wish him dead."

Darla wore an expression that said she sure could. Spike turned, and stared at the woman he called his own. He searched for words that would comfort her, bring her peace. He was as lost as she. "Buffy, he isn't the man you knew."

"He's my father."

"No, he isn't. He's changed. He's a demon, and nothing else. Most vamps are," Spike explained.

"Oh, right." Buffy rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "But you and Darla aren't. I just got lucky. How do you both care, when my own father couldn't?" They were silent, and she cried, "How does that make sense?"

The vampires looked helplessly at each other, both feeling the same need to reassure, and prove their separate but equally genuine devotions. Neither could. The human they loved had just been betrayed in the final way by her own flesh and blood; there was no fixing that.

Buffy's father, one of their kind, had taken a sledgehammer to new relationships, and doubt had never gotten such a large crack to slip through.

***

Her tears and reddened eyes could make a clown return the favor of weeping a river. She looked so pathetic, Buffy thought, as she stared at herself in the mirror. She had run into the bathroom to get away, get some space, and here she was reliving the terror of seeing her dad with fangs. Fangs that had gone for her throat.

She couldn't stop picturing it, and her heart fought itself beneath the heaviness of her chest. She wanted Spike, and needed him, but still she remained fearful of having him hold her again.

Too bad. "Buffy!" He banged on the door; she'd only been in the bathroom for maybe ten minutes at the most. "Buffy! Let me in!" he shouted in his rough cockney tone. She had noticed that it got more pronounced when he was upset. "I'm not going to bloody eat you, you hear me?! Or anyone else!"

She rolled her eyes. "I-I'm not scared that you will!" She wasn't, truly. She was just scared that he would come to hurt her heart, and that all she'd believed him to care for her wasn't really there, that it was just a lie.

"Then come out!"

"Spike, will you please just leave me alone!" She leaned against the sink, turning on her reflection.

She heard voices murmur outside. Then, "Oi, alright now Buffy, Darla bloody agrees with me here! We're starting to get along, you've got to come out so the universe can put itself to rights!"

She almost laughed at that one. God knew, that if Darla and Spike ever admitted they actually did get along, the world would implode.

She didn't respond to him, and when she heard footsteps head away from the door, they were Darla's. Her best friend knew when to give Buffy space, even if she didn't want to. Spike knew, too, he just refused to leave.

A part of Buffy was grateful. This was his show of loyalty, of true care and attendance. She could sense him pacing outside the door, and it bothered her that he was scared she was pulling away, even if she was. She didn't want to hurt Spike. He wasn't the one who'd tried to kill her, or who turned her father into a vampire.

Buffy ran her hands through her tangled hair. She hadn't brushed it since getting out of bed earlier... Jeez, it felt like days since she and Spike had lain in her room, relaxed and happy, sharing bits and pieces about one another, learning each other. She felt like she was in a whole different world.

Her dad was dead and a demon now. He wanted to eat her, drain her of her life's blood. Spike wanted to kill him. It was all such a big mess.

The only thing Buffy was grateful for was the knowledge that Dawn was safe from all this stress and worry. Her little sister didn't need or deserve to go through-

"Oh God." Buffy ran. A bang from the door hitting the wall sounded like a starting gun behind her as she went downstairs, Spike following at her heels. His worried expletives and questions went almost unheard.

She picked up the phone and dialed. *Please, let they be okay.*

Spike's hands on her arms were like icicles. She'd never before realized just how cold someone's touch could be, but right now it wasn't the vampire's lack of heat and moving blood, but the chill in her own.

"Xander?"

"Buffy! I was just about to call you."

"Where is Dawn?"

"Actually, she's on her way to your house. Buffy, this might sound kind of crazy, but your dad- He showed up at our house today."

The air left her lungs, but she was still able to say, "He did? When? Is Dawn okay?"

"Yes, she's working this weekend," Xander answered. "I called her right after he left. I-"

"Tell me you didn't let him in, Xander." Her hands tightened on the phone.

"What? No! No, I didn't. He was acting really... direct. And very impatient to see Dawn, too. Funny, since he hasn't cared enough to send her so much as a birthday card since she was fourteen," Xander said bitterly. "I told the asshole I wasn't letting him in, not without Dawn here, and that was it. He left. I called her to tell her what happened, then she said she was going straight to your house after she got off work."

"She was?"

"Yeah, she's taking a cab. You know I usually pick her up but she wanted time to talk with you in private, sister-to-sister stuff."

Buffy sighed. "Does she have her cell phone on her? Or did she forget it again?"

"She left it at home. She always looses it or forgets the thing. This is the fourth one she's had in the last three months."

"You said she's taking a cab here?"

"Yeah, she was going to call me when she got to you."

"Okay. Thanks, Xan."

"No problem. I'll see you both a little later."

"Right. And if my father shows up again, don't let him inside."

Just like that, the weights which had sat on her shoulders evaporated- Nearly. Buffy hung up the phone and sighed. "Dawn, she- she's on her way."

"I heard, love." Spike had figured things out easily. After Buffy started dialing, that was when he'd calmed down, but he knew his mate hadn't. She couldn't until her sister was here, safe and sound.

Buffy nodded. The color that started to return to her cheeks made him feel relief. Spike dropped his hands from her arms and brought one up to caress her warming face as she turned to him. She said, "He went after my sister."

He couldn't reply. He had no words, and the worst part was that he couldn't tell her it wouldn't happen again. Now that her father was a vampire, he'd likely go after Buffy and her sister again. Nearly all vampires tried to cut their ties to the human world once they rose as undead. Spike was an exception to that rule, for he had never wanted to hurt his family or those who'd been kind to him when he was human. It sounded as if Darla was the same. However, most vampires didn't have a problem hating anything that they believed made them weak.

Spike's jaw clenched. He would never let Buffy get hurt by her father. Never. Or let her sister get hurt. The only issue was dealing with the undead dad without losing Buffy's trust, or damaging her heart.

She burrowed into Spike's arms, shivering. She said something quiet, something that sounded heartbreaking before he even asked her to repeat it.

She lifted her eyes up. "I said, 'You would never do that, right?' "

His heart felt like it was twisted in his gut, like a dead weight. "No," he gasped roughly. "Never. How can you think-" His voice hardened. "I would never hurt your sister. I would never hurt you like that."

She shook her head at him, trying to slip away. "If my own... If he could, how am I to expect that you wouldn't-..." Her broken worries tore him apart, and when she tried to step back, Spike held fast. She said, "I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't."

"Damn right I wouldn't." The pain in his voice was clear and badly hidden, but he couldn't help it.

Buffy closed her eyes and let him gather her body closer, despite the tension in her back. The world today was messed up, with Darla's incident concerning the person in the alley last night, and Hank Summers...

And in the whole mess was Spike. He had cared about her, it seemed. He was scared for her now. Buffy couldn't say exactly how she knew, only that she did. It must be a claim thing. That, and his eyes. Those incredibly expressive blue eyes that never fell short when it came to making her heart melt.

Except her head kept shouting alarms, warning her: *If your own dad wanted to kill you because of the change, what's to stop Spike, and even Darla from...?*

*The claim. The claim will stop him. Everything you've learned supports the things Spike has told you.* And Darla nearly broke down today over almost killing a human last night. Spike had gotten every conceivable chance to harm Buffy, and had not once done so, even when he had reasons Buffy could assume were good enough for a serial killer with no conscience.

He was more than that. So was Darla. She just had to accept that her own dad wasn't.

The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut rang in the distance. "Buffy?! Buffy, where are you?!"

Dawn. Buffy sped from Spike's loosening arms, heading directly for the dining room. She plowed right into her sister, and Dawn barely had time to complain before she was wrapped in a protective, if also suffocating, embrace.

It took her a second, but Dawn finally wrapped her long arms around her sister and squeezed tight. "Dad came by the house today," she said.

"I know." Buffy pulled away to look her sister over. "He came here, too."

The sad, unsurprised look in her big blue eyes could easily cause a knotted throat. "Did- Did he say anything... important?"

Buffy judged that by the way her sister had spoken, Dawn didn't really know what could be defined as "important" coming from the man, and honestly, neither could Buffy. The big question, of what to tell Dawn to keep the young woman away from Hank Summers,- if not for emotional safety, then definitely for physical -made Buffy's head spin. She couldn't tell her that Hank had tried to kill her. She...

She might have to. Buffy closed her eyes in sad realization, and fought the tears burning behind them again. Saying it, warning Dawn, made it all so very real. "Dawn, he... he tried to hurt me."

Confusion entered her sister's gaze. Buffy swallowed. "He was... cruel, and bent on really hurting me."

Dawn frowned very hard, her brow line pinching. "Wh- What do you mean?"

"That he's no longer able to be trusted, in any capacity. You can't talk to him, or see him, or let him inside your home. Do you understand me?"

She looked like she was processing, thinking hard and nearly uncomprehending the words and the warning. She believed it, though, for which Buffy was eternally grateful. In the background, Darla stood patiently and quiet, below the archway of the living room, where she had stayed in order to give privacy to Buffy and Spike earlier. Now, she looked sympathetic as she stared at the sisters, and it was another blow to the doubt which had tried to build a wall around Buffy's trust.

"Hey!" Dawn said, despondency gone and replaced by shock. She pointed at Spike who had just entered the dining room, staring at him like he was a sideshow act. He didn't look at Dawn much differently. "You're the guy who helped me earlier!"

Spike suddenly looked as if he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him.
_____________________
END NOTES: ATTENTION! I was reviewing the last chapter ("What Matters") and realized there was a middle part missing, right after the first "***" and before the sentence "They fell asleep." and I am so annoyed at myself for missing it. I added the missing part back in. It is not a long portion but it is rather important for the flow of the chapter, so I'd recommend reading that part again. I apologize for my mistake!

Also, please review!!

Dawn sped by with four quick steps, making Spike back up while an expression of total shock cemented itself on his face. Buffy turned and watched, as first Dawn put her hands on her hips, then Spike swallowed hard enough that his Adam's apple bobbed visibly beneath his pale skin. Was he actually getting paler?

Not possible, but Dawn's presence certainly seemed to upset him. Then, delayed and sharp, her words registered, and Buffy asked, "Helped you?" She frowned and approached her sister. "How did he help you?"

"I- I didn't," Spike stuttered. Both girls looked at him in confusion, Dawn more cynically. Spike lifted his hands and put them behind his head, crossing the fingers as if a police officer had told him to do so. He tried for relaxed and cavalier, but only really managed tense and evasive. "I mean, I was just- just passing through. And-"

"And you helped me," Dawn interrupted. "I was almost dragged off and you-"

"Whoa, wait. What do you mean you were 'almost dragged off?' " Buffy demanded.

"I was going that way," Spike said. "Would've gotten in my way."

Dawn's eyebrows rose. "Me getting attacked would've 'gotten in your way?' That's why you helped me?"

Spike looked between the two women and felt himself sinking. "Not- Not exactly..."

"I didn't think so." Dawn glanced at Buffy, then back to him. "Who are you?"

The room was charged, questions and absolute confusion sparking the air like electricity. Buffy's hands came in front of her, palms facing out in a halting gesture. "Hold on. What happened tonight?"

Silence followed. Spike's lips were glued, but when he did finally decide to open them after a significant pause, Dawn had chosen to push her questions aside in order to answer her sister's. "Well, he saved me."

"How?" The sarcastic query came from behind them, out of Darla's mocking mouth. Buffy scolded her with a glare, but then sent Dawn her own expectant look.

"I was on my way here," she answered, "and told the cab to pull over because I needed to use the bathroom. He pulled into a gas station." Dawn faced Spike once again as she went on. "When I was done, I passed an- an alley to get back to where the cab was waiting for me. A homeless guy was begging for change and I-," she looked down, frowning softly as she tried to remember, "I opened my purse. Then he grabbed me."

Buffy immediately interjected. "Did he hurt you?"

Dawn flashed her a sardonic expression. "Do I look hurt to you?"

Buffy just crossed her arms. "Continue."

"He only had me for a moment. I screamed but he covered my mouth." Dawn took a short breath and her voice lowered. "I didn't even see his face. I just remember him being pulled away from me really fast." She looked to Spike again, "He was holding him back." Her eyes focused, and she spoke clearly this time. "You told me to run."

His jaw was clenched, and his cheeks hollowed; those blue eyes were blocked and guarded when he said, "I did."

"And so," Dawn said, "I ran." She shrugged when she looked at Buffy again. "I got back in the cab and came straight here."

"You don't seem too shook up about it," Spike commented.

Buffy didn't really notice when Dawn replied in an offhand way, or even hear Darla's footsteps approach. All Buffy could see was Spike, and her eyes were fixed in disbelief.

He looked like her attention was the last thing he wanted.

"Anyway," Dawn spoke brightly, "I'm not going to try and figure out why you two seem so adamant about having a staring contest right now. I just want to know who he is," she pointed at Spike, "and how he knows you," then switched her finger on Buffy.

When Buffy shook her head and looked down, Dawn turned around to seek out Darla.

"Hi," the blonde woman said in greeting. "Long time no see."

Dawn abruptly smiled, realizing that she hadn't gotten a chance yet to offer her a polite hello. "It's good to see you Darla." Tilting her head at the two currently locked in a mutually frozen state, she asked, "So, who is he?"

The lady vamp rose one defined brow and opened her mouth, but then pursed her lips together again, unsure of what to say. She looked to Buffy and crossed her arms; Buffy glanced back in return.

It broke the spell. She quickly shook off all the emotions and questions raging through her brain, and focused instead on the light feeling she was experiencing somewhere amongst everything else, in her chest. She cleared her throat, and said, "Dawn, this is Spike."

Her sister's face was comical. " 'Spike?' Seriously?"

The man in question rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break. You're named after the bloody sunrise."

"Whatever." Dawn looked to Buffy again. "Now that I know his... strange name, what's he doing here? How do you two know each other?"

Quiet. Irritating quiet came again, and Dawn had had enough. Before she could explode, Buffy hastily tried to explain. "He's my friend."

She felt his icy blue eyes fixed on her face. It felt like the right thing to say. It seemed the only plausible explanation. She couldn't rightly say he was her boyfriend.

Well, actually...

"Friend?" Dawn asked.

"Boyfriend," Buffy amended, and Spike's gaze must've burned right through her. She stuck with the correction, and took a deep breath. "He's my boyfriend."

Her sister blinked repeatedly, trying to grasp this new information. Then some things began clicking into place, and like always, a trail of questions followed the new realization. "A new boyfriend?"

"Kind of."

"He was heading here when I ran into him earlier, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Buffy answered.

"How did you get here before me if you were on foot?" Dawn asked Spike.

*I'm a vampire with supernatural speed.* He shrugged. "Luck?"

She frowned at that answer, but turned back to Buffy anyway. "Is this why you wouldn't go on the double date with Xander and I?"

"The what?" Spike asked sharply.

Buffy's eyes bulged nearly out of her head. "Yes, but Dawn... The only reason I didn't tell you was- was-"

"Was what?" she demanded. "Buffy, I know you like to have a private life, okay? I just wish you would've felt comfortable telling me that you had a boyfriend."

Oh, crap. Buffy felt guilt tumble down. "It- It's complicated, Dawn."

"It always is." Her sister sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes in her usual way. "You know you can trust me, Buffy. I'm not going to pry too much. I thought I'd proved I quit doing that."

Buffy said, "You did. And it had nothing to do with you. It had to do with..." She looked at Spike, who wore a rigid expression that said she'd be explaining some things later on, then back at Dawn, "us. We're kind of working some things out."

Dawn fidgeted, shuffling her feet and frowning. "Is it serious?" she nearly grumbled.

"Yes."

"Yes."

Buffy and Spike stared at each other after they responded simultaneously, though Dawn had only been addressing her sister. There was fire and determination, a hard edged rigidness in Spike's gaze that spoke words like commitment, ownership, and intent. Buffy's own eyes glowed with vulnerability while tension sat in her shoulders, things that were there mainly due to her recent declaration in front of Dawn, and well, speaking it out loud at all.

"How long have you two been seeing each other?" Dawn asked. She didn't seem to recognize the sparks flying between the couple in front of her; or maybe she did, but she didn't let on.

Buffy wanted to answer, but she also knew that the answer wouldn't suffice to explain just how serious things actually were between them. So, she deflected, and did so quickly, while also trying to remember that her relationship with Spike felt much older than it was, and that was okay for once. Spike was nothing even resembling "safe;" she knew that, and with the arrival of her father, the point was made transparently clear. However, she had met a man who was actually devoted, and truthful. He was agonizingly truthful.

She ushered Dawn passed Spike and into the kitchen, asking Darla to make some tea- Dawn wasn't a big fan of coffee lately -and sitting her down on a chair by the island. "Look, a lot has happened today and I have to make you understand things about dad before we get into anything else."

Buffy could tell Dawn was nearly bristling at the bossy-big-sister role she had slipped into. The elder relied on it when she could, and frankly, she needed it today.

Fortunately, though annoyed, Dawn just sighed and agreed, nodding her acquiesce. "Fine. But I have some other things to talk to you about besides dad, too."

"Sounds good." Buffy smiled with relief. "Give me a minute, okay? I'm just going to talk to Spike, then I'll be back." The vampire in question was standing right behind her, but he would need to vacate the room so she could talk to Dawn privately.

Buffy didn't know if he'd consent, but she would have to try.

Before she tugged her mate to the doorway, then Dawn spoke up again. "Oh, Spike?"

Both he and Buffy turned around; Spike gave the brunette a questioning look.

"Thank you for helping me," she said.

He smiled disarmingly, almost warmly, as his stiff demeanor softened. "Anytime, pet."

***

Awhile later, Buffy sat with Dawn at the island. It was a grueling conversation they'd just had, filled with questions Buffy just barely managed to answer. Darla helped by interjecting, and the story managed to develop so wholly, that by the end Buffy herself nearly believed it.

Their father was mentally unbalanced, and dangerous. It was the perfect explanation for his angry outburst and the strange calm just before, and the physical altercation. And it was reasonable if one decided to overlook the fact that Hank Summers had no history of mental illness.

Dawn asked about calling the police, but her heart wasn't in it. Buffy pretended hers wasn't either, when in truth she just knew that calling the cops on a homicidal vampire would be illogical.

She explained the importance of staying away from Hank, and not letting him inside the house. She told Dawn everything her sister needed to know, and now Buffy just had to figure out a way to take care of Hank before he hurt anyone.

Dawn had valiantly tried to move off the subject, talking now about inconsequential things like why she was working this weekend and Xander's idea to buy a second car. She was trying to distract everyone in the room, including herself, from the harsher topics available at hand. Buffy's eyes had unfocused while Darla replied at appropriate times, continuing a conversation she herself should be a part of.

At the moment, Buffy was simply grateful that Dawn had backed off the subject of romantic relationships. There was no theory as to why, but Buffy wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was too busy agonizing over the latest exchange between her and her vampire.

Now, she recalled Spike's earlier words, the ones they had shared before she relegated him to another room. She couldn't be sure he wasn't eavesdropping right now, but she didn't truly care if he was. Their last personal conversation had barely concerned Hank.

"He has to go, Buffy."

"I know he does," she replied. "But I can't-... I can't kill him Spike, he's my father."

"He ain't your flesh and blood anymore, pet. He's a monster."

"Don't you think I know that? He went after Dawn! I know he has to go but... I just want a- a way to make him be gone. I can't kill him."

He huffed out an impatient breath, grinding his teeth together. "I don't expect you to."

She raised her hazel green eyes, a severe question dawning in them. "You want to kill him."

He stood silent, and she said nothing else. Buffy's gaze broke from his and she looked down; she was as stiff as a statue. Spike could barely stand the quiet, but he slowly realized as it drew out, that she couldn't voice an allowance. She could not tell him to kill Hank, but she had to accept the move whether or not she wanted to; if not to protect herself, then at least to protect her sister.

Spike let himself focus on something else. She hadn't left his side just yet which meant she wasn't ready to talk to Dawn. He brought up the first thing that came to mind. "So you were asked on a double date?"

That got her attention easily."By Dawn," she clarified.

"Ah." He ground his teeth together again, not even aware of it. "When were you asked?"

"Not very long ago," she said. "Dawn's husband has a work friend they wanted to set me up with. I said no."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

He took an involuntary step closer. "Why?"

She nearly pushed him away. "I told her I wasn't interested in a blind date because of you! God, I thought that was obvious."

He nodded, eyes trained on her angry face. "But you didn't tell her about me."

Buffy sighed. "No, not until tonight. What did you want me to say, that I was suddenly mated to a vampire?"

"Could have."

Buffy's eyes bulged. "Are you crazy?!"

"Why?" he said. "It's just the truth."

She threw her arms down at her sides."I didn't want to tell her about the whole vampire claim thing until it had already happened. She won't understand, and she isn't going to just jump on the undead bandwagon here."

"Especially when she doesn't even know about it, right?"

Buffy's lips firmed. "My sister has always wanted me to find someone, and she's tried to set me up with guys before. This-" she waved her hand between the two of them, "-is going to be hard to understand. I'm just starting to figure it out and accept it myself, I don't need to be trying to convince my sister it's what I want and what's best for me, right now."

Spike's stomach knotted. "So, it's not what you want."

Her eyes hardened. "No. It IS. But it might take me a while to explain that to my friends and family, Darla not included."

His jaw clenched as he sucked in a length of unneeded air. "Mighty good excuse, pet."

Buffy shook her head. "You are unbelievable."

And with that, she'd left. Buffy had come to Dawn to focus on the issue of their psycho father, pushing her own problems with Spike aside.

She believed his doubts and fears, though logical, were still unfair. She knew they would have to talk things out later, but as for now-

"Buffy?"

-she needed to try and deal with the fact her dad was going to be gone soon, and reconcile the way he would be killed, why, and by whom.

"Buffy!"

She jolted. "Huh? W-What?"

Dawn shook her head with a gentle smile. "Where were you?"

"Oh, uh nowhere. Right here. Just zoned a little bit."

"I could tell," Dawn said, before adjusting her position, turning more towards Buffy. "I was telling Darla about my job, and how it's kind of the reason why Xander wants to buy a second car. Now that I'm not working from home anymore, we're finding out how much of a drag it is taking cabs everywhere when one of us can't pick the other up."

Buffy's lips formed an 'O' shape. "I think that's good. Smart."

Dawn's lips firmed as an excited look entered her eyes. "Cabs are kind of the reason."

Buffy frowned questioningly. Dawn smiled again, softly, and almost like she had a secret to tell.

Buffy recognized that look, and it usually meant good news. However, such news coming from her younger sister in the past had often meant she needed to stop Dawn from doing something stupid. Fortunately, Dawn had quit getting into trouble around the age of seventeen.

"I'm pregnant."

That was a different kind of trouble.

The words barely registered, but when they fully imprinted on her mind, Buffy stuttered, "Y-You're-" she pointed at her sibling; a girl who suddenly seemed so old. "Pregnant? You're pregnant?"

Dawn nodded giddily, and Darla moved forward to give her a hug. Buffy accepted one from her sibling next, while her brain ran itself into the ground. She realized she was frowning when Dawn pointed it out. "I- I'm just processing."

"Processing never looked so worried."

"Xander?" Buffy asked. "Xander's going to be a dad?"

Dawn did that happy nod again. "Yeah. He's so excited!"

Buffy finally smiled then, her thoughts slowing. There were so many mental pop-ups; Xander as a father kind of freaked her out, but not nearly as much as her little sister being a mom did. Then, she heard Joyce's voice in her head, clearing away all the concerns. Buffy imagined how happy she would be, how excited. She would've been a grandmother. "Oh, Dawn."

She didn't notice the watery smile she was giving her sister until Dawn said, "You never cry, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you're doing it because you're happy, considering you're smiling."

Buffy lunged at her and wrapped her in her arms, then abruptly jumped off the chair. Laughter started, a little squealing, and a celebratory air came over the room. Chatter concerning a due date, wellness, even names, and other baby related things captured all interest.

Eventually, the exclamations even brought Spike back into the kitchen. He stayed only for a minute. It seemed like he simply wanted to know what was causing such loud enthusiasm, even though Buffy assumed that he must have heard everything from the other room.

He offered Dawn congratulations, and then shared a guarded look with his mate before leaving. Not long after, the doorbell rang. When Dawn and Buffy got up to answer it, they met Spike in the front hall.

The bleached blonde stepped away from the door, arms crossed. Buffy noticed his protective stance, but Dawn flew right by and let Xander in.

"Was just making sure it wasn't-... him." Spike whispered in Buffy's ear when he got close. She nodded, a warm yet dreadful feeling igniting in her stomach. A woman shouldn't fear her father. Yet, she was lucky to have someone in her life who cared enough to try and protect her from him if necessary.

Buffy returned a hug from her brother-in-law when he engulfed her, then congratulated him immediately on the good news. "Thanks Buff," he replied affectionately, "Thought it was about time we got another Summers girl on this planet."

"Or boy," Dawn pointed out.

"Or a boy," Xander happily agreed. He didn't seem to care which he got, and neither did Dawn.

It took him a minute to notice the other presences in the house. He saw Darla, said hello and exchanged the quick niceties, while she threw in a harmless barb just to remind him of her personality (Darla had never really liked Xander, but she got along with him okay). Then, he turned and looked at Spike, eyeing the stranger curiously. "Hey there."

The bleached blonde in black rose one scarred eyebrow, looking Xander up and down. "Hello."

"I'm Xander," he extended his hand, which Spike took after a short pause.

"I'm Spike."

"Spi-?"

Buffy cut off Xander's unintentional insult. "Spike is..." all eyes trained on her, and she had to gulp down some nerves, "my boyfriend."

"Your-" Xander looked at the muscled punk to his left once again, nodding. "Okay then." He brushed the topic aside, and Buffy didn't miss Spike's scowl directed at her brother-in-law's careless tone of voice.

Buffy had a feeling Spike wouldn't take a liking to Xander very easily, and judging by Xander's evasive eye movements, the feeling would remain mutual for a while.

"So," he said, addressing Dawn, "did you guys talk about stuff besides the baby...?"

She nodded in reply, and said, "Yeah. My dad is... Well, dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"I'll explain more in the car. Right now I just want to get home," she said, rubbing the back of her neck a little. Xander didn't miss it, and asked if she was okay. When Dawn let him gently pull her shirt collar down to reveal a previously unknown of, slightly blue mark, his face went dark. "What happened?"

Dawn's eyes shot to her sister, before meeting her husband's again. "It's a long story. I'll just tell you in the car."

Buffy stepped in and said, "That's probably a good idea. I bet you're tired after everything," she said, putting her hand on Dawn's shoulder, "and in your condition... You'd better get home and get some sleep."

Her quick step-in paid off, and had Dawn headed out of the house and towards the car before Xander could demand an explanation then and there, forcing everyone to relive one of the odder stories of the evening.

That, and Buffy knew how Xander would react to said story. The man's temper would only be able to be cooled by Dawn, no one else.

Although, she did wish she could see his reaction when Xander found out about Spike's role in his wife's rescue.

Buffy watched out the window as Dawn was needlessly doted over while Xander walked beside her, his arm banded around her still slim waist.

As they drove off, Buffy had the overwhelming feeling of gratefulness towards Spike. She didn't want to think what might have happened to her sister had he not been there. A bruised neck would have been nothing compared.

Buffy was sure hearing of Spike's actions would put a dent in Xander's uncertainty on whether to take him seriously or not.

Finally turning away from the window, she faced the blue eyed protector, and said, "I need to ask a favor." He stayed quiet, and she sighed before explaining. "I know we're not exactly on the best terms right now, but could you head to their place and just make sure they get inside okay, maybe stake out the area a little to be sure my dad isn't hanging around?"

Spike nodded, and was about to ask for the address when Darla stepped up. "I'll do it," she said. "You two obviously have some talking to do."

"But my dad knows you. He might try and-"

"I can take care of myself."

"But-" The vampire walked to the front door, ignoring her. Buffy sighed deeply before calling out, "At least take my cell with you!"

"Already grabbed it." She was gone in a flash.

And Spike and Buffy were left alone.

The tension seemed to float up from nowhere, leaving Buffy breathing deeper than she knew was normal. She looked away from him, and Spike came closer. His soft footsteps were what finally edged her to look up, and there he stood apologetic, his jaw clenched and eyes frustrated. "I'm sorry," he said.

She blinked. *Well that was unexpected.*

"I was a jerk. I shouldn't have pushed you the way that I did."

Buffy glanced away again as her heart began to race. "Thank-... Thank you."

"I just- I don't know what to do here," he said, "One minute I think we're getting... closer. And the next I feel like you're pulling back from me. I know I said I'd wait, and I will, but I'm trying the best I can, Buffy."

Her voice was quiet and tinged with warmth. "I know."

"And now with your dad in the bloody mix..."

He was worried, which she understood. However, emotionally, things weren't exactly going all too well in her heart right now. She was quickly approaching the "point of no return" with Spike, but she had yet to calm down enough to stop calling it that.

Her dad was just one more thing to postpone her inner dealings with having a mate.

"You know what I'll have to do, right?"

She remembered his last words, and nodded. "Yes."

He was silent for a few seconds, then, "Are you going to hate me?" His voice was laden with dismay.

She looked at his face and shook her head. "I couldn't."

He rose an eyebrow. "Even if I kill him-"

"He isn't my dad," Buffy said; the sudden admission made her feel sad and relieved at the same time. "Not anymore."

Spike cautiously reached out a hand to grasp hers. She'd lowered her eyes again, so he put a gentle touch below her chin to lift her face. Hesitantly, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

Buffy melted slowly, lazily, as all her fears drifted away in the space of a minute. The taste of him fogged her mind as much as it cleared it, centering her focus, until the only thing that mattered was right there holding her hand.

Her arms lifted and wrapped around his neck, and she felt his suddenly empty fingers dance along her waist until they were bunching in her shirt. They moved down, tingling sensations following in their wake as his touches slipped under the fabric guarding her skin.

Little invisible flames sparked where her hands traced, where her nails gently scratched at the nape of his neck. Spike pulled her flush against his body, reveling in the kiss as it lasted, and refusing to let himself push for more. After all, as long as Buffy wasn't backing out, as long as she still wanted him, wanted them, he had what he needed.

He would wait as long as necessary for the rest.

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Thank you to everyone for the reviews and for reading! I hope you're all enjoying the story! *big hugs*

He couldn't find the bastard anywhere. Hank Summers was a ghost, lurking in inconspicuous shadows, causing terror simply by existing, and without lifting a single finger.

It made Buffy nervous and drug out her pain. Spike fumed knowing how close the other vampire had come to her, and that Hank Summers might find another opportunity to repeat the action. Darla had been out looking for him nearly as often as Spike, but they'd found nothing. No demon in town seemed to recognize the description of him, and that meant the wanker was probably staying somewhere outside of Sunnydale.

It didn't have to be far away, and that was just one of the many reasons why Spike was losing so much sleep.

It wasn't as if Buffy could just quit going to work, no matter how understanding her boss may be. Yes, most vampires were unlikely to try and attack during the daytime; it simply wasn't in their blood, nor was it easy. However, that didn't keep Spike from worrying every single time Buffy left the house. He waited impatiently for the weekends, when he could keep her all to himself, and safe. He liked the evenings when she was home and near enough for him to hear her heart beating, and hated the groggy mornings he awoke to watch her leave.

He called her too often at work, Spike realized, but until she came through the front door at half past five, there was no help for it. Until the threat of her undead father was dust in the wind, there was no help for any of his overprotective actions. Darla was pretty understanding, which would've been a surprise if it wasn't painfully obvious she wanted Buffy to remain unharmed and safe, too.

It'd been nearly two weeks since the incident, and security at the house two vampires and a human shared had increased to a level most average people would balk at; Buffy was smarter than that. She phoned Dawn sometimes twice a day now, and would continue to do so until Hank was caught.

Buffy's sister may be oblivious to their dad's supernatural makeup, but she wasn't stupid. She remained very cautious, always checking on Xander when they were separated, and he did the same for her after realizing how scared his wife had become of her absentee father; it seemed Buffy could make anyone afraid enough to keep themselves vigilant and safe.

The Harris' had since bought themselves a second car, and Dawn left her phone in her purse to avoid forgetting it when she left the house.

Hank Summers had incited a fear into his remaining family, and unfortunately, Buffy was the one who must be strong and shoulder the bulk of it. She sacrificed telling her sister just how much their dad had changed, and instead relied on getting Dawn to believe that he was leaving the country soon, and until he was gone, everyone was to remain watchful.

Perhaps that was another reason Buffy called Dawn every day now. Along with fear for her sister's safety, there was a measure of guilt there. Buffy hated keeping such a secret, Spike could tell. Every time the sisters talked, it wasn't just to check on one another, but included tireless, detailed updates about their day. Spike figured Buffy was sharing everything non-vampire related that she could, to make up for keeping Hank's identity a secret.

At present, Spike remembered a particularly strange and unsettling phone call as he dozed on the cot upstairs. A mere two days after meeting Dawn, and the unspeakably ironic incident of rescuing her (something he and Buffy had yet to talk about, but Spike knew was coming), his mate had handed him the telephone.

Dawn wanted to speak to him, apparently, and when Spike demanded to know why, Buffy had just shrugged and said, "Find out."

He started the conversation with a hard, slightly anxious scowl on his face, which of course the lady couldn't see, followed by a very hesitant, "Hello?"

Dawn's chipper greeting pierced his ear, causing him to jerk back; Buffy had snickered. Spike ignored her, and tried to focus on Dawn's chatter. He still didn't know why she'd sounded so happy to talk to him, but the lady went on as if they had known each other for years. He listened, and she prattled, but once he got used to the decibel level it was easy giving her his time.

The chit wanted to thank him again, for helping her out two days before, and also apologize. Why, he hadn't known, until Spike remembered that he was a vampire and Dawn wasn't privy to that information. She also didn't know she had been attacked by one of his kind. But she did know she'd run as fast away from the altercation as possible when Spike ordered her to, and she felt bad about that. She wished she'd stayed to make sure he was okay.

Dawn told him she watched from the window of the cab to make sure he emerged- and seemingly unscathed -from the alley, and so decided not to call the cops; she didn't want to know what happened to her attacker, anyhow. But that didn't excuse her running away in the first place.

Spike explained, rather awkwardly now that he thought about it, that she had nothing to be sorry over. She'd done the right thing, and he wouldn't have told her to run if he hadn't meant it. If he'd felt he might need help, there would have been an order given to call 911, also.

Dawn just thanked him and apologized again, but her unexpected reaffirming gratitude was not the strangest part of the phone call. The nuttiest part was when she put her husband on the line.

Xander was, evidently, eternally grateful, and much more friendly when he liked you. The puppy-eyed man also thanked Spike for his heroics, if in a less zealous manner than his wife had. He sounded slightly abashed, but completely heartfelt, and announced that he was forever in Spike's debt.

If Spike was honest, the whole phone call had been one of the most uncomfortable moments of his existence. Nonetheless, he accepted it, and acknowledged Xander's thanks with a verbal waving off, ensuring the bloke it was no big deal, then waited impatiently for the appreciation to be over with.

After finally getting the moron off the phone, Spike stormed upstairs before Buffy could broach the subject of his onetime only good deed. She'd stood nearby during the call, so Spike knew she must have gathered what Dawn, then Xander and him were talking about.

But Spike wasn't in the habit of saving naive women from vamps, and he didn't plan on letting it get to that point. He didn't want Buffy expecting him to start wearing the label of "White Hat" anytime soon. The demon within was always growling and rejecting such notions. It had taken a dislike to the event of saving Dawn, and only shut up after meeting her and realizing she was Buffy's sister; couldn't let his mate suffer the loss of a loved one, after all.

The sisters' familial bond was tight. He recognized the true devotion they had to each other, and knew that if anything happened to Dawn, Buffy would be a wreck. It was why he'd checked out the Harris residence a few times at night during his stakeouts, just to be sure that Hank wasn't lurking around; that, and it was one of the most likely places the bastard would go.

You couldn't be too careful lately, and knowing that, Spike wished he had already begun teaching Buffy how to fight.

Not that she was weak for a human woman, but he knew he couldn't let her continue living in Sunnydale without learning some fighting skills, especially with her murderous father running loose. She may not have supernatural strength, but that didn't mean she couldn't defend herself.

She'd once told Spike that karate lessons had been a fun way to exercise and work off stress back in college, but she'd quit them after a year because her school workload had increased. She kept herself healthy still and stuck to a regular workout routine, so she was in good physical condition. It was just a matter of getting her to agree to some lessons.

At the thought of being her teacher, Spike grinned unashamedly. He would love training with Buffy, and once the claim was complete and provided her extra strength, it would be even more fun. She might actually do him some damage.

Spike dozed off on the little cot in the storage room, one hand behind his head as images of sparring with his mate floated by, dreams of flexes and lithe high kicks putting a wide, dreamy smile on his face.

***

He awoke two hours later, rather abruptly, to a worried Darla.

The lady was rarely worried, he'd come to learn. Spike quickly shook off the drowsiness and rubbed his eyes.

"Where's Buffy?" she demanded. Darla had on a wrinkled blue tank top and a pair of matching silk pajama pants, which told Spike she must have just rolled out of bed. The chit hardly ever woke up before six in the evening and Buffy was home from work by then, always. She should be downstairs.

"What do you mean 'where is she?' She should be-"

"Well, she isn't," Darla declared, hands on her hips and voice rising. "She isn't anywhere in the house, and it's almost seven thirty. Did she ever come home from work?"

Spike sprang to his feet, nearly plowing into Darla on his way out the door. She followed him as he sped down the stairs. When they got to the kitchen, he grabbed the phone to dial Buffy's number.

Darla's tense silence, and the lengthy ringing in his ear, managed to hone awareness, playing with his building anxiety to make Spike twitchy and his stomach burn. The phone kept ringing, and ringing, until he was nearly ready to throw the damn thing.

The claim may not be complete yet, but Spike would have felt it if anything had happened to Buffy. He would have.

Gods, he hoped so.

Suddenly, the ringing ceased. "Spike?"

A whoosh of unneeded air left his lungs. "Buffy, Christ are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. I'm still at the office. I had to do a little overtime."

Darla's sigh of relief was heard clearly. Spike felt like he'd just been hauled out of an overflowing well, himself. "Oh," was all he said; it was somewhat difficult to talk.

"I tried to call the house, but every time I did nobody answered. I figured you guys were asleep," Buffy said, an apology edging into her voice.

He sighed and groaned at once. "I'm sorry, love. I dozed off."

"I don't blame you," she claimed. "You've been getting hardly any rest, Spike. I wish you'd stayed in bed until I got home. You could use the sleep."

He shook his head, hard. "No, I'm glad I'm up. Nearly had a heart attack when I learned you weren't here, though. Why'd you have to work late?"

A few seconds passed before she replied. "Oh, some stuff was just brought in that had to be appraised," Buffy told him, and Spike thought he noticed something in her voice, almost like exaggerated flippancy; but then she was speaking again, so he shook the thought away for the time being. "And I got loaded down with paper work," Buffy complained. "I finished that first before getting started on the appraisals, thinking I could have them done in a flash. I was so wrong. I just got done."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said.

It sounded like she shrugged. "It's no big."

Spike asked, "Are you going to be leaving soon then?"

"Yeah, I should be leaving here in like five minutes."

"Don't."

"What?"

"Wait for me. I'll come and get you." It didn't make much sense, but the start Spike had experienced after waking up and knowing Buffy wasn't home when she ought to be, had him still shaking on the inside. He wasn't prepared at the moment for these feelings, and he didn't want to experience them ever again if he could help it. He just wanted to see Buffy now, and be with her on her short trip home.

"I have the car with me, Spike. It would take you longer to get here than it would for me to just drive home."

He shook his head, smiling ever so softly. "Maybe, pet. Vampire, remember?"

"I don't want you running here and exhausting yourself, Spike. I-"

"Won't even break a sweat." He heard her sigh then, and swore she was rolling her eyes.

"Fine. But I still say it's going to take longer-"

He cut her off. "Time me."

"Okay, I will. Just wait out front when you get here, you need a card to get into the building. You know the address, right?"

"Yeah. I'll be there soon."

He hung up the phone and ran upstairs to grab his shoes, leaving Darla in the kitchen. He slipped into his duster on his way out, but paused when the she-vamp called his name.

"Make sure to get back before the sun sets," she advised. "It's going to be dark soon, probably right as you get there."

His brows rose, but Spike nodded all the same. "We'll be back shortly."

With that, he left, patting at the reassuring shape of a stake in his pocket. He quickly navigated the twists of Sunnydale's alleys and shortcuts, the ends of his coat flapping in the wind as he took advantage of the dying light already beginning to cast shadows. He could handle this sort of semi-darkness without worry of bursting into flames, but Darla was right. It would be full night soon, and that made it more dangerous.

Spike ran faster, absently thinking about Buffy's willingness to be a hermit with him on the weekends, and every workday's evening, as well, in order to remain safe. He was grateful. The nights may be beautiful, and as a vampire, Spike's favored portion of the day, but they were also unsafe for humans.

As he looked behind him at the sinking sun, he was suddenly filled with thanks for the deadly rays that protected the living, even if only for a short while, from beings like him.

The extending gloom reminded Spike to be quick, his motions blurring as he hopped gates and rounded corners. Buffy was waiting on him, and asides from a security system, that building where she worked had no other protections against uninvited guests.

***

Buffy let the heavy metal door swing shut behind her. California weather, even this early into the summer, had a tendency to make some people overheat. Buffy liked hot weather, but she did enjoy the evenings the most during the late spring and summer months.

As for staying inside a sweltering office building, she wasn't for that. The last prisoner left inside was a sleepy security guard and his jangling set of keys as he locked everything up for the night, but Paul would get out of there quickly now. He only stayed when someone else had to work late, and Buffy was the last employee to leave today.

She may have alluded to Spike that she would be waiting inside the building until he arrived, but she didn't have the heart to make Paul stay any longer.

Tugging at her blouse, pulling tiny buttons away from her chest as she breathed, Buffy enjoyed the fresh air. The AC had gone out in the middle of the afternoon today. It wasn't scorching inside, but Wingfield's had gotten stuffy fairly quickly once five o'clock came and went, even with her office window kept open.

Buffy's stomach grumbled, as if to remind her that she hadn't eaten enough today. After a quick breakfast, she'd looked forward to lunch plans, but those had sort of fallen through.

Before she got to order a salad of fresh greens mixed up with grilled chicken and delicious poppy seed dressing, and a refreshing passion fruit tea from the restaurant conveniently located right down the street, someone unexpected had popped into her office.

Riley Finn, with several nicely aged pieces of jewelry in his hands, ready to be appraised and added to the long list of items he and his sister were selling.

The man had once told Buffy that he would bring some things to Wingfield's himself, but honestly, she'd forgotten. She had scarcely thought of him at all, unless you counted business concerns; and him showing up today had been business.

Needless to say, she was starving. And seriously peeved at her secretary for letting the man into her private office. Buffy couldn't blame the woman, of course, but a little interference might have been nice. Instead, she'd told Riley that Ms. Summers was "as free as a bird this afternoon," and, why she was sure her boss would love to receive a visit from one of the auction house's biggest clients.

Willow must have gotten to her, Buffy surmised, rolling her eyes to the dimming sky. Riley Finn may still be polite, and decent company, but it was awkward seeing him after the last time. Fortunately, he had not once alluded to being interested in her in a romantic way again during their meeting. Being around him made Buffy uncomfortable, though, and she'd suffered the first withdrawal pain she'd had since Spike moved in.

It'd almost knocked her off her chair- And thank God she'd been sitting down. Riley Finn commented that she'd suddenly gotten very pale, asked if she was alright, then offered to get her some water. Buffy liked to think her gasp of "Please!" hadn't sounded as pained and dramatic as she remembered it being. Nonetheless, it took nearly a full minute for the sickening feeling to go away, and at the time, she hadn't cared about publicizing her agony.

Between that unpleasantness, her admirer showing up unexpectedly, and feeling for some reason guilty that he had, anybody could understand why her appetite had dropped dramatically quick. It had also neglected to rise again over the remainder of the busy day.

Mr. Finn's visit lasted under an hour, but Buffy was still concerned at the idea of telling Spike. She knew she must, even if he was likely to get jealous and growly. He'd get over it, though, she figured, and if she didn't tell him, Buffy knew she would feel bad. This was something he'd want to know of, despite the event's triviality.

Speaking of Spike and his growly-ness, she wished he would amp up that vampire speed and get here already. The sky was fast changing colors, deep gold and pink blending with purples and midnight blue.

Buffy stepped off the curb and headed for her car, keeping her eyes open and senses alert. The moon was already visible, and that meant she should be getting home, soon.

This town was always a hazard at night, but now, with her not-so-much-a-father on the loose and wanting to kill her, extra precaution was crucial. She unlocked the driver's side door and slipped inside her car after checking the backseat through the windows to make sure it was clear, something her mother had taught her.

After sitting down, Buffy quickly locked herself inside and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. She slipped off her professional high heeled shoes and undid a button on her cool cotton blouse, before letting her hair down from its simple bun to hang around her shoulders. Sighing in reprieve, she stuck her key in the ignition to turn on the engine.

Then, she heard a noise. It was just a thud, and she thought it came from somewhere behind her. Stalling her movements, Buffy listened. She clenched the ignition key in her fist and then reached for her purse, digging inside for her pepper spray.

She waited a minute in frozen quiet. Nothing happened. Scowling, the woman wondered if maybe she was beginning to imagine things, but wasn't prepared to take the chance, and hastily started her car.

She wasn't leaving the parking lot because Spike was still coming to accompany her home, but she was going to move her car closer to the building's front doors. As she pulled out of her reserved spot, the few lamps that were scattered around the area flickered on. She blew out a breath, grateful for timers and electricity.

She put the car in park when she was facing the doors to Wingfield's, then realized that Paul the security guard's truck was gone. She was alone.

Buffy sighed, holding onto her pepper spray and then reaching for her cell phone. She wished Spike had one of his own, and stored the thought away for later; she'd bring it up to him when he got here.

She debated turning the radio on, but decided against it, and instead chose to turn on the air conditioning. Almost right after flipping the switch, she heard another thud, this time louder, and seemingly much closer.

Buffy looked all around the outside of the car, searching anxiously for Spike, then looking down with disappointment when she couldn't find him. If he would just get here, she could get her heart to stop beating so fast.

Another thump sounded and this time, her car moved. Buffy's eyes widened, and she felt sweat break out on the back of her neck as she tried not to panic. She hurriedly got the smooth wooden stake that Darla had carved for her out of the glove compartment, and debated speeding from the parking lot and looking for Spike on the roads, but frankly, she was scared to move.

*Maybe it's just an animal or something,* Buffy thought to herself, rather unconvincingly, too. Her heart jumped in her chest when the car moved again, and she placed her hands on the steering wheel after dropping her phone and pepper spray in her lap, fear finally kick-starting her flight response.

Before she could even put the car in reverse, there was a harsh popping noise and she literally felt the vibrations from it beneath her seat. When she turned around to stare out her back window, she realized that the trunk had just opened.

Fighting the dread curling in her stomach, Buffy immediately put the car in reverse and stomped on the gas pedal. She hit something and emitted a quiet grunt as she braked.

There was no one in sight, and quiet all around except for her erratic breathing. The parking lot was still. But her trunk was open and something was nearby, the hairs on her arms and neck were standing on end.

Buffy didn't contemplate this for more than a second, but as her foot was once again depressing the gas pedal, she felt the telltale sign of a flattening tire as her car tilted backwards.

She pressed on the brakes again. The stake which remained in hand while she held the wheel in a white-knuckled grip began to feel slippery. She knew that if she looked behind her, there would be two glowing eyes, staring.

She took a deep, shaky breath, then put the car in drive. Buffy's foot rammed on the gas, the car hurtling forward while the grating sound of metal on pavement screeched around her as tire tread was eaten away. She swerved in a harsh U-turn, the trunk lid snapping open and closed like a giant fish mouth. The headlights then shone on her father standing in the distance beneath a streetlamp, his fangs glinting.

Buffy's breathing deepened, fast and harsh, her ribcage expanded rapidly beneath her shirt. The way he was staring, grossly sneering, made her feel vulnerable and like a child, helplessly afraid. She remembered when he used to tell her bedtime stories, and how those rare moments had faded into nothingness as she got older. How his visits became less and less frequent as the divorce quietly turned into old news. Then eventually, when Joyce died, he'd neglected to even call while his daughters mourned the loss of their mother.

Remembering all those things now, yes, Buffy could see him as a monster. She could even find the desire to hurt him. But who she was looking at through her windshield wasn't related in any way to the man who'd once held and taken care of her when she was little; that man was gone, and the only thing left of him was a vampire who wanted her dead.

Her father had taken her love and trust, and thrown it away. This demon residing in his body wasn't going to take her life.

*This might not kill him,* Buffy conceded, as she let her foot off the brake and stepped violently on the gas pedal once again, but she'd at least get to work out some of her aggression on the bastard.

The car revved forward and Buffy's hazel eyes narrowed as she turned to clip her target's left half, sending him to the asphalt. As she braked again, gritting her teeth at the horrible noise coming from the tire rim riding pavement, Buffy looked behind her to see his body sprawled on the ground, arms splayed out dramatically.

Suddenly, he jumped to his feet, and when he faced her this time, she saw that he was determined to hurt her back.

Buffy grit her teeth and reversed, nearly hitting him again, but he dived just in time for her to miss and end up rolling backwards onto the sidewalk in front of the auction house. She had no idea how a totaled tire could allow for that. She then turned to the windshield again when a loud bang startled her, and the blood in her veins turned to ice.

Hank stood on the hood of her car like a snarling monument, vicious and angry. He lunged forward, his big hand seemingly reaching for her throat before he even broke the glass to touch her.

A blurred shape moved in her peripheral, and then suddenly, it was right in front of her. A black shape passed her eyes, bracing itself on the right side of the hood before colliding with Hank and tackling him to the ground.

Buffy knew who it was prior to even opening the door and stepping out of the car. Her stake was still in her clammy grip.

The air was charged with wrath and roaring blood. Spike was pummeling him, straddling Hank's jerking body and punching him in the face over and over again. His head bounced off the ground every time. Buffy looked away, nervously swallowing down the bile that crept up her throat.

She heard Spike's voice slipping between harsh blows. Snarls erupted from his lips, falling of their own accord, helpless to be stopped. His anger was fierce, unmerciful, and going to be heard. "Knew you'd show yourself again, you bastard! Thought you could kill her, take her from me?!" More sounds of pain rose from the fight, then struggling ceased, and there was nothing but curses and the beating.

Quiet snuck in for a mere second, and Buffy made out Spike's pitiless whisper of contempt. "You thought wrong." His growl preceded a whooshing sound, like a tiny explosion or a vacuum, and then Buffy opened her eyes.

Before she could turn around, Spike's arms enveloped her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, then looked over his sturdy shoulder at the place where Hank should be. Yet he wasn't there, and Buffy realized she would never be seeing him again.

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END NOTES: Well, it's certainly been a while. But here- finally -is another update. I am so sorry it's taken so long for me to post again, but as an apology the next chapter will be up within two days! Thanks everyone who is still reading this fic! I promise I will not leave it unfinished!

IMPORTANT NOTE: The last chapter "Ashes to Ashes," was posted two nights ago, so be sure to read that one FIRST before you read this one. I don't usually update so quickly and I want to be sure no one misses chapter 15 ("Ashes to Ashes").

Enjoy number 16, and thanks for reading! Please review!
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Spike tossed the lug wrench and ruined tire into the trunk. It was amazing he'd been able to get the rim back into shape, he thought, enough so that he could put the spare on for the drive home. Vampire strength certainly came in handy at unusual times.

The front end of Buffy's vehicle was a bit worse for wear, and he still wanted her to replace that back wheel. Other than a few marks and a broken headlight, though, it would drive fine until she could get it to a mechanic.

Spike grit his teeth as he recalled the exact source of the damage, and wished for the thousandth time he'd just let Buffy leave work on her own. Instead, he had made her wait here for him and in that time, the sun set enough for Hank to come out of his fox hole and hunt her down like a bit of prey.

Spike wouldn't have gotten to kill the bastard, he realized, if Buffy had simply left after they spoke on the phone. Now all the danger was a thing of the past, but not the repercussions of Hank's death.

Buffy had gone scarily quiet once the fight ended. Spike looked her over, and was more than a little relieved to find she didn't have so much as a scratch on her. She had glanced at his anxious hands moving around her face and limbs, though, to notice they were bloody and already starting to swell. She'd latched onto them, staring worriedly at his abused knuckles.

He told her they would be fine, but her fingers feathered over the cuts and bruises as she said, "We have bandages at home."

Once he nodded, she'd gone monosyllabic, and that was when she needed to talk. Otherwise, Buffy took to answering yes or no questions with shakes and nods of the head rather than words.

Spike found he missed her voice. He was starting to think his mate was mad at him, and a part of him understood why. That same part was shaming him for causing her pain, but it wasn't the truth, because the one who had really caused Buffy heartache was her father.

Or rather, the demon the man had become. Spike didn't particularly like the overall judgment on vampires that said they were just evil versions of the humans whose bodies they walked around in, but he couldn't exactly refute the claims either. A lot of his kind were exactly that way. You lose your blood, you lose your soul; then, a demon equipped with your memories and bloodlust trots around in your corpse. Hank was a prime example.

Spike and Darla weren't wired that way. There were too many variations on vampires to count. Some were like them, some were even better, but the majority were like Hank Summers, and that meant Spike hadn't killed Buffy's father tonight; he'd killed a demon bent on hurting her.

This didn't make things a whole lot easier for Buffy, though. She sat in the car now, no radio on, the windows rolled up and the AC shut off. He might be less worried if she were crying or something, but then, of course he wouldn't be, because Spike hated seeing her in pain.

When he was racing here, something had started niggling at the back of his mind halfway, as if he wasn't going fast enough, as if he was going to be too late. For what, he couldn't have known, but the feeling put his nerves on edge nonetheless. He ran like his unlife depended on it, then his heart dropped into his stomach when he'd finally gotten to his mate.

If he could have only killed Hank a few more times, he would have. Spike still found his anger just below the boiling point, even knowing the bastard was dead. He fought to unclench his fists. He had to be calm now for Buffy, try and offer what comfort he could. Her silence was a sign of bottling things up, and overwhelming shows of desperation from him probably weren't what she needed.

Still, knowing how close she had come to getting hurt, even having her throat ripped open, had Spike fighting every admittedly domineering, protective instinct inside himself. Needless to say, he wouldn't be letting her out of his sight anytime soon.

He closed the trunk gently, raising an eyebrow and shrugging his shoulders when it didn't completely shut, then walked around to the driver's side. He opened the door and slipped in behind the steering wheel. He adjusted the seat, glancing Buffy's way before driving from the skid marked parking lot.

The quiet, even after Spike rolled down his window and the wind flew in, began wearing down his nerves almost immediately. Buffy's hands were clenched around two things: her cell phone and a stake, and her eyes were staring straight ahead.

Spike went for the less obvious question first. "Did you call Darla, pet?" he asked softly.

Buffy blinked a couple times, then turned towards him in a distracted manner. "Yeah. I figured she'd want to know that you got here."

Ah, finally, a sentence. Spike nodded. "Good thinking." He very badly wanted to know if she told Darla what had happened, but he doubted it. Buffy was acting stranger than he'd ever seen her, and frankly, he didn't think she would bring up the fact he'd killed Hank of her own accord until verbally acknowledging the event, at least. Darla, most likely, didn't push Buffy to tell her what was wrong while they spoke on the phone either.

The next question Spike decided to confront, though, he did. "Why are you holding that stake, love?"

He noticed her fingers tighten reflexively around the wood. She looked down at it in near surprise, and said, "I just grabbed it... When I was waiting for you and- I grabbed it." Her voice was stop-and-start, yet plain, detached.

Spike surmised the rest; she hadn't let it go. He watched as her grip on the weapon slowly loosened, and before he could even blink, she opened the glove box and tossed it inside.

Spike took a deep inhale, suddenly craving a cigarette. He wished fervently for her to say something else. Silence lasted for three long minutes before the vampire finally broke. "Are you angry?"

He remembered how she told him she couldn't hate him for killing Hank Summers, and knew that it had to be done. Yet right now, it felt like Buffy had assumed wrong what her feelings would be when the time came. Right now, she was distant and obviously upset, but hiding her thoughts from him. Right now, she was acting like she was heartbroken.

And it was his fault, even if Spike knew better, for there had been no other option than to do what he had.

Buffy looked directly at him with sad, honest eyes, and spoke in a quiet voice. "Of course not. I- I can't be. I know he was going to kill me."

Spike's hands tightened on the wheel. He said nothing, and let her continue.

Buffy sighed. There was a catch in her throat she couldn't conceal. "It hurt. Even though I know it shouldn't, it did, and I'm just trying to deal with that."

Spike wanted to pull over and wrap her in his arms, but reason told him to just keep driving. The sooner they got home, the better.

"I know," she began again, "you didn't kill my dad. I'm not even upset over... over you doing it."

Spike frowned. "You're not?"

He saw her shake her head, and hoped that wouldn't be the end to this conversation.

She didn't disappoint. "No. I am just trying to accept that he's gone. I'm trying to understand it. And I'm..."

She paused, and when he looked at her again, Spike realized Buffy's eyes had gone dim. She seemed lost in thought again, but a little dimple appeared between her brows and it was the most emotion she'd shown since noticing his damaged hands. "What is it?" he asked, "What's got you worried?"

She swallowed visibly, then said in a rush, "I don't know what I'm going to tell Dawn. I- I mean, I could tell her he just left the country, but what if she tries to find him again?" Her voice was strangled, and turned suddenly frantic. "What- What if she wants to tell him about the baby? Or what if she's left to wonder if he ever-" she gulped, realizing she was jabbering but unable to stop, "ever died, and this- this whole time I know he's already gone. I know it! Her sister, and I never tell her what happened. And she never gets to say goodbye or anything! I mean, how is that fair?!"

Her breathing turned rapid until she realized Spike had pulled over. They were parked in a loading zone, and not far from home, but he'd stopped the car and now he was leaning over to take her hand and draw her attention to his bright, bright blue eyes. How could they be so bright in just the dim light from a flickering street lamp?

His warm, soothing voice pierced through her inner panic like a flying dart. "You can tell Dawn everything, sweets. Everything. Once she knows about you and me... and Darla, probably, she'll be much more open-minded to the truth."

Buffy felt her heart beating deeply beneath her breastbone, but her lungs weren't shuddering anymore, which was reassuring. She watched as Spike's hand moved to frame one side of her face, and leaned into it gratefully. He said, "She'll understand, Buffy."

She shook her head. "She'll hate me for not telling her sooner."

"She'll be alright. She's your little sis, and she'll realize why you had to wait to explain it all."

After contemplating that for a moment, a helpless nod was all Buffy could manage. She let Spike's words begin to calm her, even if they weren't fact and only hopeful assumptions. She needed them. She couldn't feel guilty for protecting herself and her family. She needed to believe Dawn wouldn't hate her, or Spike for that matter.

Buffy just needed to hope, and remind herself over and over again that her sister was smart and loving and forgiving. Hank wouldn't manage to destroy anything anymore, and especially not the relationship between his daughters. His body was dust in the wind now, and Buffy was grateful.

***

When they walked through the door, Spike was talking, as he had been since parking her totaled car in the driveway, stressing the point that it was too dangerous for her to drive to work until she got it to a mechanic.

She'd already told him she wouldn't drive until the back tire was fixed, but he kept harping on the subject. She might have been annoyed if she didn't believe it was nerves getting him to go on like a broken record.

Darla appeared once they shut the door and Buffy dropped her purse on the table in the hall. The she-vamp looked at her friend, then at the man behind her, and her shoulders slumped marginally. Combined with the perceptive look in her eyes, and Buffy knew she knew. It was a power Darla had always had, the astute observational skills of a detective, an ability to discern the reasons behind something as habitual as a blink.

Buffy sighed and said, "I just want to lie down."

She nodded. Darla let her pass by, and without so much as a word, Buffy felt her friend's support as she walked up the stairs and sensed Darla watching her; there would not be pity in her gray-blue eyes, only compassion.

At the sound of Buffy's bedroom door clicking shut, Darla turned to Spike and demanded, "Is she alright?"

His jaw clenched. "Not exactly. Her dad is dead."

"I guessed that," Darla said irritably. "Was she hurt? Did Hank-"

"No." Spike shook his head hard, looking directly at the her. "I got there before anything happened."

Darla's hands fisted at her sides, then she crossed her arms in an effort to remain calm. "I knew she sounded different on the phone. But I didn't want to ask why until she got back."

"It was probably good that you didn't," Spike said, "She's worried."

"About what?" Darla asked, bafflement clear on her face. "Sad, I could understand. But Hank was exactly why she had to be so vigilant and careful lately. Now he's gone, so why on earth is she worried?"

Spike looked at the staircase, and followed the path Buffy had taken with his eyes. He would let her relay the details to her friend, but he didn't think there was harm in explaining Buffy's aloof manner. "Dawn," was all he said.

Understanding, then concern showed in Darla's eyes. "Oh boy."

"I told Buffy she'd understand."

Darla nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Yes, Dawn just doesn't like to be babied. She'll understand once she knows all the details, of course, but it's the point Buffy didn't tell her right away that may bother her."

Spike nearly rolled his eyes and his voice came out in a harsh whisper. "I don't care if it bothers her or not! Buffy is trying to protect her, and explaining the mountain of crap on vampires isn't something that can be easily done in one bloody sitting!"

"Dawn will see that," Darla said, shaking her head at him as if he'd just had a few screws loosened. "Not right away, though. Buffy knows it, too. She's worried Dawn won't forgive her." The blonde shrugged her shoulders. "Dad is dead. It's usually something you share with the family."

Spike did roll his eyes then, and stomped passed Darla on his way up the stairs.

"I don't know if she wants company right now."

"She's not going to wallow in this. If she wants to cry, I'll be there. But I'm not letting her sit in the dark by her bloody self," he growled.

Darla watched him head for Buffy's room, striding with purpose and a little agitation. She murmured a thought to the air, as her lips curled softly upwards at their ends. "I didn't think so."

***

She opened the door just as he went to pound on it.

"You aren't hard to hear," Buffy said as she walked away, clearing the entrance for him. Spike stood there a bit dumbstruck, but quickly recovered and followed her inside.

Buffy sat on her bed and looked up after he closed the door, placing her hands in her lap. She nodded towards her nightstand, where a lamp perched tall and bright. "See, not in the dark."

Spike sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't want you to-"

"What? Feel like I'm lying to my little sister? Like I'm doubting everything I've-" She cut her words off with a depreciating laugh that grated on Spike's patience. Suddenly fixing her green eyes on the bedspread, Buffy's fingers traced invisible patterns along the comforter, and a sudden feeling of anxiety crept down Spike's neck. "Doubting?" he asked.

Buffy glanced up at him, and then she was caught staring into his eyes. They held her captive like a bird in a cage, and she realized she was going to tell him her thoughts, and she also realized how badly they could hurt him. "I don't see how..." Buffy swallowed hard. "How you can care about me- about anyone -and Darla can care, but my dad just... wanted me dead."

Spike gazed at Buffy, fighting the burning sensation behind his eyes by pretending it wasn't there. "We're not like him, pet. Vampires are all different, but the majority aren't like me and your friend. They're like... like your dad was." He finished softly, but didn't think that minimized the impact of the words at all.

Buffy shook her head and looked away. "I know. I- I've asked these questions before. I've wondered all this before but I just... I feel like I can't trust anything right now."

A pit formed deep in his stomach. Spike hesitantly moved forward, until he was seated beside his mate on the bed. Buffy stayed frozen in place, but allowed him to reach out and grasp her hand. He had no words, and relied instead on the action. It was simple, it was plain, but he hoped she realized how much it stood for.

Her breath suddenly rose in a tortured gasp, and Spike caught a glimpse of tears shining in her eyes. "I mean, I don't know why I can't get passed this." Her tone was higher than normal, shaky. "You would never hide in the trunk of my car then pounce out at sundown to kill me." She spoke in a sad, mocking voice, and then despair began dripping from her pretty eyes.

However, Spike had turned unmoving, and though she was crying, Buffy still noticed his erect posture even while trying to control an inevitable waterfall of tears. His grip tightened on her hand and a sudden fury blazed in his eyes. He murmured a question, and it was deathly soft, but filled with something incredibly volatile. "He was in your trunk?"

Buffy frowned, confusion stalling her breakdown. She wiped at her face. "Yeah. I- I thought- I mean, didn't you notice the trunk was-" Spike met her gaze then, and she realized in a single moment that no, he hadn't known anything. He was only now learning that Hank had been hiding in her car all night long, waiting to hurt her.

The news did a number on Spike's calm. Knowing that she'd been so close to Hank... all day, without either of them realizing it... He'd been right there, close enough to kill her at any moment, and Spike had not known.

It was amazing, Buffy thought dazedly, how quickly a storm could brew in somebody's gaze, how fast emotions slipped from one's control. Spike grabbed her shoulders, not hard enough to hurt her but enough to startle, and his lips nearly brushed hers when he ordered, "Kiss me."

Buffy didn't blink, didn't move, except to lean forward and obey. Her mouth tickled his with the lightest of touches, caressed his cool skin and then strangely, Buffy felt tears of relief coast down her cheeks. Everything was suddenly okay, even her doubts and fears quieted, and she swore she felt the connection between them humming with pleasure.

When she pulled back from the sweet contact, Spike was actually tenser than he'd been before, and Buffy frowned. He murmured something before she could open her mouth. "Forgive me," he said.

Spike unexpectedly stole her lips in a kiss so rough and possessive her heart had trouble catching up. His hands were in her hair, then they lowered to her waist. She let him take control, let him haul her onto his lap and glide his hands beneath her skirt. Then a rush hit, and Buffy was reveling in it.

She started molding her body to Spike's and kissing harder. She allowed and loved the near bruising grip he had on her. She felt the loosening of the straps around her ankles, and a moment later her high heels slipped off her feet. His damaged hands roved up her legs once again and bunched her skirt, gliding around her thighs, leaving goose bumps.

He un-tucked her blouse from her high waistband and started working the buttons. Buffy noticed he was taking too long with his shaking fingers and brushed them away, seeing to the job herself. Their mouths remained chaotic and untiring, tongues gliding against each other. One by one the butterflies came to life in her stomach, and she let him tug the shirt from her body before pushing at his leather coat.

It peeled from his shoulders, but he only abandoned touching her one hand at a time in order to get it off. Then he was holding her again, sculpting her arms and waist. Spike reached for the zipper on the back of her skirt.

A fire started flickering higher and higher, letting off sparks in her blood. Buffy felt like she was approaching a point, a ledge, like there was some invisible sign that dictated she couldn't turn back. Helpless to stop herself, groans and whimpers echoed around the room, heat rising off her skin she was sure in steamy wisps. Spike's cool touch was the only thing needed to calm it.

But he wasn't calming it, he was feeding the fire, having moved his hungry mouth downwards to her throat. He left moist, open-mouthed kisses on her skin, and bites that made her arch her back. Grabbing onto his hair and holding him in place, Buffy realized dully that his fingers were working on her bra clasp, fiddling with it until the hooks unlatched. She dropped her hands from his shoulders to let the satin straps fall.

He gazed at her with impatience and greed, wrapping his arms around her naked back. Hungry kisses trailed along her chest until his tongue was teasing and tracing a puckered nipple. His fingers showed attention to the other, and Buffy began to claw at his arms. She writhed in his lap, moans escaping from her lips like prayers to the ceiling.

A heady desire rolled through them both, pushing them to take exactly what they wanted, supporting the craving to fall into each other. It encouraged the need to forget the problems of the world. Forget everything, but the sex and blood and the emotions felt. Desire and electricity thrived, and an aching connection strained to be completed.

Beneath it all there lay some uncertainties, but they were whispers, dispersing quickly into silence below two hearts' shouting, the demands, and the wants.

Abruptly, Buffy realized where this was going, and she was helpless to stop it. Mainly because she didn't want to. She really didn't want to. Despite unresolved wonderings, despite the franticness with which she was trying to get Spike out of his clothing, the night felt somehow resolved, set. This was already happening, already decreed by choice and abandoned caution.

Spike's hands mapped Buffy's body until they found her waist again, and he finally raised his head, gazing at her tight, reddened nipples. He ran a finger along one of them, smiling as she released a small gasp.

"Beautiful," Spike murmured, and then pulled her close again. He lifted her up just enough to yank her skirt over her hips, pulling the fabric lower until it bunched together in a crumpled mess about her knees. She kicked the garment from her legs.

She was bare except for her satin thong, and that was quickly torn away. Buffy didn't complain, just worked on getting Spike's belt off as he pulled his T-shirt over his shoulders. Next came the jeans, but both vamp and human were distracted as their lips came together once again, Buffy wrapping her arms around Spike's neck. He groaned when she bit his lip, and relished the sensation of her breasts rubbing against him.

Buffy touched the contours of his abdomen, running her fingers possessively over his muscular body, scraping her nails along his alabaster skin. She heard a growl well in his throat, and soon he was rougher, wild and kissing her so savagely that Buffy was sure her lips would look bee-stung for at least a day. She let him take control once again, and found that her inner submissive was purring with delight.

It wasn't a surprise when Buffy suddenly found herself lying sprawled on top of the bed. She was panting, and the sudden touch of air to her bare skin felt like invisible ice. She grabbed the comforter and slipped beneath it, watching absently as Spike divested himself of his jeans and boots, before striding over.

He ripped away the blanket she'd just used to cover herself; Buffy barely noticed.

Spike without clothes on was enough to knock the wind out of you. Buffy not only ceased breathing, but literally felt her heart stop and then breakout into a disjointed rhythm.

The vampire flashed her an arrogant yet somehow warmhearted smile when he caught her staring, and it widened when her cheeks flamed scarlet upon looking below his waistline. Spike knelt in bed beside her, and grasped her hands, forcing Buffy to turn on her back.

His fingers spread over her stomach, then ran up to trace along her side. He laid down, then gave her a moist, hungry kiss, pulling her body in close. Buffy arched involuntarily against him as she rolled to her side again.

Suddenly, she started trembling, a combination of dizzying pleasure, nerves and impatience running through her veins. Spike felt it, and tried to hold himself steady, but their impulses got the better of them.

In the dim light of the room, Spike could make out every beautiful curve and feature on her. Buffy was sighing, moaning and kissing his skin, her fingers finding the marks of old scars and tracing them as if to memorize each one so she could ask about it later. She dragged her nails down his back as their tongues ran against each other, the kisses becoming messy and harsh.

Spike grabbed Buffy's thigh and pulled it over his own, then moved his bruised hand to the junction of her legs, and ran a finger along the wetness he found. She gasped and said his name in an imploring voice that nearly made his head spin.

She whimpered when he slipped one, then two fingers inside her welcoming body. He pressed deeper until the heel of his hand met her clit, and then he curled his fingers. The actions he used made her writhe. That familiar coil of heat began to flow out from her core, spreading and heating Buffy from the inside out. Spike spread his kisses down her throat, and bit her skin with blunt teeth hard enough for it to hurt.

Her hips moved restlessly and her breathing sped up. Spike licked a cool trail up her arching neck and nipped behind her ear, making Buffy shudder. She moved her hands south. Buffy's hesitant touch paused just before meeting with the line of hair that lead to his cock. Her fingers danced, tickling his skin, then her wrist bumped against his erection and Spike groaned like she'd just shot him.

Buffy smiled, and suddenly let out another whimper as her vampire redoubled his efforts, quickening and deepening his touch. Her pussy was swollen and wet. She felt bereft each time he drew his fingers away, stimulating her body while still leaving her deprived. He pressed hard against her clit and massaged it in time with his thrusts.

Buffy took hold of his cock, squeezing him, twisting her hand as she moved it up and down. Spike began pushing into her strokes, saying her name in her ear and breathing hard against her neck.

Almost as soon as she'd begun, he pulled away. His hand abandoned her and Buffy released a little moan of complaint. Spike moved to his knees, and took his jutting cock in his own grip. He stared at her, eyes flashing amber before he poised over her body. Buffy turned, looked up at him and then down at his strong, lean form. This vampire was beautiful and powerful, hard in all the right places. She trailed a loving hand down his chest and watched muscles ripple beneath his skin; air hissed between his clenched teeth.

Buffy met his blue eyes again to see they were nearly completely black; she imagined hers looked much the same. Desire was pulsing through her system like a drug, every inch of her skin humming at Spike's proximity.

She grabbed him by the hair and yanked his mouth down to meet hers. It was a wild, rushed kiss, like the others, and she barely had time to realize he'd wrapped her in his arms again before she felt his cock, heavy and thick, pressing at her cleft.

Spike was holding himself back by a thin, thin leash, trying not to plow into her and ravage her, bite her, mark her as his. It had been this way since the first kiss, from the second he'd decided tonight that he wasn't going to leave her vulnerable any longer.

Spike should have been able to feel through their connection that danger was close by, but he hadn't, and Buffy had nearly been killed because of that. He needed the connection, to keep her safe, to know her heart was beating without having to hear it. He needed to take her body and taste her. He needed to get the demon inside of him to stop gnawing at itself, strangled by its own desire to complete the claim.

He needed this, because he was in love with her.

He loved her, and he'd almost lost her, and would have if not for the determination inside Buffy that gave her the strength to hit her own father with a car. Spike tried his hardest to remain calm, to remind himself that she was alive and she was here with him, but the desperation wouldn't stop and he couldn't care anymore.

Buffy's sudden voice, soft and begging, gave him everything. "Please. I need you."

That was it. All he wanted and more, the acceptance that tore away his last bit of control. It had been getting worn down with every whimper, every touch, but Buffy's words did the last of it. He pushed into her fast, deep, and she lost her breath, eyes of green and blue widening at the same instant. Then, the latter changed to gold.

He stayed above her, the face of his demon out and bare, and they froze in place until the tension became too much, and their bodies collided together again, and again. Spike's thrusts were hard and intimate, and she rose her hips to capture him each time, chest to chest, one pulse racing, another coming to life for the first time since its death. Buffy raised her arms up and let her fingers crawl along his shoulders, gripping him as she threw her head back. The picture of her arched neck drew out a growl from him, and her heart skipped a beat, excitement running through her, heat gathering as her body swallowed his cock over and over.

Moans and gasps permeated the air like an overwhelming chorus. A perfume settled around them, the aroma of sex drowning Spike's senses. He moved his hand from the sheet to the nape of her neck, and he held on, keeping her in place as he plowed into her wet heat, a snarl ripping from his throat as her legs wrapped around him, pulling him harder and closer. He leaned down to her throat. She called his name and he only moved faster, the sounds of their mingled pleasure heard as shouts in their own ears.

They were in a different world; Buffy couldn't breathe, she felt like she might be losing the capability altogether, but it didn't matter. As long as Spike kept driving into her, kept pressing her into the bed sheets, she didn't care what happened or if her heart was racing dangerously fast or not. She knew it was.

Suddenly, he began kissing her chest, leading a trail of brutal nips back up to her throat. Her pulse started hammering, and she felt his rapid breathing fanning over her jugular just as sharply as his cock plowing harder and harder into her body, meeting with the exact right nerves to send her crying out his name.

And then, he bit her. He wasn't gentle; somehow, Buffy knew he couldn't be. His fangs tore into her skin and she whimpered in pain, then pulls of blood were leaving her body in heady rushes, and she felt like she might cry. Pleasure rippled through her in waves, spiraling out from where his cock was moving deep inside her, to the place his fangs were imbedded in her skin. She fell over the edge, shouting, clutching at him to stay grounded and keep him at her neck.

Spike unexpectedly pulled away, but not until after her climax had finished, and he said the word that would seal everything: "Mine."

Buffy opened her mouth and a peaceful sigh escaped her lips. "Yours."

A thunderbolt sensation zinged through her. Suddenly, her passion came roaring back, and with it the undeniable need to draw Spike's blood and stake her claim. Buffy didn't even have to lean up, because he offered her his throat gladly, and when she bit him, she swore she heard him purring. The blood that followed her bite was cold and clammy, but she had no desire to gag, as the foul taste turned bland when she pulled back, and murmured the same word Spike had. "Mine."

He answered quickly, with fierce loyalty and jubilance coating the word. "Yours."

That electric shock ran through her system once more, only this time stronger. Her blood rushed and the room disappeared, and all she knew was that her hips were moving again and she was calling out his name in ecstasy. Spike fell over the edge mere moments later, and a cry tore from Buffy's throat as she joined him in release.

Panting soon followed, exhaustion flowing through every limb of both bodies. In the aftermath, it was abundantly clear the heat had only died down to a simmer, and would soon revive itself. As Buffy caught her breath in needy gulps, and Spike lie resting on top of her, the finality hit her.

And it didn't come with regret. Spike completed her now, and she understood just how badly she'd needed him, and how perfectly they fit. The placement of the claim felt right, and everything about him was slowly entering her awareness. Buffy felt his demon and its bloodlust, which scared her. She felt his life's loneliness, which saddened her, and his care for her, which nearly made her weep. She felt everything.

She swallowed hard, and fought the tears that were trying to arise. "I love you, too."

His bleached head snapped up, eyes of once again cerulean blue staring at her in shock; then, awe seeped in, and she found she loved him even more.

He lifted himself off of her, despite the fact Buffy didn't want him to move an inch, and said, "Could you repeat that?" with a catch in his voice.

"I love you, too, Spike."

Tears threatened from him now, and Buffy lifted her hand to frame his cheek. She smiled when he ducked his head, her heart practically beating out of her chest.

He sniffed and looked at her again, smiling. "I guess there goes privacy, eh, pet?" he joked.

She spoke softly. "We'll work on it."

A leer suddenly combined with his tender expression. "But there are such better things we could occupy our time with," Spike said, and Buffy had no idea how he managed to look both devoted and rascally at the same time, but he did it.

His hand brushed her hair away from her throat, and he checked her neck. She spotted a dose of pride in his eyes even as he frowned. "I hurt you, didn't I?"

"Only a little." He remained a silent examiner until Buffy said, "I hope you're not going to keep me waiting forever here."

He let her hair drop but kept his cold hand on her throat, tenderly covering the wound. The nerves there tingled with pleasure. Spike's frown disappeared when he met her patient gaze, to be replaced with dedication, and a look so warm and sincere that her breath caught. "I love you. You're the most irritating woman on earth, and the one with the deepest loyalty to those you care about." He swallowed nervously, but never once broke away from her gaze. "I love you," he choked out. "I'm yours. I'll always choose you. I'm your willing slave, Buffy. Even if we hadn't done this," he gently traced the area around her neck wound again, "I'd still be yours. Completely."

He saw she was going to cry, and knowing Buffy, she didn't want to let the tears fall, but she did anyhow. One, then two droplets rained onto her cheeks, glistening in the dark light. Spike wiped them away, and held his mate against him.

Abruptly, Buffy asked a question, her voice a quiet murmur. "What did you mean by, 'Forgive me?' "

He tensed. When he had told her that before, it was because he had made a choice to give in to his desires, and used the claim's lust and influence to persuade her into bed, into completing the connection. He'd decided not to hold back any longer, not after what had happened with Hank, and so he'd let himself touch her and kiss her in all the ways he'd been wanting to for so long, knowing she would succumb to the deep seeded cravings. Spike kept only his demon in check, and just barely, until Buffy told him she needed him.

Now, the woman basically read his mind. He didn't have to say a word. He watched understanding dawn on her face in a second, followed by acceptance and compassion. She might have been angry if she wasn't happy, but the fact was she understood, and she loved him.

Just when Spike wasn't sure if she was going to prove to him that he'd read her wrong, and voice her displeasures, she leaned up and kissed him. Her softness and warmth was a cloak of sensation, causing tingles to rush up and down his spine. She silenced his worries, wrapped him in her arms, and pulled him closer.

Nearby, the clock on the nightstand ticked away. All through the night and into the morning, sheets and blood and sweat tangled together, and Buffy and Spike never noticed when the sun began to rise.

For the first time, in a long time, all was well.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks for the awesome reviews everyone! Also, I found out recently that this story was nominated at the Sunnydale Memorial Fanfiction Awards a few months back, and I can't even really wrap my head around it. To see A Stanger In the Garden was even nominated beside the so many other amazing fanfics and authors on the award site is so amazing to me, and makes me absolutely giddy. So thank you SO much to whoever nominated/voted, it means so much to me. Now, I hope you enjoy the latest chapter of this story, and thanks for reading! *big hugs*
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Buffy woke up long after noon had come and gone. There was a warmth in her body, the sort of blissful sensation you experience when you've just enjoyed an uninterrupted night's rest, and now had all the time in the world to simply lie in bed. She raised her arms above her head in a languid stretch, smiling faintly beneath a stray beam of sunlight trickling in from the window.

Her muscles were all well used and flexible, leaving behind a kind of tingly feeling whenever she moved them. It was the sort of reminder that warmed her inside, physical evidence that spoke of a night spent in the heated embrace of a lover, and bed sheets properly tangled.

Buffy and Spike hadn't been able to keep off one another. She was sure her neck was decorated in blue and purple, and her right breast felt exquisitely tender from a bite he'd placed there. They had not once left the bedroom. He'd been inside her more than not, filling her body as she writhed and clenched around him.

It was purely impossible to fall asleep until they'd satisfied the mutual need for each other, touched and tasted every spare inch of flesh. And even when that moment came, their hunger remained only half satiated.

Now, hours later and rejuvenated from sleep, Buffy felt the desire for her mate gnawing at her insides, beginning to burn. She could hold off for a little while, but Buffy finally understood what all those books and internet searches had been talking about; it was virtually impossible to keep from touching Spike now that she had his blood in her system. Now that they were a part of each other, bound, magically entwined, just like they had physically been only hours ago, with his cock so deep inside her she could barely breathe.

Buffy could honestly say Spike was the best sex of her life, and no she wouldn't be telling him that, because she could only imagine the size to which his ego would grow. All they'd done last night was love each other. Held on tight as they fucked and bit and scratched, a lust driven inability to control themselves injected into their veins. Yet, that hunger had left little room for experimentation. They learned every contour and curve of each other's bodies, but the craving to simply touch time after time was so strong that neither of them had given a care to spontaneity or inventiveness.

Still, thinking about it all quickly conjured a smile and made her insides burn.

Buffy was just hoping, now that they had managed to sate their mutual hunger a little, that she would have the patience to try more with Spike. She had learned what he liked, of course, and paid attention to the things he said,- whispers and words that made her blush thinking about them now -but Buffy wanted to do everything with him, until all their nerves were exhausted from overstimulation; and then do it over again.

She opened her eyes finally, rubbing the sleep from them as she looked to her left. Spike was slumbering, his mouth hanging open, chest unmoving. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at him, and felt him. Somehow the essence of his existence was like a new sense of her own, an awareness, something as ordinary to Buffy as taste or sound.

It was strange, but in a good way, and Buffy didn't try to make sense of it. She stared at him with love in her eyes for anyone to see, but of course no one could. They were completely alone, and she had never felt so at peace.

Last night's events featuring Hank Summers the Vampire were fresh and unhappy memories in her mind, but Buffy hastily pushed them away. She didn't want to think about any of that, and she didn't find it necessary at the moment. She was sure the unsettled disappointment would arise again the next time she looked at her car. There was no need to rush it along.

She was a mated woman now, completely and unashamedly belonging to the man she loved and who loved her in return. Sour thoughts about her dad would just have to wait. She was busy basking in the glow, enjoying the utter peace that filled up her heart like the sun filled a morning sky. Besides, the person she most wanted to vent to about her father, and seek comfort from, was currently asleep.

And looking entirely too edible for his own good.

Buffy sighed, and smiled gently at Spike, a vampire who was completely lost in the world of dreams. Later would definitely be the time to dwell on things that were disconcerting, including the worrisome concept of talking to Dawn.

She was glad it was Saturday, otherwise work would have gotten blown off for sure.

Buffy continued to sit for a while, gazing at her vampire, knees bent and tucked beneath her chin. His pale, muscled abdomen and chest were covered in fading red lines, marks she had given him, evidence of her own loss of control. He made her scream, had her begging him to do what he would so long as he kept filling her over and over again, until finally feeling like she was soaring and falling at once when she came, clawing at her only anchor. The bite wound on his throat was ragged and bruised, but she didn't flinch, and felt only a small inkling of regret for causing the damage. Otherwise, it was all pride, combined with a heap of desire at knowing Spike belonged to her now, was hers and hers alone.

She hugged her knees, trying to refrain from pouncing on him as she continued her inspection. His body was truly beautiful, like something out of a fiction romance novel. He was naked from the waist up, exposed to the warm air in the room. The window had been opened and was letting in summery breezes that fluffed out the curtains.

Buffy almost gasped when she realized there was a ray of sunlight cast over the blanket, lying threateningly across Spike's legs. He was protected by the comforter, but Buffy still moved so as to block the ray, scooting closer. She placed her thighs over his lap so the sunshine rested across her skin instead. No crispy vampire today.

She could have simply gotten up to close the darker curtains, the ones that would sufficiently block the sunlight from entering the room completely, but Buffy didn't really want to leave the bed. The sheet and comforter were both partially covering her, modestly hiding her breasts, while her legs were bare and now comfortably resting atop Spike. She was feeling incredibly content.

Ironically, just as she had the thought, Buffy's bladder suddenly reminded her it was still inside her body and working better than ever. Her eyebrows came together in an annoyed frown as she failed to stifle a groan, and tossed the blanket off in order to rise from the bed.

She made it to the edge, then an arm suddenly reached out and wrapped around her waist, tugging her backwards. Buffy squealed and found she had one very awake vampire on her hands, clutching her to him as if she'd been about to disappear from the face of the earth.

Her back pressed into his chest and she moaned as a vibration of pleasure went through her. Knowing Spike was awake, feeling her mate against her, it was heavenly and would have been perfect if she didn't still have to pee.

"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured, his deadly quiet tone sending chills up and down her spine. Buffy clenched her thighs together for two reasons now.

"Can't you tell?" she asked. "With the connection complete and everything, I'd think you would have guessed already."

Spike wedged closer, and pressed his face into her tangled hair before nuzzling her throat with his nose and lips. Buffy shivered. "The only thing I know," he said, "is that you were leaving this bed, and I don't plan on letting you do that for a very long time."

She tried valiantly hard not to melt but was only half successful. "I need to go to the bathroom." Her words were part desperate declaration, out of fear she'd never relay the news if he kept diligently showing attention to the claim mark like he was, and part bashful admission. The man could make you forget your own name at times, and she was sure she would forget her motivation for leaving the bed in just a moment if she didn't do so soon.

Spike let out a little groan, but reluctantly released his hold on her body. Buffy was only partially relieved. She was about to roll away when he stopped her again, laying a gentle touch on her bare shoulder. She looked back at him with a question in her eyes.

"I just want to feel the sun on your skin," he whispered.

Buffy froze, stunned and a little confused, before he suddenly moved his hand to her sheet covered hip. A ray of sunlight spread over her bare thighs, and his hand inched towards it.

"Spike, don't-!"

"Shh," he interrupted her protest, "I'll be fine, love. Relax."

Buffy was frowning so hard her forehead hurt, and her heart was suddenly beating a mile a minute. She watched as Spike's fingers moved into the sunbeam, her blood running cold. Trying to fight the tingles she felt where he touched her, her throat tightened when his flesh began to smoke, and Spike gasped, but it didn't sound as if from pain alone.

His palm flattened, pressed and caressed her smooth, sun warmed skin, and Buffy met his eyes in wonder and worry. She could smell the burning.

But his eyes. Oh, his eyes were a brilliant, glossy shade of blue reverence as they stared at his own hand on her leg, her leg that was bathed in sunlight, something he shouldn't be allowed to touch. But he did, and somehow Buffy knew it was because Spike wouldn't be denied his right to touch her anywhere he pleased. He wanted to know how she felt when warmed by the heat of the sun, something deadly to him, but something that helped to keep her alive.

Her nerves refused to cease their erratic quaking, even when he said, "Christ, you feel amazing- Always do, of course." He finally looked to her face again, and Buffy noticed traces of pain in his adoring eyes. "I like how the sun lies on you, keeps you warm. You were made to soak in it."

Buffy swallowed hard, and it felt like a weight fell off her chest when Spike pulled his sizzling hand out of the beam of light. She'd been two seconds away from doing it herself, but waited as long as she could so as not to give Spike the wrong impression. God, it felt as if she'd just lost ten years off eternity.

She let out a long exhale, and was sorely tempted to kiss him until he knew nothing else but the taste of her. But he laid a tender peck on her shoulder and then nudged her to move. "Go on now, before you wet the bed."

His attempt at levity made Buffy smile, but before she could go she had to say one thing. Leaning in close, she murmured, "I look good in the moonlight, too, Spike."

She felt joy spread from her head to her toes when the look of surprise crossed his face, followed by pleasure, and a tenderness that would never fail to leave her weak in the knees.

She finally wiggled to the edge of the bed and dropped the sheet. Pouting at having to leave, Buffy saw Spike wore a similar expression when she turned around.

His eyebrow rose then, the pout swiftly fading as he said, "Better hurry up, pet. Standing there starkers isn't soothing my patience a bit."

Buffy smiled again and quickly ran to grab her robe from the closet, then slipped it on before pulling the thicker curtains closed over the window to block out all deadly sunlight. She left the room in a rush, striding determinedly down the hall.

She was in and out of the bathroom in under two minutes, and fast heading back to Spike. She entered the bedroom and found her mate was about to leave the bed. When he saw her, he relaxed. "Oh. I was just going to come and get you."

"I was only gone for a second."

"Still too long," he griped bashfully, looking down at the floor. His blue gaze rose again and zeroed in on where Buffy was biting her lip. He reached a hand towards her. "Come here."

She started forward, only to pause as her foot bumped into something. Frowning, she bent to pick up a piece of paper lying beside her toes.

"What is it?" Spike asked.

Buffy shook her head and unfolded it, her eyes quickly scanning the missive, before widening.

Darla had slipped a note under the door.

"It's from Darla."

"And? What's the bird want?"

"It- She says that when we're through to- to let her know so she can take her earplugs out."

Spike just stared at her, not saying a word. Then, when Buffy wasn't sure whether or not he would ever actually respond, the vampire burst out laughing. Robust, hearty laughter that made the walls shake, and it came fast and loud. Buffy fought off her own little snicker at his enjoyment, not at the note. This was embarrassing! Neither of them should find it amusing.

"It isn't funny," she said, but even Buffy realized how unconvincing she sounded. A sigh rolled passed her lips as Spike continued to cackle and clutch at his stomach. He was shaking with mirth, and she finally rolled her eyes when she noticed tears streaming from his.

"That is rich," he exclaimed. "Turns out the bint actually has a sense of humor, who'd have thought, eh?" More giggles and snickers wheezed from his lips, and Buffy groaned even as she gave up fighting her own reluctant smile.

She set the note which had caused the uproar on her dresser. Honestly, she did feel a bit bad about Darla, and what the poor vamp had been dealing with all night from them. The sound of a headboard banging against the wall wasn't exactly a lullaby; that earplug anecdote was probably true.

"I don't know what a 'bint' is," Buffy told Spike, "but don't call my friend that." She walked around the edge of the bed and undid her robe, then dropped it on a chair by the window.

Spike met her halfway as she approached him, all laughter gone from his eyes when he took her hand and pulled her back into bed. She folded against him, cuddling close as he lifted the sheet and pulled it over her legs, leaving his hand trapped beneath. He stroked her skin and goose bumps rose in an instant.

Buffy felt the fire beginning to flicker to life inside her, her heartbeat speeding up. She recognized that familiar longing in her gut, and pressed her breasts against his chest as he leaned down, rolling her onto her back. He stared into her eyes, his own shimmering with a sober light.

"You still love me?" he asked.

Buffy opened her mouth in surprise, then smiled. A slow, warm smile, even as she sensed the nervousness in Spike's mind and heart. "I love you," she said.

Awe and indescribable bliss suddenly flowed through their connection like a river. Spike bent down and kissed her. Buffy opened her arms, moaning as his fingers danced wickedly down her side, tiny invisible traces of magic following them. One hand moved to her head, where he took grip on her hair as the other smoothed around her body to grab her ass, pulling her up into a roll of his hips.

Buffy felt an ache already starting to form at her center. Desire travelled through her, heating her blood, making her body feel light and laden at once. She moaned as he curved his touch around her hip, feathering downward until his hand was nestled between her thighs.

Buffy gasped against his mouth, shuddering as he ran a finger through her slick folds. He circled then pinched her clit, drawing a moan from her. He changed direction, dipping into the wetness gathering at her entrance. "You like that, sweetheart?" She answered with a sound that wasn't a word in any language, eliciting a chuckle from the vampire above her who was doing his best to tease, and drive her out of her mind.

When he slipped two long, attentive fingers inside her pussy, Buffy moaned again, her hips jerking off the bed of their own volition.

Spike groaned. She was so hot, felt like soaked velvet around him. His touch was pulling in and out, drawing little quivers and gasps from Buffy as he studiously avoided her throbbing clit. The woman was a bleeding temptress, a siren calling out to him, with her head thrown back and her eyes closed tight. Biting her lips, making all sorts of little sounds that drove him insane. His control was quickly fading like shadows at dawn.

She was panting against Spike's throat when he pulled his busy fingers away to finally pay attention to the place that needed it most. He rubbed her throbbing clit with exquisite gentleness, a vibration of hot need wracking through her body. Buffy's eyes shot open and met his, black filled orbs that were speckled with amber. She was looking into the gaze of the man who had once made her so angry, and so afraid. The vampire who stood below a tree in her backyard time and again, staring up at a window while she hid from him. Her mate. The idea was so foreign now, felt so far away. Buffy could never imagine cutting herself off from Spike ever again.

As her hips began lifting into the movements of his hand, he stopped touching her, and she felt a thick sense of loss spiral through her body. Until Spike began to circle her dripping entrance once more.

Buffy keened, impatience and lust rising from her skin just like beads of sweat. Spike was so frustratingly patient, his touched too slow and measured. Couldn't he see that she was losing it? She felt herself near begging for him to slip his cock inside her again, to make her whole.

And then she saw the mark she'd left on his throat last night, and decided to see what would happen when she-

"Ahh!" Spike groaned harshly. Colors danced before his eyes until they crossed, as he felt Buffy's blunt teeth bite into the claim mark she'd placed on him, and he plunged his fingers back inside her, pumping and letting her writhe into his strokes, hitting the sweet spot against the heel of his hand every time. He waited for the pull of his blood, and the ecstasy that would follow.

He was shocked when Buffy moved away from him, moaning and then chuckling evilly like she was proud of herself. "You tease, I tease," she said, and continued to arch her body and swallow up his fingers.

Spike growled, his eyes flashing yellow amber before yanking his touch away from her, and pinning her hips to the bed. Buffy gasped as he wrapped her hair in both of his hands, holding her in place. His body had her trapped, and his cock was nudging her pussy. He could practically feel the fluttering walls, sense the burn that would come when he plunged inside.

Buffy looked up, a thrill running through her while she stared at the bright eyes and sharp fangs of his demon. A spirited humming jostled her within, greed and impatience grasping hands like long lost friends as the claim recognized its other half. Every nerve trembled when he ran his swollen erection up and down her slit, using just his hips for movement, and a pitiless smirk crossed his face. "Spike..." she sighed.

"You," he said, "are going to have to learn a lesson or two about teasing, baby." He tugged on her hair, then leaned down and raked his fangs along the arched column of her throat, skimming the several bite marks he'd left behind. It felt like hot wax was dripping onto her skin, burning heat turning instantly to shivers when he paid special attention to the mark that proved his ownership. "You'll never get away with it, unless I want you to."

His raspy murmur made her shudder violently, lighting Buffy's blood, causing her thighs to tense and pussy to throb. She whimpered unconsciously, and upon hearing the noise, Spike bit her. His fangs imbedded deeply into her skin, and his cock rammed inside her. Her clit throbbed as she rose her body into the deep thrusts, his pelvis grinding against her cleft, spreading her open. A piercing, consuming reaction shook her until she thought she would fall over the edge and never stop, until the threat of oblivion was real, and Buffy couldn't hold onto Spike tight enough.

Heat and want were like puppet strings. "Oh God..." she gasped, a cry ripping at her throat. "Spike!" His arms banded around her back, holding her so tight she was sure her ribs would crack. Deep, grinding strokes pulled out a pleasured scream while Spike continued to sup from her throat. Ecstasy ran through Buffy like a shot, and she fell over the edge. Her nails left red streaks on his shoulders and back. Spike snarled, gripping her as his cock slammed into Buffy's writhing body, as the trails she left on his skin caused enough pain for his demon to howl in rapture. He climaxed with Buffy's blood coating his throat and her pussy strangling him until he was ready to pass out.

Buffy's arms fell to the side and her labored breathing finally drowned out the sound of her heartbeat, gulps of air flying passed her lips. She smiled as both warmth and a deep sense of calm radiated out from every nerve. She felt Spike's fangs leave her neck, and as he panted against her abused throat, he licked her skin clean.

The sensation soothed her wounds. They would heal properly soon, Spike knew, but even as much as he liked Buffy wearing his mark, seeing such bruising and bloodiness on her neck made him feel a bit contrite. "They'll heal quickly," he told her.

She opened her drowsy eyes to look up at him, no worry or anxiousness present at all. "Okay."

"With the connection, you'll get some extra healing abilities now," he added.

"I know. Except for the faint scarring," she sighed contentedly, moving her limbs so they were all cuddled beneath Spike's body. He was staring at her in surprise. "I did read about this stuff. Just like some annoying vampire told me I should."

Spike smiled then. "Thought you weren't one to follow orders, love."

"Well..." Buffy gave him an impish grin. "I'll listen to them if the incentive is good enough." She raised her hips, making him groan as she flexed her inner muscles around his cock. "And I'd say that you're a pretty good one, Spikey." When she felt him stiffening inside her, she couldn't help giggling. "How about that vampire stamina, huh? The books sure weren't lying about that."

He thought he might dust if Buffy kept looking at him all happy and teasing like, or shag her until neither of them could bloody walk, at least. But then, her glittering eyes grew warm, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Spike, I haven't ever..." She bit her lip, frowning softly, suddenly tentative. "I've never felt this way about someone before. I guess I... just want you to know that." A blush rose to her cheeks.

How she could blush when he was still balls deep inside of her well loved body, Spike had no fucking clue, but it just made him fall all over again. This woman made him feel like he'd been living in a fog until the moment he'd met her, like everything up to finding Buffy was a half forgotten dream or something equally dim and unimportant.

Spike couldn't resist kissing her senseless, and when he pulled away, he spoke with his heart in his eyes and a surge of awareness for the dead organ that didn't beat inside his chest. "I love you so much, it makes me feel bloody faint sometimes."

She snickered, and he rose an inquiring brow. "We're just really cheesy," she said.

"It's too bad I don't give a damn, ain't it?" he said, and she laughed as Spike bent to nibble along her jaw line. Moving down to the claim mark, he licked the angry bite wound and she released a pleasured sigh, desire mixing with comfort. Her body clenched around him, squeezing his cock until he needed to fight down his demon. His fangs itched to come out and play again, but Spike ignored the urge. He had abused her throat enough for one night and day.

Buffy moaned as he began pumping his hips. Her tired legs came up to wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper as she lifted into his thrusts. A familiar shiver raced down her spine. When they moved like this it was as if the world had become nothing but a ghost, like it refused to dare touch the couple who moved together in uncaring passion and love. Every yearning wish she had was granted, every need and physical thirst quenched. The claim was a live, loud thing, constantly wanting sex and blood. Buffy was happy to oblige, and fortunately enough, Spike had the same appetite as she, with the vampire abilities to satisfy them.

***

An hour later, they lay beside each other. sweaty and gasping. Buffy fell almost immediately into a dozing state, and Spike curled her closer. Her right leg was thrown over his, her other tucked between his thighs. He kept her chest pressed against him, his cock still half inside her warmth. It was impossible to move from the bed, simply impossible.

They were anything but logical today, bending to the whims of their emotions without a care in the world. It felt like a fairytale. Their lust, combined with and stemming from the claim, was voracious. When he wasn't inside her in some way, it felt like he needed to be. Not that Spike minded, and Buffy was getting stronger with every passing second. He had read somewhere that the more contact a human mate had with their vampire directly after a claim was completed, could enable said human to obtain supernatural perks quicker than standard, but he wasn't betting on that.

He was betting on the way he felt, on the senses that told him Buffy was rapidly getting stronger, and healing quicker. She'd even run faster soon enough, and it was inevitable that his girl was already immortal.

The last was something they'd talked about fairly often, because the concept of eternity was strange to a woman who had never believed she would live longer than a hundred years, at the most. It was a paltry amount of time to a vamp; Buffy would feel the same after she lived it.

The worst part of this would be when she lost her family and friends. Spike suddenly felt incredibly grateful for Darla, a fellow immortal being who would no doubt make living forever much easier on his mate.

Buffy might love him, but she couldn't lose everyone else she cared about in this world, not without suffering deeply each and every time. Darla was one less person she would have to, sooner or later, live without.

He knew it had been a severe concern of Buffy's at one point, but after resigning herself to the claim and its finality, she'd also begun to accept the negatives of living longer than her friends and family. She once told Spike that as long as everyone she cared about lived long, happy lives, Buffy believed she could get through it. And, as long as she had him at her side.

As of now, she was only concerned with the present, and that was how she needed to live. She had the whole of eternity ahead of her now, and since they were mated, their connection would remain eternal, too. Even in the afterlife. Whatever that turned out to be.

It made Spike a little nervous, not knowing, but he was sure Buffy wouldn't fall into a hell dimension. She couldn't. The Powers That Be wouldn't allow it, even if she loved a vampire. Spike knew he and Buffy would always be together, for a claim was an unbreakable bond, he just didn't know how.

He didn't know how his evil self was going to remain at the side of an angel, because that's what Buffy was, a pure, unpolluted soul, with so much love in her heart that Spike was warmed every time she looked at him.

Perhaps he would be allowed into a heavenly dimension. There could be no peace for him if he and Buffy were separated after death, and The Powers might not care about that, but they'd care about Buffy. She wouldn't rest anywhere without him either. There might have to be a place of neutral ground, somewhere they could both go together.

The world was filled with gray, there was very little good and evil, black and white. Everything was indistinguishable. The Powers had to have a way of dealing with those shades, especially when they created them

As Spike pressed his face into Buffy's wealth of hair and inhaled her scent, he was ridiculously appreciative for the meddling. No matter how irritated he'd been at the beginning, he had the love of his life and unlife in his arms now, because of The Powers That Be and their pairing methods. As it was, Spike planned on making sure he and his mate lived together on this earth until doing so was no longer possible.

"Why are you all with the gloomy?" Buffy murmured.

Spike blinked and looked down at her just as she opened her eyes. "I thought you were sleeping," he said.

"I was just dozing. Then I felt you getting all tense and serious. What's up?"

"Nothing, sweets. Thinking about some things is all."

"What things?" she urged.

"It's not important."

"I say it is. Tell me."

Spike sighed. A knot formed in his stomach, but he relented when he saw how curious she was; he wouldn't be able to convince her to let this go. "I was thinking about where we might end up when we..."

"What?" she asked, her green eyes filling rapidly with perceptiveness. "When we die?" At his strained, and somewhat abashed expression, Buffy nearly guffawed. "Seriously? I never realized you could be so depressing."

"I didn't mean for you to figure where my mind went, irritating chit," he quipped.

"I know, I know, it's just..." Her voice softened. "I don't think you have to worry about any of that. I mean, I think we'll be together... in the end. I know that claims are... well, they're strong bonds."

"Unbreakable," Spike said. Devotion laced the word.

"Right. So why wouldn't we get to be together after...?"

"There's nothing saying we wouldn't be, I'm just not sure... how it'll be done."

She scowled. "Wow, you really were getting philosophical over there, weren't you?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm evil, love. Traditionally, once you're a vamp, you're damned. But you're good, Buffy." He frowned as the words to explain himself appeared fitful in his head. "I'm figuring there's got to be some middle ground where we'll both settle after we call this world quits, because as much as the blokes at the top don't care about me, they care about you."

Buffy's scowl only darkened, and she placed a hand over his quiet heart. She thought on what he was saying, trying to ignore the pit deepening in her stomach. As much as she truly believed things would work out for them, talking about a death she couldn't even estimate the time of anymore unnerved her. Talking about Spike's death almost made her sick.

After a moment of worrying her lip between her teeth, Buffy raised her eyes to his again. "I don't think they'll damn you, Spike."

"Because I'm with you," he reiterated.

"No, because you were chosen to be with me."

He shook his head slightly. "What are you getting at?"

"Well, you said vampire and human claims were rare, right?" At his nod, she added, "And that if you get stuck with a human mate, you don't get any others to choose from, right?"

Again, Spike confirmed her reflection, and Buffy said, "Then there has to be a reason why only a few vampires are meant to have human partners. Maybe it's not just a roll of the dice. Maybe it means that there's something special about you."

At his silence, and the apprehensive look that had entered his eyes, Buffy carefully went on. "Mated pairs aren't guaranteed love," she murmured. "And you said that a lot of vampires don't know how to love, but you do. Darla does. Neither of you are normal, and it has been hard to understand that for me, but now that I feel you..." Buffy trailed off, before taking a deep breath. "You saved my sister Spike, before you even knew she was my sister. You thought she was just some girl."

He clenched his jaw, muttering a curse. "I knew you'd hate me if I just passed by without doing anything. I didn't help her because I wanted to, pet. I did it because I didn't want to disappoint you."

Her heart warmed and she had to halt a gasp from leaving her lungs, but Buffy gathered her wits quickly, and said, "That's not even typical vampire behavior from what I've read Spike. You, and Darla, too, are very... weird, for lack of a better word. I think maybe those Powers That Be you talk about realize it."

What she said made some bizarre kind of sense, but Spike knew too much about his own past to be so inclined to agree with the theory. "You don't know what I've done." He shook his head, and looked down. "You couldn't love me if you did."

She glowered so fiercely at him that Spike felt it in his bones and glanced up again, only to widen his eyes after meeting hazel green orbs of glinting anger. "You obviously don't realize how I love you then."

He sent her a timid, question filled look, and Buffy sighed with disgust. "I read about you, okay?!" A terrified panic entered his eyes, but Buffy went on. "You might have told me some things, and I know that if I had kept asking you would've told me more, but I found a couple books about William the Bloody, Spike, The Slayer of Slayers- You have a lot of names for one person. The point is, I found information, and I read until I wanted to cry."

The panic swelled until it was a living thing, running through his muscles and hardening every one. Without his conscious control, Spike's grip on Buffy tightened, clutching out of fear of her leaving the bed, leaving him.

It was one thing to have a claim keep someone with you; it was something completely different to have them stay because they loved you.

"I know what you are, and what you've done, but it doesn't make me love you any less."

He tirade ended with that final sentence, but a hollowness had filled Spike's chest, rendering him speechless. He didn't feel capable of talking, and Spike knew that if he tried, the only thing to come out might be a breathless whimper. She couldn't have read all the details of his past, and still treat him like he was good enough to touch her. She couldn't have.

Yet she did. "Maybe that makes me a selfish person, to some," Buffy said, "but I don't think so. As upset as I was, not even the claim can explain how I feel about you. You're a monster to so many, but you're also a predator. And still you treat me like a man should. You care about me. That's what I was scared of; of you not-..." She shook her head and ran her hand up his chest and neck, finally resting it where his pulse would be if he had one. Her eyes were filled with understanding, and devotion. "I didn't need to worry. I know that now. Neither of us can change the past and you had no reason to change, Spike. You're a vampire. I love you in spite of the evil things you've done... and I don't think we would have been chosen for each other if The Powers didn't believe you had the ability to control your impulses, given a reason."

Spike swallowed. His teeth were grinding together as he pulled Buffy on top of him. If he ever lost this woman, in life or in true death, it would utterly destroy every part of him. "I'm not a changed man. I'm still a demon." He wanted to weep over the admission; Gods help him, but he would try to do good, if only for Buffy. Always for Buffy.

She ran her fingers through his hair, managing to inhale a shaky breath even with him squeezing her body so tightly. "You once told me that you wanted to give me what I deserve, Spike. As far as I'm concerned, you are exactly that. And more."

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Smut, smut, and more smut. I hope you guys enjoy! And thanks so much for reading and reviewing! :)
_________________________________

They stayed in bed all day, sheets tangled around their limbs, acting more like heavy anchors than gentle cloth traps when it came to getting up. Need of the bathroom, or when Buffy's stomach growled loud enough, were the only true motivators to leaving the room, though it was never for long.

Late in the evening, they had finally agreed to dress and go down to the kitchen. There, they found another note from Darla hanging on the fridge.

It simply said, "I'm meeting Faith at the Bronze. Don't worry, I'll be home late." Buffy was left to wonder how long it would be until Faith called to offer congratulations on her new living sex toy; and yes, Buffy was sure that would be exactly how Faith put it.

Spike's conceited smirk after reading the note didn't help Buffy's blush at all. Honestly, she wondered how she was still capable of that, but stopped caring when he kissed her in a way that made concern over reddened cheeks wholly irrelevant.

She was lying against him now while a warm night breeze flew in through the window and made the curtains dance. Buffy really didn't want to go back to work on Monday, much more partial to the concept of staying in bed with Spike for several straight weeks instead. However, things that were less fun, things like work, demanded to be noticed, and she really shouldn't blow it off.

As if her thoughts had traveled on the wind, Spike draped an arm over her stomach and said, "Couldn't you take a few days off from Wingfield's, love?"

She smiled resplendently, closing her eyes as he stretched his naked body along the length of hers. His cock pressed against her ass and Buffy moaned softly. "I shouldn't. I've already run out of sick days, and Willow's a great boss. She lets me get away with stuff most other employees couldn't."

He groaned in complaint, then in pleasure as she arched her back. "It'll be hard, staying away from each other for nine hours." He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "The claim might not be able to handle it this early on."

A hand of his was trailing down her front, heading for the apex of her thighs and pinching a nipple along the way. "It's not like I'll be working late." Her words preceded a blissful sigh. "I'll get home early if I can," she said.

Spike let out a low growl, cupping her pussy, spreading her silky folds wide and slipping his fingers between them. "I'm tempted never to let you work late again," he said, in a voice filled to the brim with heat.

Buffy certainly wouldn't complain if he did. After what happened last time, she didn't even want to go back to the office, much less stay there until the sun went down. However, she did have to go back, no matter how much it rankled the claim, or how badly she missed Spike.

"I can take a long lunch," Buffy said, then gasped when Spike plunged two fingers inside her body, her thighs clenching around his hand as he began to nuzzle and nip at the mark on her throat. He slipped his other arm underneath her, keeping her locked against him.

"Do that," he told her. "In the meantime, spread your legs."

She couldn't help but comply.

"That's my girl." Buffy's nerves turned into pudding as he started plucking at her body like she was made of harp strings, drawing out vocal appreciations that she couldn't control. Trying to bend in a way that would gain added friction from his teasing touch got her nowhere. Buffy's writhing twists became erratic and jerky, but Spike just pinned her roughly to the mattress, and snarled at her to stay still.

Fighting the urge to beg and clutch the sheets, every inch of her body tingled as he slowly moved down her side. He turned and pressed his face into her panting chest, absently licking her erect nipples on his way before tonguing a circle around her belly button.

Buffy's hips rose off the bed right after they were flattened there, her stomach clenching. Spike's lips encouraged goose bumps to rise on her legs, and he placed wet, tantalizing kisses all around her pussy, nipping and tasting her skin.

His face changed when she whimpered his name, and Spike gently pierced the spot beside her hip with his teeth, drawing out a spoonful of blood. A shout rung out from her lungs, followed by rushes of air as Buffy tried to catch her breath. He soothed the wound with his tongue and growled. "Mine."

She shuddered. "Yours."

A familiar pulse of power ran through them, the connection lighting. Buffy and Spike gasped in unison. The vampire licked his way downward, and finally stroked her swollen clit with his tongue. He moved torturously slow, his moth watering at the first touch, the first taste.

His own scent was mixed with Buffy's, calling forth to the demon. It was enough to make him dizzy, and Spike dived ever deeper, wanting to immerse himself in her.

Her bones rattled beneath her skin when he dipped his tongue, curving it as he entered her. Spike groaned loudly, and the vibrations were enough to pull a whimper out of Buffy's throat. He was savoring her, causing her to groan and thrash, moving incredibly slow with every plunge and caress of his wet tongue.

He drew back and started lapping at her dripping entrance, before returning again to the throbbing crux at her cleft. He went on and on, torturing her. Tasting her and inhaling her like one might a fine wine. Buffy felt a coil of heat expanding in her abdomen, travelling higher until it was begging for release and she found herself voicing the need. "Spike, please, I need-" He sucked her clit into his mouth and growled, making her shake violently. "Spike!"

He pulled back and a despairing shiver coursed down her spine. "What do you want, Buffy?"

She struggled with the words, part out of embarrassment, part out of lack of coherence.

He demanded an explanation, unsympathetic to her rambling pleas that didn't sound like English. "Tell me what you want, or we'll keep this going until you do. And let me be very clear when I say that I've got no complaints in staying right here." He sucked on her clit again, hard and achingly long, just to demonstrate exactly where he meant, just in case she'd forgotten.

Spike had to grab her hips as they immediately shot off the bed. He pinned them in place and went at her again, licking and diving into her soaking entrance, nibbling on her folds and then tracing her clit distressingly slow. The delicious sensations rolling through Buffy's body made her mind foggy and every thought disjointed, until finally, she groaned, "Spike, make me come."

The vampire smiled rakishly, then ordered, "Say please."

Buffy nearly gasped at his audacity. But then he was playing with her clit again, this time between one of his fangs and his tongue, causing blackness to invade on her vision. "Please, make me come!"

A chuckle. "Since you asked..." Spike did not disappoint. He filled her wet pussy with two long fingers and curled them just so, then began moving them in and out as he continued delicately nibbling her clit, until finally licking the little bundle of nerves rapidly as his thrusts deepened. He finally retracted his fangs, and planted his mouth and tongue entirely over her pussy, pressing, slurping, moaning. Her hips broke from the flat surface of the bed once more in uncontrolled jerks, and he reliably held onto them as a loud, high pitched cry left her lips. A pleasurable wave swept through her, and all Buffy knew was bliss.

Her eyes popped open as the world began to slow its swirling, and colors were revived, but before she could even fully come down from the high or catch her breath, Spike moved up her body and entered her in one harsh drive. Groaning as her fluttering walls clamped around him, Buffy moaned lowly in return and arched into his thrusts. His mouth found her neck and Buffy felt stubborn ecstasy rolling back to her.

He changed again, then hastily left her throat to lower his fangs to her breast, imbedding them and drawing on the hot blood. She whimpered and Spike growled, electricity cutting along every nerve ending he possessed before Buffy's lips opened on a silent gasp as another orgasm, dizzying and languid, spilled through her. Their climaxes went through them both like a shot, and their bodies fell boneless.

Spike's muscles, once taught, slowly relaxed and began to tingle with brilliant aftershocks. His body was overflowing with pleasure and peace. His demon was purring, and he realized belatedly that the sound was reverberating through his chest, announcing his contentment. Nothing in the world felt so good as lying with Buffy, listening to her catch her breath as a grin of satisfaction and happiness crossed her beautiful, flushed face.

Nuzzling into her hair and neck, Spike kissed softly, smiling against his mate's skin.

Buffy reached up to stroke the back of his head, running fingers through his curly hair. She frowned when she began to feel faint, from the pleasure and the lack of blood, she supposed. Spike's panting breaths could be heard clearly as they fanned across her neck, but Buffy's vision grew hazy and black. She swallowed and tried to focus, fighting the bizarre dizziness.

The claim was happy, as was she, but her body apparently wasn't quite equipped yet for the appetites of a vampire mate.

She felt Spike freeze above her, and worry edged its way into her awareness from his side of the connection. "Buffy, what's wrong?"

"Dizzy," she sighed.

He swore and quickly pulled away from her. She groaned in complaint and closed her eyes again, then felt Spike's arms envelope her. He supported her head in one hand. "Breathe, love." He massaged the nape of her neck and murmured nonsense as she curled against him.

Buffy moaned quietly, then reopened her eyes and met his worried gaze with a smile. "That was fun," she said lightly.

Spike didn't seem to find her cute. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Just got a little dizzy. I'm fine now." Her mind was already beginning to clear.

"Bugger." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken so much blood. The claim hasn't prepared you for that just yet."

Buffy shrugged. "I'm okay, Spike. Really. I like the bite-y stuff." She traced circles on his chest and lowered her voice to a whisper, smile never waning. "I just need a little time to replenish my stock for you, I guess."

Her joke fell on deaf ears, and Spike continued to look at her like the concerned lover that he was. Buffy felt both shame and anxious worry coming from him, and her gaze softened as amusement fell away. "Spike, I'm really okay. We'll just hold off on the biting for a while. It's no big."

He gazed at Buffy's reassuring face, the same face that seemed definitely too pale for his liking. Spike kissed her softly on the lips before rising from bed, draping the sheet over her. He grabbed his jeans off the floor.

"Where are you going?"

"Downstairs to get you something. Stay in bed, I'll be right back." He pulled the zipper of his Levis up, then strode from the room, ignoring Buffy's questions as he headed to the kitchen.

***

Less than ten minutes later, Spike returned with a tall glass of orange juice in hand.

Buffy was pretty sure she went, "Awww," as he sat down, at least in her head, because Spike gave her a fleeting scowl before handing over the glass. She took it readily. "Drink up."

Even rolling her eyes affectionately, Buffy followed his order nonetheless, swallowing three mouthfuls before setting the juice in her lap. She twitched her nose and asked, "Are you cooking?"

"I found hamburgers in the freezer, put one on the stove for you. It'll be done soon."

She blinked. "I hardly ever eat meat, you know that right?"

"Tonight's going to have to be one of those rare occasions then. You need iron, and I won't have you passing out on me."

As suddenly as a smile graced Buffy's face, warmth spread through her whole body like a honeyed shot of whiskey, replicating the fire. Spike could be incredibly doting at times- most of the time -and it never ceased to leave her feeling spoiled. "Thank you."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, his thumb gently rubbing around the prominent bite mark on her throat. "No need to say it."

"Too bad." He grinned at that. Then Buffy's nose twitched again, and she thought maybe a hamburger didn't sound like such a bad idea. "So, should we go downstairs?"

"Impatient one, are you?"

"I'm hungry again," she admitted. "You have a way of increasing a girl's appetite."

He grinned. "Don't I know it, baby."

***

"Have I ever told you that you're a pretty good cook?" Buffy asked while she finished up her meal. The burger was done medium-rare and tastefully spiced, and Spike had even put it on a bun with all the trimmings to perfect her simple dinner.

He chuckled at her compliment, refilling her empty glass with more orange juice. "I believe you have, Goldilocks."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, for both the nickname he seldom used, and emptying the Tropicana container. "Spike, that's the third glass you've poured me."

"And?"

"And? I'm beginning to feel like if you squeezed me I could refill it myself. Enough orange juice."

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her gentle laughter, but capped the glass off at half full before putting the juice carton back in the fridge.

"How are you feeling?" Spike asked, once he turned back around.

"Much better," Buffy said. "You're also a good doctor."

He smiled. Then, the phone rang, and he frowned hard upon glancing its way.

Buffy stifled a groan and went to answer it, hoping Darla wasn't in trouble, or Faith stuck in jail, or Dawn at the hospital. Before calming her erratic thoughts, Buffy cut the loud ringing in half and greeted whoever had interrupted Spike and hers Time Away from the World, something she had chosen to call their secluded Saturday unbeknownst to him. Anxiously fiddling with the tie on her bathrobe, she said, "Hello?"

"Oh, Buffy!" Willow's relieved voice sliced through all half formed concerns just like a blade. "I'm so glad you're not in bed yet. At least, I hope you're not- weren't. I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, I was up," Buffy reassured, smiling softly at Willow's fretful drop in tenor. "What's going on?"

"I just needed to tell you something about the jewelry pieces Mr. Finn brought in yesterday."

Buffy froze. Those words managed to accelerate her heartbeat as fast as a near stumble down a staircase. A hard swallow went down her throat. "Oh," she said, hoping against hope that Spike couldn't hear what they were talking about. "Did he want to take them out of the auction?"

"No, but Riley told me he forgot to bring a few in, I guess. He called as soon as he realized it earlier today." Her boss sighed quietly, as if she might be shaking her head. "He wants to stop by with them on Monday, and I just wanted to warn you so you didn't think I was up to anything fishy."

Buffy inwardly groaned. She could feel tense energy coming from Spike now, and despite the injustice of it, she could have clobbered Willow over the head for being so thoughtful. "Oh. W-Well, thanks Wills. I- I think you should tell him to just drop them off at your office, though."

"Oh. Okay, sure, I can do that," her boss said. "But wouldn't it be kind of like taking the long way around?"

Buffy thought quickly. "Well, I um... I won't be in Monday."

"You won't?"

"At least, I... I hope you'll allow me the day off," she rephrased. "I kind of need a long weekend at home." Blowing off work again suddenly seemed imperative, what with the tension vibrating off the vampire in the room.

She could practically hear Willow frowning. "Sure..."

Buffy sighed, acknowledging the only thing that would grant this day of freedom without issue, and grasping at it like the proverbial batch of straws it was. "I met a guy. And it's... it's gotten really serious."

The following gasp of delight nearly made Buffy roll her eyes, even as she smiled. "A guy?! Who?! Who is it?!" Willow squealed.

Buffy shook her head in silent disbelief at her friend's predictability. "I know that it's a completely personal and unprofessional reason for missing work," she said, "and I'll make up the hours. I would just like-"

"Oh, don't worry about that!" Willow said. "You can have three days off if you want, just tell me about this guy!"

Buffy grinned fondly, holding in a giggle. "I'll tell you all about him on Tuesday. I promise. And, could you maybe help out Mr. Finn for me?"

"Done."

"Thank you so much, Willow. I'll see you later."

"You are welcome. Talk to you soon, Buffy!"

She hung up the phone, and almost closed her eyes as she turned around to face her vampire. Biting back a sigh, a tumble of emotions rattled her nerves as her gaze locked with his. Spike stood scarily still, but his jaw was deceptively tight and his hands had clenched into fists.

"So, the bloke came by your office, did he?"

There was the steel coated, tensely voiced concern, frustration, anger, and worry all poorly hidden behind a question mark. "Yesterday," Buffy answered. "He brought in some jewelry pieces that needed to be looked at."

Spike glanced away, his eyes settling on the countertop. A muscle moved behind his cheek before he said, "He was the reason you had to work late, wasn't he?"

Buffy shrugged, trying in vain to calm her fluttering nerves. "Kind of." The emotions flowing in from Spike were tumultuous and messy, sadness and fear and just plain possessiveness twisting into an upsetting blend. She approached him calmly, unafraid and her heartbeat slowly winding down to its natural rhythm.

She reached for him and let him jerk her body in close, barely even blinking. Feeling him against her only managed to calm Buffy further. "Spike, I never liked the guy. And I was not hiding the fact he showed up at the auction house, okay? He's a client and that is all."

The vampire nodded, but laughed a bit harshly when he said, "Is that why your nerves jumped two feet when your boss called just now and brought it up?"

"No." She held in another sigh. "It was because I was worried about your reaction, and I hadn't said anything to you yet. I didn't want you to think I was hiding something."

One nice advantage about this whole being able to sense each other's emotions thing, Buffy thought, was that Spike knew she was telling him the truth. Better still, he believed her with or without the ability to feel her honesty in his bones, simply because he trusted her. She felt his trust, and it was a gift like no other.

Still, as fear and gloom dropped away, possessiveness refused to deplete. She hastily braced herself as a fire grew in Spike's eyes and his hold on her body took a turn for unbending. The claim was buzzing.

Buffy stared at him calmly, even as a gulp went down her throat, and her thighs clenched together.

"Spike..." she hedged, flattening her palms on his rising chest. It was so comforting sometimes when he breathed, but not like this. Deep, ragged inhales lifted the muscles beneath her hands as he worked to control himself. The breaths were distressing yet exhilarating. She broke eye contact to try and think of something to say, and that was a mistake.

He grabbed her chin and directed her gaze back up to collide with golden eyes, a predatory glitter swallowing her in their sights. She could feel the immensely overcoming urge he had to sink his fangs into her, and it excited her, but Buffy knew he didn't want to do it all the same. She'd lost a lot of blood already, and he wouldn't take more of it yet.

Which only riled the demon further.

Yet there was not a bit of fear. Just a familiar desire pooling in her gut. Buffy actually took notice of an invisible imp on her shoulder who silently whispered: *Run.*

She shoved by before Spike could recognize the teasing impulse. Giggling as she sped from the kitchen and up the stairs, he followed close behind.

Buffy laughed with delight when he spun her around and hoisted her into his arms, clutching her fidgeting body and pounding up the remaining steps. He snarled at her to quit moving, and Buffy stilled, excitement racing through her veins. Before she knew it, he had made it to her bedroom.

She had to shake her head. No, now it was their bedroom, impossible to think anything different. Her privacy wasn't so private anymore, and a seldom acknowledged void which had taken up residence in her soul some time ago, seemed to be filled for the very first time. Something that was deep and irrefutably connected to her heart with its strong, roping strings, had embedded deep with certainty.

It felt faultlessly right. Domesticity without complete normalcy. Instead of a ring on her left hand there was a bite mark on her throat, and there wouldn't be any children, but there would be eternity. There was no need to immortalize their names, Buffy and Spike would live through the centuries. The primal unity was only beginning to take shape, and brand them both with its matchlessness and perfect fit.

It was the fire in Spike's crystalline eyes. Hot blue flames that locked onto her after she was thrown on the mattress. It was in his rough caress as his knee depressed the sheets and his hands worked on touching her everywhere they could. It was in his silent commands she followed without questioning the assuredness with which she understood them.

It was the certainty of always knowing the steps to a forever lively dance. Their dance.

His fingers undid the tie around her waist and spread the sides of her robe open, baring her naked body to his greedy, possessive gaze. The need in his eyes was as palpable as the one she could feel swirling in her gut, familiar and hot, always overwhelming.

When he touched her breasts, and pinched her nipples with blatant satisfaction as a little gasp escaped her throat, new animalistic light roped around every nerve numbing caress. Every single smoothing of his palms over her skin, each useless breath that whispered from his mouth, and all the weight he pressed upon her after removing his jeans and stretching along her body. It was like being branded, the chill of his skin cooling hers, the claim immersed in a kind of zealous comfort she couldn't define but with one word: Belonging.

Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike. She could feel the need he had to let his demon out, the thirst to drink from her, but instead he remained unchanged, his weight supported by his elbows and her hips as he stilled above her. That fire refused to give out in his eyes. He stared blatantly and with certain confidence, an encompassing look that encouraged a tickling shiver to run over her skin.

She started to feel lightheaded again, but it had nothing to do with blood loss or hunger. This time, it was because Spike was holding her, crushing her breasts to his body as his gaze shimmered back and forth between blue and gold like a magic trick. Yet the moment he pushed inside her came unseen and without warning, accompanied by an ecstasy rush potent enough to screw with her equilibrium.

It didn't hurt. It never did. But it was a surprise which quickly dissolved into pleasure and shock as he picked up a rapid pace, a bruising rhythm of dip, deepen, and withdraw. Buffy gasped and clawed him closer to her, losing herself in the predatory rumbles coming from his chest.

One of his hands moved subtly off the bed to grip the nape of her neck. He was lifting her face up to his throat. Buffy's jaw clenched on a particularly hard thrust, then the spiraling started. A wicked twist of Spike's hips made her cry out. Her legs had wrapped around his waist long ago, and now her teeth were pressing against his jugular, aligning with the imprint of her claim on him.

He wanted her to bite. The possessive, harsh drives he took her with and the absolute lack of space between their writhing forms spoke volumes, and she knew she would be able to read him like a book even without the ability to feel everything, without hearing his words that followed the opening of her jaw on another high note.

"Take it," he ordered, his voice seemingly too close yet far away at once. "Take it." The words slipped between thrusts like the grunts and moans slipping from her mouth. Before he could demand it again, Buffy clamped down on his throat with her teeth as her inner walls clamped around his cock, squeezing, pulsating. Blood poured onto her tongue as that distinctive feeling like a key clicking in a padlock enveloped her, the kind of rightness that she only ever felt when in his arms.

Spike released a growl that was harsh and earsplitting, and the room spun away as his hard thrusts hit the perfect, most sensitive spot inside her, belatedly rubbing against her clit with every move as he roared his release. Buffy's moan of completion hummed passed his ear and ecstasy rattled her bones.

The waves of heat and lust rolled away like quiet ships on the ocean, carrying Buffy's consciousness with them.

Then, all of a sudden she found herself flipped on her stomach, and let out an "mmph" sound as her sweaty back rippled beneath the cool air that hit it. Spike had pulled swiftly out of her body, but before Buffy registered the unquenched desire coming from the claim, and felt Spike's lust quickly making a comeback, he slipped two fingers inside her wet pussy and curled them on the upstroke. She moaned despite the lethargy weighting down her limbs, and then let out a throaty groan which just made him chuckle.

Evidently, the vampire wasn't done with her yet.

"Not even close, kitten."

Did she say that out loud? Buffy realized, upon turning her head to peek at Spike in her foggy peripheral, that no, she hadn't uttered a coherent word for some time now. He just knew. The claim, and the vampire's ability to read her, owed to a connection that had nothing whatsoever to do with the claim, enabled him to understand her silent thoughts as clearly as if he was reading them on paper.

She had the same capability oftentimes. And now, as he worked her tired body into another frenzy, and got her writhing atop the bed sheets once again, she knew he was planning to make her see stars. Spike wouldn't be satisfied until he depleted his own endurance and succumbed to exhaustion, which Buffy couldn't see happening anytime soon.

She moaned as he withdrew his touch so slowly that her legs twitched in agonized pleasure. She could see his cock just starting to swell again, underlining his status as more-than-human, and knew he was only playing with her.

Yet something told Buffy nothing was quite so simple right now. Not with the intent, "wheels-turning" look in Spike's eyes.

His hand which had previously been shaped around one of her ass cheeks, moved down to take his cock, and he began stroking it while watching his fingers disappear inside her. They glistened with cum, hers and his own, and only grew wetter after every dip and withdraw.

Spike bit his lip before curling his tongue in a way that made Buffy spread her legs wider for him. She was starting to pant, and nearly every nerve in her body was humming with splendid heat, even as she tried to gain friction from the mattress.

The strokes on his cock sped up slowly. He started squeezing himself in a way that looked almost painful, but couldn't have been anything less than satisfying for the way he groaned. Spike continued to watch her with greed and lust, just as she watched him. Buffy's hips rose and squirmed, but he kept up a slow rhythm as he fucked her with his fingers, even while the pulls on his erection frequently changed pace. Drops of pre-cum gathered at the tip and he massaged them into his skin before groaning, twisting the moisture around his length to mix with what was left over from their last shared climaxes.

Then suddenly, his hand was gone, and Buffy whimpered harsh and loud. Spike was teasing, and her mouth watered and her thighs trembled and her neck burned all for the need to have him inside her in some way.

His hand that was coated with her slickness moved to replace the one on his cock, and she could just barely contain her gasp as he spread the moisture over his skin, nostrils flaring. Buffy gulped and her pussy clenched. Then, like an answered prayer, his previously busy fingers that had caressed and played with his swollen cock entered her in one swift more. She grunted and gasped at once, and couldn't care less that her hips shot off the bed.

Before she knew it, she was begging. "Spike. I need you- Oh..." Buffy's fingers pulled on the sheets as her lungs worked to bring in air, hot whispers leaving her in exhales she desperately needed. "Please. I need you inside."

Resisting that, was near impossible for him. Spike bit back a groan and removed his fingers from her warmth, nearly sighing at her lustful whimper. He directed her to roll over then move to her knees as he did the same. Still stroking his erect cock, Spike said, "Open your mouth then."

For an instant, Buffy froze.

There was truth to using the word "simple" to describe her past love affairs. None of them had been anything even close to wondrous, and creativity was certainly limited in her experiences. A blowjob, while mundane, was something she'd only done twice. It had to be related to the fact that nearly each of the men she'd slept with were on the fast track out of her life not long after the first romp in the sack. There had been little time for exploring her partners' bodies, and very few opportunities she had granted them to explore hers.

A frightening insecurity stemmed from those relationships that Buffy hardly ever allowed herself to think on. Now, with Spike kneeling above her and his request- rather, his demand -freshly spoken, it felt like every buried concern about inadequacy rushed to the surface. She had nearly done this for Spike several times, once before they had even completed the claim, but for some reason, now Buffy was suddenly hit with extreme insecurity steeped in lack of preparation.

She swallowed hard, recognizing the desire to please him and deciding to act on it rather than letting her worries best her. After all, Spike was practically guaranteed to enjoy whatever she did, with him being a guy and all, not to mention that he loved her. The fact he was a vampire with heaps of experience under his belt- pun not intended -shouldn't scare her. After all, she'd known it all along, and had never given it a second thought before.

Buffy refrained from physically trying to shake the worries out of her head. She supposed she should take the task in hand, as it were, before he noticed what her thoughts were undoubtedly exposing through their connection and he-

"Buffy?"

-said something. Closing her eyes, biting back a sigh, Buffy straightened up so she could comfortably meet his eyes. She then scooted closer. "Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

There was a sultry coarseness to his voice, lust coating his words. His hand never stilled its movements between them, and the awareness of it made her bite her lip. Conversation might be difficult at this point, what with the wetness pooling between her thighs, and yet Spike was still asking if there was anything wrong, even though his desire had not waned in the least.

It took a few seconds to answer. "Nothing's wrong," she said, her tone calling forth an eyebrow arch from him. "I... Well, in the past it was all just pretty cut and dry with the other... other guys I've..." She nearly winced at the snarl that erupted from his throat.

Okay, so he really didn't like her talking about any intimate partners that weren't him, even if there hadn't been very many things "intimate" about them. Not compared to what she had now, with this vampire who was staring at her like she held both the world and his heart in her hands. "Spike, I'm just trying to explain to you-"

"I get it, pet," he cut her off, eyes severe. "Haven't tasted flavors outside vanilla, have you." It wasn't a question, the way he said it. It was simply a stated fact.

Spike seemed to be losing the grasp on his control, pale chest rising sporadically with useless but steadying breaths. Buffy reached out tentatively to mold her hand over the one he stroked himself with. Her vampire groaned quietly, a hard blue stare softening into one of tender adoration, yet still outlined by that possessive heat that made her knees quake. It was enough to encourage Buffy to run her fingers over his bare skin, and the subsequent whimper that fell from his lips was one of the most empowering sounds she'd ever heard.

"I just..." the full admission tumbled out, "haven't done this very much."

Something flashed behind his eyes, then more territorial warmth enveloped her body like a cloak. The times he stared at her like that were the times when Buffy felt both like royalty, and a woman purely in need of a command. It was a lustful, exhilarating combination.

"No?" he asked, a large hand folding over her tentative fingers now. He wrapped them completely around his length and started guiding her strokes. An ache settled deep in her womb.

She shook her head, eyes locked with his. "Twice, if I'm being honest."

The light flashed again, followed by an eagerness she wasn't sure should make her feel so nervous, but then again, Buffy was currently fighting every instinct that told her to look away from Spike's expressive eyes. He conveyed so much in just a glance, and it was always enough to make her anxiety either wither or thrive. Often, it did both.

Her lungs expanded with a deep breath. She moved her hand faster, stroking up and down his rigid cock, her thumb poking out from beneath Spike's fist to circle around the head. He hissed quietly, and she said, "They weren't very... educating experiences."

Spike chuckled, a dark and silky laugh devoid of hilarity. "Well, love, if you're interested, I'll gladly be your guinea pig."

She looked at where her hand worked to drive him wild. Spike couldn't understand how anyone lucky enough to get Buffy in their bed wouldn't thank the Gods for every single second and love her properly, indulge in everything they could together. Though it sent him into a jealous tizzy just thinking about another bloke touching her, Spike had to mentally examine the notion that others had, and apparently taken it for granted. What idiots.

Even now, Buffy proved her inexperience without words, with the way she gazed hungrily at the motions of their joined hands before uncertainty flashed in that green and black stare when he let go.

Buffy licked her lips and squeezed him on an upstroke, drawing forth a throaty moan from the vampire. "I thought you could be my teacher," she said.

Spike breathed needlessly, his abdomen tightening at the ideas that flashed through his mind instantaneously, explicit clips from numerous dreams. Before he could talk himself out of it, let concern overtake the desire to glide his hands into her hair, Spike allowed his lust and the reassurance of the claim to conduct his motions.

"I'll guide you, yeah?" he said, and at her ready nod between his palms, Spike encouraged her to crouch lower on the mattress and turn around. When she let go of his cock, the loss was an acute deprivation that vibrated like an electric shock through his muscles.

Spike quickly moved to the head of the bed. He leaned back and spread his legs, and Buffy sat between them. He reached for her and she placed her hand trustingly in his, making him smile. He brought her touch back to the throbbing dilemma lying against his stomach and she resumed her actions of a minute before.

His eyes rolled and the heat from her hand branded him, making the demon purr in satisfaction. Spike thrust his hands into her golden hair again and tugged, bringing her lips closer to his. "When you're ready, Buffy," he breathed, "I'm yours."

After a nod at the reassurance, she let her instincts take control. Buffy stroked as roughly as she thought she should, then squeezed when Spike said not to worry about causing pain. Her fingers still couldn't meet her thumb around his girth. Watching him and hearing every encouraging sound or word that fell from his mouth emboldened the twists and pulls of her hand, the sensation of his fingers gently massaging her scalp relaxing, and further depleting tension.

A thrilling kind of power sizzled in her veins at the sound of each moan or gasp from him. Looking into the near abyss-like blackness of his eyes as he watched her made Buffy's thighs stiffen and her stomach clench. She was torturing them both with this game, and before another doubt could make itself known in her mind, she dipped her head and led a trail of wet, vicious nips and kisses over his chest, to his navel, all the way down to...

He growled with the first tentative lick, then again when she pulled back to nibble and peck kisses around his hipbone. Buffy didn't take long to maneuver her way back to Spike's cock, the strain on her scalp encouraging. Her lips left him untouched, but her tongue glided along the underside from his base to his tip. The groan that followed made her smile like the Cheshire cat, and she repeated her actions again and again until an impatient growl had her looking up.

His eyes were flickering between blue and amber gold again. The sight made her shiver, as did the quick snarl that erupted from his chest when she finally realized how badly her mouth was watering. She spread her lips around him with a slow gentleness that spoke of both tease and worship.

He hissed when Buffy first sucked on the head of his cock, tenderly as if she might be afraid of hurting him. He knew she was taunting. Evidently, the bundle of earlier hesitancies had disappeared the moment she got a taste of him, because now she was experimenting, learning him, suckling and nibbling on his cock like it was a lollipop.

The tactics she chose spoke little of inexperience, and more of insecurity which quickly waned. His fingers clenched in her hair, pulling on it. He could barely resist the urge to surge up into her mouth, shove himself down her throat. She had once offered him this kind of delicious torture before, but he'd declined because he knew he wouldn't have been able to leave her unclaimed if he'd felt her lips around his cock. Now, with the connection between them, alive and fresh and powerful, something told Spike that she'd thought of doing this more than just once.

Except almost doing something, and thinking about doing something, were both very different from actually doing it. The time was finally right, and Buffy's initial timidities were fast depleting, leaving behind a greedy vixen who seemed to like to play games.

When she took him fully for the first time, bringing more than half of his erection inside her mouth and hollowing her cheeks, Spike's eyes fell shut as a loud groan escaped his throat. She sucked hard as she rose up, the bobs of her head quickening after she found a rhythm, and her hand stroked and fondled what her mouth couldn't take.

She started moaning as the grip on her hair tightened. Soon, Spike was fisting the strands and guiding her head up and down, faster as she hummed and swallowed around him, drawing the loveliest noises from his chest. Gasps and pants and little growls echoed above her head as Buffy worked with her tongue and lips, eventually scraping her teeth ever so gently across his length.

After the enthusiastic response from that move, she tore her head slightly out of his hands, and moved lower. Slowly she caressed his heavy balls with her tongue; it had always been an intriguing idea, but she'd never gotten a chance to try it out before. Any doubts concerning the pleasure it could bring were quickly destroyed when Spike's hips jerked at the first touch.

She pumped her hand along his cock, alternating now between teasing and sucking on one erogenous zone, then the next. Spike's eyes were closed tight, his nostrils flared as he pulled in useless breaths while an expression of blissful arrogance and yearning fell on his face. He was gorgeous, and the tightening of his fingers in her hair only made Buffy more anxious to please him, keep him moaning and groaning like he was.

He shuddered when she swallowed around his cock again, a look of pure adulation shining in his eyes when he opened them. "That's it, Buffy. Suck me off. Harder now- Ahh..." She hummed and then nibbled at the tip of him, tonguing the weeping slit. He groaned again and suddenly, Buffy found her mouth forced over his length. She quickly hollowed out her cheeks and sucked hard.

Spike's hips went from gently rolling into her movements, to rising off the bed. He held her head in place now and Buffy could feel the tip of his cock gently stabbing the back of her throat. She slipped a hand beneath him to clench his balls, massaging them and moaning around his hardness.

The pressure was building, she could feel it. His moans were sounding more and more like growls with every drive his cock made into her mouth. The heat in her gut turned into an inferno, and the grip on her hair became truly painful. Desire pooled between her legs, and the harshness with which she sucked on Spike's cock matched the way he drove into her, her pussy throbbed in need and Buffy removed her encircling touch from him to relieve the tension. Slipping two fingers into her wetness, shuddering at the contact made to her clit, Buffy rubbed herself roughly before dipping inside her pussy to alleviate some of the begging need to have Spike there instead.

She hummed in pleasure and then in surprise when Spike growled so fiercely she felt it in her bones. She looked up at his face, and almost gasped around his cock. He swallowed her whole with his yellow stare, hunger and impatient need sitting there as he watched her finger herself and suck him off at the same time.

She knew what it was, why that combination of unsatisfied lust and greed glittered in his eyes. He wanted to be touching her, he wanted her pussy walls clenching around his cock, but the desire to spill his seed down her throat kept him in place, kept him holding onto her hair as he helped push his erection between her lips over and over again.

Finally, like an overwhelming crescendo, Spike moaned and snarled as his hips jerked violently beneath her bobbing head. He froze her movements and roughly pumped himself between her hollowed out cheeks, while Buffy thrust her fingers deeper and faster into her body.

His abdomen tightened, and he cried out just before a snarl of "Fucking hell!" left his lips. She worked her throat muscles to take everything he gave her, happily noting that his taste was certainly bearable, if a little strong. Spike's hands held her steady, and her fingers worked frantically to bring her some kind of release, but focus on making sure she swallowed every last drop distracted from reaching her own peak, and Buffy hummed in delight when she felt Spike relax beneath her.

She heard him breathing in gulps of shaky air, and it made Buffy smile around him. She very slowly let his cock slip from her lips, and her hand moved from between his heavy legs to spread out over his chiseled abdomen. She laid her head on his hip and continued to work herself with her fingers, albeit at a much calmer speed now.

It took maybe five seconds for Spike to reach down and haul her body on top of his. Buffy's gasp was swallowed by his kiss, inhaling her, greedily biting at her lips. He grasped the hand that was caught between her thighs and pulled it up, breaking away from her mouth to suck on the coated digits. He kept her wrist still and gently licked away her juices, being careful not to nick her with his fangs. He moaned in delight and Buffy felt another pool of moisture gather at her apex. Her whimpered "Unh" didn't do much except make Spike chuckle, and it certainly didn't sate any cravings.

Before she could worry over whether he was going to torture her or not, and find a way to haul ass to the bathroom and work herself off if he chose to try and be just as evil as he often claimed he was, Spike let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her now clean fingers. "Teacher says: You get an A." He met her eyes, his ridges and fangs looking somehow more sinister for the smile he bestowed upon her. "But you lose credit for cheating."

Buffy frowned, even as frantic desire buzzed hotly in her veins. "I don't-"

She found herself flipped yet again, landing on her back and Spike poised above her with clear intent. "It's not fair, teasing a bloke with that tasty quim of yours while he's getting sucked off. Makes it difficult to choose what he wants." Spike leaned in and kissed her hot cheeks, then her neck, until finally he grazed her throat with his fangs and whispered, "Besides, I know of a few things you like much better than just your own fingers inside you."

She didn't have time to say a single word. Spike crawled down her body with the speed of an impatient, hungry predator, and began circling and massaging her clit with his tongue. Buffy gasped and groaned and whimpered throughout it all, a smile plastered on her face as he tortured, tasted, and finally sent her flying.

A scream of completion came with momentary deafness, but during the rush, a fond, beautiful emotional tide sped through Buffy like a wave. The kind of heartwarming, steadying knowledge that allowed for pure abandonment of every concern and fret. She felt Spike's love for her, and she felt the sturdy holding of the claim, the connection that had brought them together and would never cease to keep them that way.

She felt peace, and a sense of coming home.
____________________________________________

END NOTES: Please review and let me know what you thought! (I promise the plot returns in the next chapter.)
The title for this chapter was inspired by a song with the same name: "Never Like This" by Danielle Bradbery. I highly recommend listening to it on youtube! :)

Sunday morning came in fresh and easy, like lemon zest or a breath of rain scented air. Though it carried along threats of the real world, unaddressed concerns filtering in like bitter coffee grounds, it also brought the sort of comfort that came with settling in. Like couch cushions depressing under your weight after a long, hard day. A relaxing, comforting peace you find with intimacy in new things.

Knowing she didn't have to go to work tomorrow resembled the silent melody of a piano, joyful and delicate. The quiet creaks of Buffy's footsteps on the way downstairs reminded her that she was alone, and the house was warm and inviting, greeting her with proverbial open arms. The bedroom had remained a haven for quite some time, but Spike was still sleeping now and Darla had not come in until very late last night, so she was also dead to the world, leaving the first floor to be conquered by a well rested woman in need of some coffee.

Buffy leisurely descended the last few steps and took a deep breath, smiling at the emptiness in front of her. She looked up over her shoulder to where Spike slept, and though she always felt the desire to be near him, and the claim was already telling her to go back to bed, the quiet solitude of the first floor beckoned, too.

Besides, he would be awake soon. Once the demon stirred upon realizing she'd left, Spike would make his way downstairs to find her.

Buffy pulled her robe tighter around her body and padded into the kitchen. Warm air all around, the smell of freshly cut grass wafted inside when she opened up a window.

Buffy smiled, feeling a kind of peace she had never experienced before. Her heart beat steadily beneath her breastbone and the comforting scent of coffee grounds managed to clear her head when she started a fresh pot.

Trailing into the foyer and leaving the sunny kitchen behind, glancing up at the empty stairs once again, Buffy shook her head at herself. Claims were obviously deeply veined with impatience.

She opened the curtains in the living room and looked at the late morning sky. The sun was high and the grass as green as emeralds, the sky a ridiculously light blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. A perfect day, unblemished, divine weather and shoulders free of burdens. Days like this seldom appeared in Buffy's life.

Or lasted.

She turned her perusal of the front yard to the driveway, and the serene expression fell.

Right. The car. The car her evil, undead dad had helped fuck up. Her father who was dead, gone for good, and whose demise Buffy needed to report to her sister. The weightless feeling in her chest suddenly dispersed, replaced by lead.

Buffy didn't know how she'd forgotten. It was easy to live in the moment when she was with Spike, easy to let her happiness bloom and her worries drift away. There must be missed calls from Dawn. They had spoken on Friday, before the upheaval that was Hank Summers showing himself at Wingfield's Auction House, but Saturday had come and gone without sharing a word.

Buffy felt guilt settle in her belly like a cold brick. She went to check her answering machine, the one located on the counter below the kitchen telephone. Sure enough, there were messages lighting up the red, robotic looking number three, and Buffy had to take a deep breath before pressing play.

Dawn's voice, slightly anxious, echoed throughout the room. "Hey Buffy, I haven't heard from you today yet, and with you-know-who running around I just wanted to check up. You know, like we've been doing for days now... Please, give me a call, before I start really freaking out, okay?"

Holding her breath, Buffy waited for the next message to start, nearly jolting in surprise when Darla's familiar voice came out of the small speaker box. "I took a guess, and of course, I was right. Dawn was worried when I called her to explain you hadn't met up with... well, your father. She thinks you asked me to call her because you were stuck at the office helping Willow with something art related. Fortunately for me, and you since now you can edit the story however you choose, she didn't ask for details. If you don't call her until tomorrow, Sunday that is, I don't think she'll worry. Oh, and by the way, I'm making this call from Faith's cell phone. I believe she's going to use it to call you in a minute and leave a message of her own so, stay tuned."

Buffy released the breath she'd been keeping locked inside her lungs, sweet relief arriving like a wash of cool water, nearly making her laugh. God bless that vampire, and her major good thinking in relaying this news through a message that Buffy wouldn't miss.

Before she could consider what sort of jewelry to buy Darla, Faith's voice, vivacious and loud, blurted from the answering machine like a foghorn. "How is it that Darla and I are out, looking hot as hell as we draw in the guys like bees to honey, I'm holding a strong drink in my hand, and yet I'm jealous of your sleazy night in? Come on now! I mean congratulations on the new boy, B, but as soon as you're done breaking him in, I have to meet him. I want my friend back, even if she comes with a dude attached at the hip!"

Buffy snickered, shaking her head and walking away from the telephone to pour herself a cup of steaming hot coffee. The reality of how near she had come to upsetting her sister bothered her, but Faith and Darla's messages definitely carried lightness and reprieve with them.

It was a close call, which left Buffy feeling less guilt ridden than she had only minutes before. Honestly, she should have realized something prevented Dawn from wigging out, otherwise she would have come kicking the door in before the sun went down on Saturday.

Buffy sighed, her forehead wrinkling. Not knowing exactly what to tell Dawn yet about Hank was a shadow nestled in the corner of Buffy's mind, chilling her every time she glanced its way.

Talking to her sister was unavoidable, and that ugly fact made her heart race. There were so many things to explain, so much to discuss and reveal, and Buffy had no idea where to start.

The truth was nothing as mundane or acceptably normal as any of the other tragedies they had faced in their lives. Talking about this, about their dad and the related vampire things, wasn't going to be simple in its shock or its sorrow.

Hank's death was so impossibly different from anything Dawn had ever heard of before. Different from the time she found out her first boyfriend was seeing another girl behind her back; it would lack such youthful disappointment. And it wouldn't compare to the time when "divorce" started echoing throughout the hallways. That news had been followed by ailing hope and endless questioning of why, why, why.

Hank's death, the first and the dusty one, would bring pain, of course; acute and difficult to understand. Buffy and Spike starting a life together, an eternal one at that, was too surreal, too dark and unknown to people who didn't understand it to conjure an emotional response one might be able to predict. This wouldn't feel to Dawn like it'd felt to Buffy when Xander had told her he was falling in love with her little sister.

Absolutely none of it would go over with a smile and a nod.

Buffy abandoned the promise of fresh, hot coffee, leaving the kitchen empty handed to have a second look at her damaged car. She was a glutton for punishment sometimes.

The damage really wasn't extensive, if you pulled your gaze away from that rear tire. There was a small dent on the corner of the hood, a shallow flaw to remind her that anything could be used as a weapon with enough incentive. Her trunk lock was broken, too, but if it'd been left slightly open she couldn't tell from this angle.

Her eyes clouded with memories. She didn't want to relive it all. There had been so much fear and desperation, disappointment and grief. Grief for her father's soul, and for the chances she never got; the ones he might have taken to ask for forgiveness. She would never know if he would have wanted it, more importantly, Dawn wouldn't know either. Her younger sister was supposed to have a baby soon, and maybe, just maybe, Hank might have shown up to meet the child. He could have seen his grandson or daughter, and felt remorse for leaving his family behind after the divorce. He could have made amends. Dawn would have forgiven him, even if it took some time.

Buffy didn't know if she could have ever recognized Hank as her dad again, didn't know if she could have accepted an apology laced with need to be let back into her life. A life that he had always been a huge part of before turning a blind eye to it, eventually throwing concern for Buffy away entirely.

There was always something sad and unchangeable about the burning of bridges. You didn't realize you might need them again should you turn back or travel in circles, not until you saw the ash filled waters rippling at your toes and had no means to cross without getting your feet wet.

No, Buffy really didn't think she could have forgiven Hank for neglecting his responsibilities, for turning them into a choice, something to give up. There was too much unsaid about abandonment, and it wasn't completely hers. Being tossed to the roadside hurt too much not to feel a twinge when grazing over the long aged scar, yet hers was a pain secondary to knowing Dawn and Joyce had suffered. Buffy was certain she could never have pardoned her father for that.

Unfortunately, she had also lost the ability to find out if he would have ever tried. Dawn had no way of seeing him again, and even though Buffy knew she herself hadn't turned Hank into a vampire, and who was to say whether the man would've ever realized his mistakes and try and right them, it hurt to remember that any semblance of possibility was now gone. Her dad was dead.

That mental reiteration of the facts almost numbed her from the inside out, but not quite. Buffy didn't notice she was crying until a droplet fell on her hand. She uncrossed her arms and blinked rapidly while wiping at her eyes. A fresh, burning sensation of guilt melted on her tongue, tightening her throat as it slid lower and went to gather in her stomach like tar. There was a presence behind her then, a familiar one that immediately brought comfort and relief with it.

She tried to hold back her tears and breathed deeply as Spike's hands brushed over her shoulders. They smoothed down her arms and tugged her into a shadow, and Buffy heard him say, "I'm sorry I had to do it."

She spun around and looked him in the eyes; they were full of nameless fears and regret. A deepening pit was imbedding itself at the base of her spine, hollowing her out. Spike's uncertainty and thick fears were shoveling him into the ground, and Buffy could feel it.

She lifted dampened fingers to his cheek. "I know you are." Her voice, soft and soaked in honesty, soothed the lines on his forehead.

Wrapping her wrist in a gentle hold, Buffy molded her hand along the side of his face and looked into his shimmering eyes. A blue she could never find anywhere else. A shade lined with love and prayers for acceptance, gazing at her in adoring hope. She'd never been looked at by another person before, the way Spike looked at her.

Buffy swallowed down her constricted throat. "I don't hate you for it, Spike. I- You know that."

Valiant, overflowing gaze, two tiny blue lakes with unreachable bottoms staring, trying so hard to believe what she said. What Spike could feel through a connection that didn't lie, could only be misunderstood. He opened his mouth, jaw slackening as words surged out like an antsy river. "I know it. I can sense it. There's more to this than a feeling, though." He squeezed her wrist in his hand, soft and strong at once. "I did what had to be done, took care of it, yeah? But it hurt you, and logic doesn't exactly stand out bright an forgiving-like in the circumstances, now does it?"

She couldn't disagree, that was true, but she didn't need to. Her heart and head had sorted themselves out sometime between two zealous nights and a summer day. She knew exactly what she felt. "Spike, I..." Her hand drifted downward to cover the bite mark on his neck, and a soft rumble tickled her palm. She smiled tenderly. "I don't blame you. I... I didn't hate him, and I know I didn't want him dead. But the vampire... what he became, I needed dead. And may- maybe a part of me wanted that."

Spike pulled her hand away, squeezing it gently when she broke eye contact and looked down. He lifted her chin and said, "Buffy, you've got more kindness in your heart than anyone I've ever seen on this bloody planet. And I'm an old bugger, met quite a few faces." Her soft puff of laughter was a welcome comfort. "I'm not the best example when it comes to morals, but whatever you feel, I reckon it's normal. Just wish that..." He clenched his jaw. "Wish I could've found another way. Prevented it or..."

Buffy squeezed his hand and said, "If I had never met you, Spike, he would've killed me and Dawn." She sighed when his eyes widened, blue color alighting with objection. "That same part of me that needed to protect her, needed him dead. And I'll never hold it against you for protecting my sister. Protecting us."

His jaw did its clenching while his eyes sparkled with that wonderful, overwhelming look of awe and admiration. Buffy could hardly believe she was on the receiving end of it, no matter how many times he looked at her that way. Just like she would never get used to the way his hands held on, like she was indestructible splendor but he'd never touch her with anything short of loving fingers.

Spike stepped as close as he could, her chin framed by his thumbs. "You're not helpless, Buffy."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. But vampire versus human just doesn't sound like a chance I'd want to take."

Spike's lips curved into a soft, almost-there kind of smile. "You're not entirely human now." Gently, his bruised hand trailed down her arm. "Would imagine you could pack quite a punch if you were so inclined."

Buffy glanced down at their linked fingers, then smiled, green eyes glittering with a teasing light. "You want to test it out?" she asked, reaching up to trail a fingertip down the middle of his nose. He slipped into demon face and nipped playfully at the tickling digit, before yanking her forward and kissing Buffy on the lips.
She moaned, pleasure rippling down as Buffy lost herself in his taste. Spike suddenly pulled back and said, "I would, actually."

She was panting. "Would what?"

He smirked, slipping back into human visage. "Test it out. Your strength, sweetheart."

Buffy frowned. "What? How?"

"Going to teach you how to fight."

She nearly balked. "You're what?"

He pressed forward, smirk still very much present as he leaned towards her throat. "C'mon Buffy. I want to see how long it'll take until you can kick my ass clear across a room."

Her eyes crossed as he licked a cold path up her neck. "Think I'm already capable, Spike, but if you insist..." She sighed when he started nibbling her lobe. "I'll let you help me perfect my kicking abilities."

He snorted quietly, mocking laughter whispering into her ear. "Mmmm, high kicks. Tell me you'll wear a mini-skirt."

She swatted his chest. "Perv."

Another nip at her earlobe. "Didn't hear you complaining last night."

She clenched her hand in his T-shirt. "I'm a good girlfriend that way. I only complain when you're being pervy and we aren't in the bedroom."

Spike's lips left her skin and Buffy stifled a moan of complaint. His blue eyes appeared in her vision and her heart sped up in reaction to his feelings. Spike hid it alright, but for the first time, Buffy's body reacted in tune to a jump of excited giddiness that was definitely not hers. She blinked in surprise before glancing down at his quiet chest, then back up to Spike's sharp eyes. "Girlfriend then?" he said.

"Yes." She tapped her chest. "I felt that."

"What?"

"My heart skipped. Like it was supposed to be your heart, though."

He tilted his head. "Not surprised. Read sometimes that happens. And my ticker ain't exactly been ticking as of late."

"So I feel it- Or, felt it. I felt your heart skip because... because you liked me calling myself your 'girlfriend.' "

He shuffled his feet, looking down and hiding his eyes. Buffy suddenly felt her cheeks warm. "Oh my God," she gasped, "You'd so be blushing right now if you could."

His head snapped up. "I don't blush."

"Then how do you explain this?!" She pointed at her cheeks, red as beets.

"Think it could be you, Goldilocks?" he asked dryly. "Considering you go all rosy at the mere mention of-"

"You're adorable." She perked up even further, ignoring his fierce glower as the embarrassed and lovesick, boyish side of him bloomed right before her eyes, sourcing the flipping sensations in her stomach.

"I'm not a bloody rabbit, you irritating-"

"I love this. I'm your girlfriend," she stated once again, very proud of his reaction. "And just because some of your body parts are of the deader variety, I get to feel how hearing that would make your tummy flip if it could. Why didn't this claim-y bonus kick in sooner?"

"Still receiving the benefits, I guess," he grumbled.

"Have you always felt this way when I say something like that?"

He refused to answer.

Buffy smiled wider. She'd never noticed just how much Spike could look like a shy young man, but here he was, barely able to meet her dancing eyes and her face burning with borrowed embarrassment. Pouting sympathetically, Buffy moved closer. He had stepped away to gain distance from her teasing.

She gently wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head fell to his shoulder, and Spike's hands found her hips despite the stiffness in his spine. "You're more than welcome to be adorable around me, Spike. I won't judge you."

She must have said something that he liked, because her cheeks were finally simmering down as his arms came up to fully envelope her body. The drumming of her heart played against his solid chest. A chest that carried more inside than even she had first realized. Buffy hugged him tighter, and said, "I want to see all of you, and if that means I blush more than normal, then I say bring it on."

He chuckled very softly, then planted a kiss in her hair. He didn't raise his head right away, instead keeping his nose and lips down and breathing her in. "You're more than I ever wished for, you know that?"

Buffy leaned up to kiss him. After a good thirty seconds of ardent lip locking, she pulled back to say, "I want to know the man I'm basically married to. And, I love you. Do you know that?"

He nodded with a sparkle like that of rain on a city sidewalk in his eyes, magical, and a matching smile on his face. "I love you, too, kitten."

"And," she said brightly, grabbing his hand to lead him into the living room, "now that we're a couple, all claimage and bond-y stuff out of the way, I think we should do some couple-y things."

So did Spike, but he guessed she wasn't talking about that right now. "Like?"

She waltzed over to the TV, turning it on along with the old VCR that sat in the cabinet beneath. "Maybe cuddle on the couch..." She stood up and graced him with another exultant grin. "Makeout while a horror movie plays in the background. You know, couple-y stuff."

He grinned boyishly, and her heart turned over. "I think you know you've got your own monster right here, love."

"Yeah, but I can't kiss movie monsters. They're just for effect."

"So's that all I am to you now, a set of lips?"

"And fangs," she agreed perkily.

Spike smirked again and tugged her into his arms. "Cheeky."

Buffy laughed. "C'mon, I have a lot of good old horror flicks Dawn and I used to scare ourselves with. It'd be fun to watch them again with a real vampire on my arm, don't you think?"

Spike stared into Buffy's bright, shining eyes, his heart feeling lighter than it ever had before. She was an angel for a sinner, a golden light in the midst of this godforsaken world, something worth more than blood. Seeing her so damned happy was more than he could ask for, and knowing he was the cause for such a glow in her eyes splattered peace and utter satisfaction across his soulless self like paint. The demon within was as content as a sleeping puppy, and Spike could deny Buffy nothing when she was smiling at him with love seeping from every laugh line. "Pop one in, then. Let's get the telly on."

She shoved him to the couch and headed for the TV cabinet, swiftly rummaging through movie titles. Buffy prattled on about each one, her anecdotes skirting the edges of ruining the plots, waiting for his opinion a mere second before describing the next film Her voice cadenced between serious and animated. Breathless and expectant by the end, Buffy stared at him, and Spike hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"So, what one?"

Bloody hell, his girl was beautiful.

***

They fell asleep. Again.

It must be something about the couch, Buffy thought as she blinked her eyes open. She turned her head to look up at the relaxed vampire holding her. Her hair spilled over his lap, Buffy's shoulders covered by Spike's right arm while the fingers on his left hand pressed into her nape as gently as they might flip the pages of a book. When she saw his head was relaxed in sleepy abandon against the back of the sofa, she nearly giggled.

As Buffy sat up, she noticed drool was starting to trail down his chin. She couldn't be grossed out if she tried; he was just too cute. Absently rubbing her temple, Buffy remembered how they'd managed to get through one movie before she rallied the troupes of her courage and called Dawn.

A quiet yet tangible support roped through her body during the length of their conversation, Spike remaining at Buffy's side the entire time. She told her sister that their dad was no longer around, carefully answering Dawn's following questions with half truths and vague misleads Buffy knew she'd get a kick in the shin for later. A flat out lie about work was sufficient enough for the calmer inquiries concerning the brief interlude into their recent string of daily phone calls.

Now they could go back to not fearing for the other's safety so acutely, as Hank Summers was long gone.

After hanging up, Buffy felt sick. It was a wonder she hadn't fallen asleep immediately following Spike's neck rub and gentle kisses upon her eyelids. He knew how to calm a girl down nearly as good as he could rile her up, and that, Buffy found, was an endearing combination of qualities.

She shut off the blinking TV with the remote lying on the other side of Spike's lap. She pulled the edge of a curtain back so she could see out the window, and found that the sun was still high in the sky. Buffy glared a little bit at the sudden appearance of a man turning on his lawnmower across the street, knowing that despite the faraway sound, the machine may just wake her sleeping vampire.

Buffy dropped her hand and let the curtain fall closed once again. She glanced at Spike with his open jaw and curly hair, feeling a familiar warmth spread through her chest. He looked absolutely boyish, carefree, as young as one could hope to be when living an eternal life. Time held no meaning anymore, but that special beauty Buffy saw in Spike and the peace on his face right now spoke of so many significant things.

Tenderly stroking his cheek, even knowing he might wake at her touch, Buffy smiled and noticed his skin lacked the evidence of forgetting to shave. She should have realized it before, after all, she'd never seen Spike with a razor in his hand. It was odd, though, as he had hair that grew in other places and she could even see the very beginning of dark roots showing from beneath bleached curls.

Another vampire trait, apparently. Maybe whatever hair they had when they died as humans was what remained after they rose as undead, but none grew where they had before been bare. If that wasn't it, Buffy was out of guesses.

She smiled again as Spike smacked his lips and leaned into her caressing touch. She covered his sharp cheekbone and looked again at his hair, twisted into short tangles. Hers was no doubt also in need of conditioner, and suddenly, Buffy was hit with the notion of taking a shower.

A brilliant idea, as she acknowledged the fact she and Spike had been wrapped up in each other and seemingly unending pleasure since Friday evening now. They had completely forgotten about the world, for the most part, and that included beautiful inventions such as indoor plumbing and shower heads.

Wake him, or let him sleep? Hmm...

If she left, he would rouse sooner or later, probably before she even finished in the shower. If she woke him up, the shower would take twice as long. While the idea of getting all soapy and sudsy with Spike was definitely of the good, Buffy had the most awful affectionate instinct to let him sleep in peace.

Just as she was about stomp down her lustful urges and tear herself away for a record breaking fast cleanup, Spike's eyelids lifted. Twin blue orbs stared at her in fond familiarity, and her heart jumped.

His cold fingers reached up and tickled her wrist, then hand, and she sighed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Didn't," he said. "Wouldn't mind if you had, though. What's been running through your head?"

"You know something's been running through my head?"

He smiled in that sinful way, the one where her toes curled without her permission and heat spread through her womb in both remembrance and anticipation. Spike touched the soft spot beneath her chin, goose bumps rising at his command. "Always do, sweetheart."

She grinned brightly and dove right in. "Feel like a shower?"

Immediately, his pupils expanded like pooling ink blots. "Prefer a shower over a bath, then?"

"Whichever."

He smiled iridescently, and even more wickedly than before. "Can't find fault with either, really."

"Then we'll decide when we get there." She rose and reached out a hand. The couple walked to the stairs, lost in quiet whispering conversation before their eagerness had them scaling the steps with gleeful impatience.

The bath water turned cold long before they were done.

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END NOTES: Alrighty, there are only four chapters left! I hope you enjoyed this latest one, and please leave a review! And thank you guys so much for reading! This story has really be a ton of fun to write and I can't thank you guys enough for your reviews and for putting up with late updates and stuff. *BIG hugs!* :)

The wonderful sensation of lethargy, familiar in its presence, yet seemingly unable to wear out its welcome. It pulsed in pleasured shots through their bodies as Spike and Buffy fell upon the mattress like one big knot of limbs, in a room filled with new nostalgia and the smell of sex.

They dozed off like two forgetful cats in the shade. Spike woke before her sometime later. He inhaled and drew her aroma into his lungs, clean, light, sweetened by shampoo and a natural essence that reminded him indistinctly of white chocolate, decorated with his scent. Shining blonde hair had sprawled over his stomach, caressing the pale skin with its softness.

Spike breathed needlessly once again, and followed it up with a contented sigh. He stretched his legs, very carefully keeping the rest of his body motionless beneath her.

Exhausting each other, apparently, was their forte. No blood was drawn in the bathtub, but the tile was probably still wet with the evidence of their lack of care. He and Buffy forced themselves to be quiet for Darla's resting sake, despite the note mentioning earplugs, but silence merely invoked sharper rapaciousness. The strain bled through their muscles to spasm and twist until the floor was decorated with soapy water.

Spike smoothed Buffy's tresses, his fingers gently combing through damp gold. His stomach would be growling right now if it could. Hunger for Buffy far surpassed his hunger for blood, and he'd neglected physical nourishment for several hours. Daylight was nearly gone, night having crawled across the sky like a deep blue blanket as the sun set.

He could hear Darla pattering down below in the kitchen, doing what he didn't know. Spike also heard crickets beginning a familiar chorus outside, their early summer tune ringing in through the window. A warm breeze followed, dark curtains dancing as it flew in.

He loved this. Loved the peaceful comfort of Buffy's breathing landing on his stomach. Loved hearing her heartbeat echo reassuringly in his ears. He could live forever and never be more at peace than he was right now.

Spike had never tasted contentment, not before he met Buffy.

A fond little smirk spread across his lips. Once she accepted him into her life, that is. The fighting was fun, sure, but it didn't compare to everything they had now.

He knew they still had one thing left to take care of before they could rest their heads and hearts, and Buffy could truly settle. Talking to her sister, after all, meant too much to simply brush it under some rug that would eventually wither to threads and tangles anyway.

Buffy had already fibbed her way around actually telling Dawn everything, and she felt too bad about it to let those lies manifest into believable history. Spike also knew, from everything she'd told him, that Dawn would only be angrier with the more time that passed before Buffy gave her the real lowdown. It was a weighty batch of secrets his mate was keeping, and she yearned to relieve her shoulders, but it had to be done gently.

Spike wished for not the first time that he could take on the responsibility for Buffy, find a way to tell Dawn everything without leaving her with a sense of betrayal.

It wasn't likely. Besides, even if he had a plan that might garner a desired response, Spike understood that Buffy should be the one to talk to her sister.

The woman occupying his thoughts stirred in his lap, breath sighing hotly against his skin. Spike stifled a groan, and brushed her hair out of her face. She turned to look up at him. Her eyes crinkled fondly and his heart would have leapt if it could, then her smile merely grew from slight to wide, like a flower opening at sunrise.

And like the sun, she beamed at him, warm, with dusky glitter in her hazel eyes. "Good evening."

His brow flicked up. "Noticed the sun is setting, have you?"

"I hope you know you've completely ruined my sleep schedule."

"I try," he said.

She swatted his hip, smiling still. "What time is it?"

"Around seven thirty, eight."

"Is Darla up?" she asked.

Spike tilted his head. "Yeah, I can hear her downstairs," he said.

Two things arose, one emotion following the other before her face was a mask of uncertainty. There was an eagerness there, but none of it carried over into Buffy's voice when she said, "Good, I need to thank her for calling Dawn yesterday." Rising off the bed, she dropped the thin sheet from her hands. "I can't believe I haven't seen her for an entire day."

Spike watched her slip into that robe she favored. "We've been a little busy," he said.

The smirk was virtually touchable when he spoke in a husky voice like that. "We live in the same house," Buffy said, rolling her eyes.

"I wager she understands, pet."

"I know. I'm just anxious to see her."

He sent her a strange look. "Is there something bothering you?"

Buffy pulled her hair out from beneath the back of her robe, meeting his eyes and freezing in place. "Darla went out last night," she said, "because of us, and I just... want to make sure she's okay. You know?"

He frowned, blinking sapphire lit with confusion. "Not sure I follow."

"I want to make sure she had a nice time," Buffy added.

"She was with your friend, right? I'm sure they enjoyed themselves, got into all sorts of mischief."

She was silent at that, tightening the sash around her middle and looking down for the first time. Buffy nodded, without even glancing his way, and that's when Spike decided to stand. He approached quietly, confident in his nudity even when Buffy's focus locked onto the region below his belly button. She shook off a tremor when he drew closer.

He didn't touch her, though he wanted to, and denying himself the pleasure only heightened his craving. Instead, Spike stole the robe's sash from her fidgeting hands and rubbed its softness between thumb and pointer finger. He stared at Buffy's averted face until she looked him in the eye again. "Are you afraid for her?" he asked, catching onto something. "Did something happen?"

Her lips firmed into a tight line; inside, he felt her hesitance as powerfully as he felt her desire to speak. Buffy took a deep breath, and chose her words carefully. "Has it been hard to give up... to give up killing for you?" she asked him. Rather abruptly, too; it threw Spike for a loop. He gathered his wits quickly, though, and took a deep, needless breath of his own.

He thought about it, trying to figure out the best way to answer...

His mouth opened before his brain could weigh in. "Bloody hell, yes," he said.

She blinked at the admission, but offered no complaint or judgment. Rather, Spike could tell she'd expected it, and there was no excruciating disappointment glaring his way. Buffy nodded again, and the vampire found himself throwing out more before his brain could catch up. "It's been hard, love," he admitted. "But knowing that you... that I've got a reason to-..."

Buffy noted a significant shift in his eyes, something deep, and she was graced with that admiring look again. The one that always warmed her from head to toe, until her heart melted from the heat into a fast beating puddle.

"Knowing I've got you," he said, "and having the claim... It helps, love. It all helps. And I'd never dream of hurting you that way, putting you through something that would- I won't make you hate me. Christ knows I never imagined myself playing at being well-behaved, but I want to try. I want to be..." he glanced down, "good enough for you, Buffy. Not killing is hard for a vamp, but I'll gladly do it, so long as I have this."

Her stare swallowed him whole at the press of his hand, over her heart that beat in a staccato rhythm of exaltation.

Her gaze was something so pure, free of ulterior motive or hesitancy or immaturity. She made him feel... She made him feel alive with just a touch, made him feel worthy, even if Spike knew he wasn't.

She reached up and cupped his cheek. Damn, but he loved it when she did that, made tingles seep under his skin. He leaned into the touch, and then he felt Buffy's faith, her trust and belief, in him, and Spike had the thought that maybe... maybe he was worth something good.

Buffy didn't let go when she next spoke, and neither did he. "I think it's hard for Darla. She- We never really talked about her turning. I don't think it's a very comfortable subject." Her thumb brushed against his skin in gentle circles, as soft as her voice. "And truthfully, I don't know how to ask about it, or why she doesn't kill."

Spike squinted, clearing his mind enough to focus on what she said. "Personally, love, I think if she were to keep on killing, it'd be harder for the bird to control herself around humans. And that includes you."

Buffy's brows pinched together. "So... Wait. You think she doesn't kill because of me?"

He shrugged, either unaware or uncaring of her bewilderment. His fingers trailed down her breast, then over the covered area of her abdomen. "I wager she doesn't want you to be disappointed in her. So yeah, pet. It's what I can figure."

She dropped her hand, and Spike missed the contact immediately, but remained quiet as a breath rushed out from between her pouty lips. Mystification, and exasperation after that, dominated her flickering irises. "Why am I every vampire's moral compass?"

He chuckled. Buffy put her hands on her hips, flattered yet unsure of how to respond to what Spike's theory meant. "You're hard not to love, Buffy," was all he said.

Her frustration deflated like a popped balloon. Her shoulders relaxed and she glanced towards the door; longing pooled in her eyes. "Want to go downstairs?" she asked.

Spike pressed closer and laid a kiss on her forehead. "You go. I'll make myself decent and join you a minute."

She gave him a grateful smile, then pressed her lips ardently against his. Before he was able to deepen it, she sprung away like a butterfly catching the wind.

Spike smiled when he heard her light footsteps flying down the staircase a second later.

***

When Buffy entered the kitchen, the scent of something very light and sweet made her nostrils expand. Then, she found Darla, who was standing at the end of the island behind a white frosted cake.

A steaming mug was clasped in her feminine hands, and she sipped at it gingerly. There was a gleam in her eyes, a kind of feminine knowledge and brewing excitement for details. It took just one haughty brow raise for Buffy to start blushing like a china doll.

Furiously ignoring the warmth in her cheeks, she approached Darla and threw a hasty glance at the floor. "Thank you for calling Dawn," she said, recalling what she wanted to address, and further putting off the awaiting inquisition. "If you hadn't, it would have been bad."

Darla rose her left eyebrow in a dramatic arc again. "That's all you have to say for yourself?"

Buffy bit her lip, then stifled a laugh. The air was bubbling with curious energy, but you'd never know its source from looking at Darla. The vampire was cool, calm, and collected as ever; only someone who really knew her would be able to tell she was practically bursting at the seams with questions.

Buffy looked at the frosted rectangle on the countertop, diversion her temporary escape route. "You got a cake?"

"I ordered it from a bakery in town." Darla smiled very cheerily, and rotated said dessert so that Buffy could read the red lettering across the top.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Temporary, indeed. "'Just Married?!'"

That was it. Darla started to snicker, until long and loud currents of shameless laughter filled the kitchen.

Buffy pursed her lips, trying hard to keep her amusement locked quietly away. It was like the time when she had first kissed a boy in freshman year, and Darla bought her a congratulatory cupcake and gave it to her at lunch. "It's safe to assume that the cake is for me and Spike, right?" Buffy asked steadily. "Or did you and Faith get hitched last night?"

Between giggles, Darla managed, "Now, now, we didn't drink enough for that," she said. Then, "I hope Spike likes chocolate with strawberry filling." Buffy landing flashing eyes on her. "What?" the vampire asked innocently. "It's a gift."

"But the frosting?" Buffy pointed out.

"Is for my personal amusement, of course."

"Of course." Buffy shook her head, unstinted glee finally showing in a grin "Get me a knife so I can cut the damn thing."

Darla rolled her eyes. "You're already starting to sound more like him, do you know that?"

A moment later, a sharp cake knife appeared in her hand, and Buffy spoke as she took up slicing. "So anyway, did you and Faith have fun last night?"

Darla stared at her, before a serene nod accompanied her grateful smile in response to the question. "Yes, we did. Not one idiot human who doesn't have the sense to practice the buddy system in this town got in the way or tempted me with a fresh vein. The night was fun, but uneventful."

She paused in her cutting, glancing up to offer a look of encouragement. "I figured. Just felt like-"

"Checking on me?"

Buffy shrugged awkwardly. "Maybe... I was just thinking too much, that's all."

Darla shrugged. "It's okay. I appreciate it."

"You do? You don't think I'm like, being a mom or something?"

The vampire puffed out a breath of laughter that might have been a snort. "I can tell the difference between concern, and nagging." She set down her mug, moving nearer. "Buffy, how are you doing?" she asked, showing her own concern as the subject was changed. "Now that... Now that Hank is gone."

Buffy's lips snapped shut like a pair of cabinet doors, hiding the sounds of her grinding teeth. It was so easy sometimes to compartmentalize, separate her thoughts and worries like they were color coded. But when someone directly addressed one, she was often left without an ability to word her feelings; you would think English wasn't her first language sometimes.

"I- I don't-..." Her fingers tightened around the still handle in her palm. She took a deep breath. "I don't know how to answer that."

Darla nodded, picking her mug back up and remaining silent. She would let Buffy sort her thoughts out as best she could before asking another question.

A few moments went by, ticking silently away, until finally a response came. "I mean, he was my father but... that was before-" Buffy exhaled. "Spike killed a vampire, and I know that doesn't count for much, but the someone who had my father's face- just with fangs -was someone who wanted me dead. That wasn't my father." She sighed deeply, feeling a weight float quietly off her shoulders. "My dad stopped being... a dad when he left us. When he left Dawn and my mom, and me. But I know the difference between Hanks Summers the man, and the vampire that wanted to kill me. Spike killed him, and I'm okay with that. I think I'm honestly just trying to wrap my head around everything at this point."

Darla's wise eyes filled with something Buffy thought might be respect. Sipping at her drink, the blonde swallowed before she said, "And mourning your father? Even if he wasn't a good one, there was a time when... he used to be, and I know you must miss him. A lot of people wouldn't find it strange, though, even if you didn't. But I know you."

A hard frown settled on Buffy's face, and she shook her head. "I've missed him since he and my mom got divorced. Since way before he stopped even pretending to show an interest in us. Now that he's dead... I just have to- have to kind of..."

"Wrap your head around it."

Buffy smiled sadly, resuming her cake slicing. "Gee, where'd you get that notion?" she quipped.

"An intelligent friend who I care deeply about might have said something."

A short laugh, then a beat of quiet, and Darla decided that they'd talked about the unpleasant stuff long enough. She knew Buffy had yet to speak to Dawn about all of this, and she didn't want to touch on that subject and upset her friend anymore than she already had.

Instead, Darla tapped one manicured fingernail against the fridge door behind her, and said, "So, is leaving you notes going to become our chief method of communication until you and Spike wear each other out, or will I get to talk with you face to face occasionally?"

Buffy averted her eyes. "Sorry about the earplugs," she murmured.

"Don't be. It's your house, and about time you shared that bed with someone."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "How nicely put."

"Besides, soon enough it won't matter. I was thinking of... looking for my own place."

Buffy froze, her head snapping up once again like an unseen puppet master had yanked on a string. "What?"

Darla's charming smile sparkled with excited. "I've decided I'm coming back."

Dumbfounded, she blinked and added, "What?"

A scowl. "Say that again, please."

Buffy's lips spread and her teeth gleamed. She smiled so big that Darla almost didn't notice her move until getting knocked backwards into the counter. The vampire grunted, but hugged her friend in return and said good naturedly, "Break my back, why don't you."

Too busy laughing, and further displaying her joy by squeezing Darla like a stress ball, Buffy ignored her. She reared back to ask when this decision had been made, was Darla already looking at a place in the area, was it a permanent move?

Darla claimed she must have been away too long, because somehow, Sunnydale looked to have acquired a small amount of charm while she was gone, and after spending so much time with Buffy, she was more than just reluctant to leave; she was thoroughly disinclined.

"I can still travel," she said, "but for now, I plan on staying."

A few giggles and more hugging happened before Buffy released her and Darla added, "You and Spike will have this house all to yourselves shortly."

Resuming her post near the cake, Buffy looked down at it with an unwavering smile. "So we can knock the walls down, and wake the neighbors without disturbing you is what you're saying?"

Darla's eyes narrowed mockingly. "I'm only saying that for all that noise, he better have been good."

Before Buffy could answer, there was the sound of heavy footfalls in sync with the arrival of the aforementioned "he" and his rough cockney greeting to the other vampire in the room. "Evening, Darla," Spike said.

She smiled thinly at him. "Good evening, Spike. I'd like to ask, did you manage to break the headboard yet or-"

"Darla's moving back to Sunnydale!" Buffy interjected, her cheeks thoroughly reddened with both happiness and embarrassment. Was it impossible to catch a break? She wondered if perhaps she would acquire that same nice inability her vampire had to blush. Of course, if she did then it would be hard to tell when Spike got all flustered, and Buffy was rather fond of that trick. Ugh, necessary evils.

Her mate chuckled, at both the crimson color staining her cheeks and Buffy's sincere excitement. He came up behind her, planting a kissing to the back of her head. He'd already heard Darla's announcement from upstairs. "I know," he said. "That's great news, love."

Having felt numerous emotions coming from Buffy over the last five minutes, among them anxiety, amusement, sadness, nostalgia, elation, and others he couldn't quite identify, it was a relief to see her smiling now.

He'd really tried not to eavesdrop, but like a cat, curiosity was an affliction of Spike's, so he'd honed his senses and listened in.

He had been expecting more emotions to come up concerning her father, but it was safe to assume that Buffy was pushing her own feelings aside until she could talk to Dawn. Until that was done, he would not push or press her, and would encourage Buffy to confide in him when the time came.

Her startlingly bright, freckled green eyes looked at him, an expression of amused affront in them. "You were listening?" she demanded.

"That I was," he answered, unrepentant.

She only smiled, not bothered in the slightest. "Sneaky vamp," she remarked.

Spike tugged her more firmly against his chest and nuzzled at a place behind her ear, sending shivers through her whole system.

Darla cleared her throat. "This is why the cake," she said pointedly.

Buffy froze, a snicker slipping passed her lips; Spike slowly raised his head. "The what?"

"Aren't you the observant type," Darla said.

Buffy was laughing in his arms, and he looked to where she gestured at the island countertop. "What do you think?"

The message registered rather like a lightning strike. "When did we elope, pet?"

Buffy still couldn't help the giggling, really, she couldn't. His expression of absurd shock was just too funny. "Apparently, that's the equivalent of finalizing a claim. Didn't I say so once before, Spikey?"

Earlier, actually.

Buffy sent him another little grin. "It's Darla's way of saying-"

"Happy mating." She smiled cheerfully at the both of them.

Buffy set the knife aside and went to get plates. Spike dipped a finger in the white icing as his reaction wore off, and licked it clean, humming appreciatively. The joke was clear, but so was the show of support; Darla's way of making it known that she approved wholeheartedly of their "marriage."

The cake was good, too. Spike might be a fan of sweets overall, but this was delicious with all unbiased calculation, moist and rich, full of sugary flavor, and he didn't mind saying so. "Thanks, pet. Haven't had a slice of decent cake in a while."

Darla rose an eyebrow and blinked at him. "That was boringly civil. You're welcome, though."

"Yes, thank you," Buffy said, returning with three small plates and forks. "This was very sweet."

Darla rolled her eyes and then her shoulders, smirking delicately as she picked up a fork. "Let's be honest, it was worth seeing your faces."

Buffy dished up a middle square for her friend, a slim piece with extra strawberry filling for herself, and two large corner slices for Spike. She watched his tongue poke out to wet his lips in an expression of boyish anticipation, and tenderness erupted in her chest.

Darla soon opened a blood bag, and Buffy witnessed, silent and bemused, as the dark substance was trickled over white icing.

Darla handed the absurd topping over to Spike when he asked for it, and Buffy turned away before they could dig their forks in, focusing instead on the welcomingly distracting task of making tea.

Sooner or later, probably, she'd not even bat an eye at blood-topped chocolate cake, but until then, she would just refrain from looking, or rousing at Spike's chuckles that sounded far too amused. After all, she loved the silly vampire. What was a little blood-flavored cake, so long as she wasn't eating it.

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END NOTES: Hi all! So the next chapters will come very shortly. I have them written, I just need to edit and post them. This one was lacking in plot, sort of like the last three or four... I know, I know, I am probably overwhelming you with the cheesiness, but some things have to be resolved before we can get to Dawn- And I promise, we WILL get to Dawn. I hope you like that Darla is going to be moving back to Sunnydale. I just couldn't make her leave after rekindling her friendship with Buffy. And as for the Hank issues, I'd say they're- FINALLY -pretty much resolved now. For Buffy at least. ;)

Thanks for reading and reviewing guys! *hugs* Also, as you all know, reviews make me smile so feel free to leave them for this chapter! :)

It was Tuesday, and Buffy was reclining against her wide polished desk, absently scratching at her neck while she eyed a painting of unknown origin.

She tilted her head to one side. The piece was nice, in her opinion, but was it worth her time? At the moment, a recently discovered Monet probably wouldn't rouse her interest enough to inspire more than another perfunctory head tilt.

She could learn all the details about this oil painting, including the estimated date of creation, and she would. Buffy would also pack up her things in under five minutes and jog out to her car in heels after locking up the office. Her secretary was just about to leave, and Buffy's skin had started to feel like it was too tight to fit around her bones hours ago.

It was getting late, and also safe to say she'd neglected to get anything of importance done today. Her workweek had been cut short by a full twenty-four hours already, but facing the remainder of it was still daunting, hardly something she was looking forward to.

Buffy let out a sigh that spoke of resigned, undiluted impatience, one very similar to the many others she had expelled today. Her first day back at the office since putting a "Sealed" stamp on her relationship with a certain vampire, and all Buffy could think about was Spike. There were no withdrawal pains, because the connection was satisfied with its permanence now, but constant hunger for your mate was not at all easy to deal with, either.

Her mind knew she had to work. She still had an appreciation for art that ran deep through her heart like a river. There was no doubt she enjoyed her job. Matters of love and the soul tended to fog a person's mind, though. While half of it told Buffy she needed to remain at the office, the other half completely understood her current strife.

It was the same half that craved Spike like a caffeine addict who'd gone without coffee for three days might crave an extra large latte with a shot of espresso on the side. Buffy felt out of place, like something big was missing and she should keep checking in the mirror to make sure all her limbs were attached, because something felt incomplete.

It also didn't help that Spike's emotions burned through her nearly as vivid as her own. He felt hers in turn, as well, and so that only increased the calamity of missing and being missed. Her mouth thirsted for his kiss, her stomach clenched numbly with longing for his fingers to run across it, and her high necked tank top chafed at the marks on her throat. Attempting to hide them was not going to be easy until the bruising faded.

Things might have been easier if Buffy could have run home on lunch break like she'd promised, but a meeting bled into that hour and held her hostage. Spike understood, of course, but he hadn't been happy about it.

Now, she hurriedly packed up her thin leather work satchel and clipped it shut. She grabbed her purse and keys. Buffy freed her hair of its tight bun as she walked out of her office and pulled the door closed. She stuck the key in the lock and gave it a rough twist, smiling as she finally headed to the elevators.

She couldn't wait to get home, couldn't wait to fly into Spike's waiting arms like a scene from a cheesy movie and then bolt up to the bedroom. She had other things to do before the night took over and shooed away objectivity, but she was a woman deprived, and trying to do anything before appeasing the ache inside her would be a futile attempt at best.

She pressed the elevator button and tapped her foot. A sudden rush of cold seized Buffy's muscles, hiking her shoulders up when someone called out her name.

*No, no, not again-*

"Anxious to get home to your honey?" Willow asked as she approached, face shining with a familiar smile.

"A little," Buffy murmured. She had gotten grilled about Spike the second she came into the office this morning. It was safe to say more questions could detain her long enough that she believed her blood might set itself on fire, and an impatient vampire could arrive to accompany her home, only to find her chatting with her boss.

Buffy certainly didn't mind talking about him, and Willow deserved to know the details when she'd given Buffy yet another generous day off. She had actually gotten lost in relaying descriptions of Spike to Willow before work forced them away from the topic. However, talking about him was not as good as seeing him.

Buffy wished her boss could bring up this topic again on another day. At present, the blonde was very lost in a sea of longing and impatience.

"I can tell," Willow commented, slanting her a knowing look. "You were practically giddy when talking about him earlier."

*Yeah, wish the elevator would hurry up.* Buffy's foot tapping quickened.

"What's his name again?"

"William," she replied. The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Buffy rushed inside.

"No, the nickname you mentioned. The one he usually goes by."

"Oh. Spike."

Willow leaned forward to press the lobby button before realizing it already glowed. "How'd he get that name?" she asked.

*Torturing people.* Buffy would rather not say, and bit her lip, nerves dancing and eagerness pouring off her in waves. If Spike knew she had learned why his gory past birthed that moniker, he'd probably faint- If he could. "I haven't asked him," Buffy said.

"Hmm," Willow replied absently, following behind Buffy when the elevator came to an easy halt and the doors spread open. "It's kind of a weird name. Not that your boyfriend is weird or anything. It's j-just 'Spike' is a little unusual."

Buffy smiled when Willow's voice gentled into a near murmur. Her friend did that when her mouth opened before her brain could catch up, and worried what she said might have been taken the wrong way. "Yeah, it kind of is." Buffy shrugged. "I'll have to ask him where he got it, then get back to you." Maybe she could tease him into a panic with the right question phrasing.

"Sounds good." Willow grinned in relief.

They stepped out of the building into sweet smelling California air, and when Buffy spotted her car, her feet were no longer her own.

She threw a "Bye Wills!" over her shoulder without waiting for a response, and hopped into the front seat of her vehicle. She pulled out of the parking lot before reaching into her purse and grabbing her cell phone.

Scratching at her shirt collar again, Buffy was about to call the house with her multitasking skills as she drove with her knees, when the device began ringing in her hand. "Hello?"

"Tell me you're on your way."

Spike's voice was like a heady welcome home, and she wasn't even there yet. "Driving in the car right now," she said.

"Don't run any red lights."

Buffy snorted. "You're such a law abiding citizen, Spike."

"Just because you say it doesn't make it true, baby."

"Afraid I'll crash?" she asked.

"Afraid you'll get pulled over," he said with a glower in his voice. "Don't fancy extending this separation any longer."

"Me neither." Buffy looked up in time to slam on the breaks as a guy in a Toyota cut her off. She gasped reflexively and slammed cruelly on the car horn. "Asshole," she muttered.

Spike's worry sounded in her ear. "Buffy, what happened?!"

"I'm fine," she said, and continued driving. "Some jerk cut me off."

"Bloody hell, be careful!"

"He's the one that did the cutting off," she stressed, but smiled suddenly, all irritation miraculously evaporating when his concern registered. "You are worried about me getting into an accident."

"Of course I am! Could just eat a sodding cop," he muttered. "Now be quick about getting home, but watch the bleeding road."

"Well, since you said please," Buffy replied sweetly.

Spike let out a small growl that was both predatory and irritated. "When you get your ass back here..."

"Looking forward to it! Hanging up now."

Doing just that and tossing the cell phone back in her purse, Buffy giggled and imagined Spike's expression. She rushed home but was careful not to miss any stop signs, even if she did ignore the speed limit for the majority of the drive. Upon pulling up to the house, she noticed a telltale shift in the living room curtains.

She parked haphazardly in the driveway and practically flung herself out of her car. Or rather, her borrowed car. Buffy's was at the mechanic and she'd managed to rent a loner. It was small and simple and clean, and it ran, which was all she cared about. All Spike cared about was that its back wheels weren't going to fall off.

That had been yesterday; that, and then most of the night spent lying in Spike's arms. There had been no time this morning to lose themselves in each other like they so loved to do. Between such restraints, and her not-so-successful lunch break, the claim was in a tizzy.

Buffy bolted up her deck stairs and fumbled with her keys, dropping them on the mat and cursing. She'd just picked them up when the front door opened and she was hauled inside.

Her bags thrown against the wall to slide down and land in a pile, her keys tossed onto the table at her right, the door slamming, and Buffy sighed when Spike's lips immediately found hers.

Her arms came around him, and they worked their way upstairs in a flurry of legs and groping hands, until the vampire finally picked her up and ran the rest of the way. A door shut and bed springs squeaked, and Buffy and Spike paid little attention to the hours that wore on.

***

Something like ripples in a river, time spread out into nothingness, elapsing in shadow behind moans and sighs. It wasn't until Buffy eyed the clock that she noticed it was thirty minutes after seven.

Fortunately, not too late to call Dawn. Buffy wanted to talk with her today, as Spike and she had managed to dissect a variety of different ways to approach the waiting topics.

Spike was a massive support when she was wigging, and it was just another reason Buffy loved him. He was here, he gave her strength she wasn't aware she had, and just by kissing her forehead or holding her in silence when her mind tried to choke itself. He was the reason Buffy had decided not to put this off, and had the courage to pick up the phone and call her sister when she did.

"You want me to come over?" Dawn asked, with a little hesitancy in her voice derived from purely unexplainable and eerie intuition.

"Yes," Buffy said, "I have some stuff that... Well, there are some things I should tell you."

A beat, the kind that made your heart do double time in your chest. Then, "Is this about Spike?"

Buffy pressed her lips together before letting out a quiet, nervous breath. "Kind of." The silence on the other end of the line spoke a question. "Partly," Buffy amended.

"What, are you two moving in together or something?"

Her mouth opened and closed in a rather fish-like motion. "Actually," she laughed anxiously, "we sort of... already have."

"What?!"

A screeching macaw had nothing on Dawn sometimes. "We-"

"I thought the relationship, was like, new," she exclaimed. "How are you guys living together?!"

"One of the many things I'll explain once you get over here." Impatience probably wasn't her right, at the moment, but sometimes implications couldn't be helped.

"Don't get irritated with me, Buffy, you just dropped a bomb."

She sighed again. "I know, Dawn. And I'm sorry, but I really do need- need to explain everything. Can you come over? Please?"

"Of course," Dawn exclaimed. "I deserve a complete rundown, thank you very much."

"You'll have it. I promise."

"I'll be there in like, thirty minutes."

"Are you bringing Xander?" she had to ask. Buffy knew he'd learn of everything sooner or later, and that was preferred. She'd like him to know; she just felt Dawn should know first.

"He's busy, and you and I both want me to come over now, so no I'm not bringing him." A rushed, agitated sigh tickled Buffy's ear through the line. Dawn's voice split the moment wide open when she asked, "I don't know if I'm crazy here, but... Does anything you're going to tell me have to do with dad?"

A recognizable, crestfallen sensation filled up her chest. "How'd you guess?"

"I had a feeling," Dawn muttered.

Buffy swallowed. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

She set the phone down, and arms wrapped around Buffy's middle like a protective rain coat, guarding her from a downpour. She sank into Spike's hold, and pure respite kept her on her feet.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

She snuggled deeper into his embrace. "You're doing it."

Spike's grip tightened. She could share everything with him, the softer side of her fears, the vulnerability behind every need. Dread that typically came with loving someone, the kind that knotted in her stomach when she went to sleep at night because her lover might not be there when she woke, was nonexistent. There was none with him, and it had very little to do with the claim.

If she were honest, Buffy believed wholeheartedly Spike was the one person who would never leave, no matter what.

She trusted her vampire more than she'd ever trusted any man. Not only because of Spike's devotion, his refusal to let her go, but because he held onto her heart like a clutch. Love had almost nothing to do with trust; you could always have one without the other, though you shouldn't.

She was safe with him. She knew that like she knew the sun set in the west and rose in the east. It resonated throughout every nerve in her body as undoubted fact, and Buffy trusted him.

She trusted Spike simply because she did, not a single claim-y thing about it. Maybe she let him hold her because he never expected anything of her. She could be weak and he would keep her up when her knees gave out. He never wanted her to be anything but herself. He saw her strength, treasured it and fed it like a caretaker, but he never put her on a pedestal. He never expected Buffy to fight on her own because he would always be there to help, but similarly knew that she could.

Spike would never yank her back when she asked him to stand behind her as she moved into battle, no matter how figurative the war. She could always count on him, to be at her side, to support her silently from the shadows. He was always there. Always.

"I love you," she said. Buffy felt warmth spread through her chest and knew it belonged not just to herself.

"I love you, too." It flowed through each syllable, zealous honesty in his voice.

Spike didn't tell her everything would be all right with Dawn, even if perhaps he wanted to. Maybe if he knew her sister better, but he didn't, and that was okay. The words wouldn't make Buffy feel much more than uncertain and edgy.

Something told her Spike had figured that out.

***

It was too soon that the doorbell rang. Darla had gone into the living room to spend time looking through the newspaper at apartment listings, and likewise home-hunt on her laptop. She was the one who answered the door.

Darla knew what was coming, and so offered her support to Buffy without actually butting in. Her friend was going to have to speak to Dawn in private.

The woman murmured hello before promptly asking where her sister was. "She's probably in the kitchen," Darla said.

She threw a glance in that direction, but returned almost immediately with a wary expression in her big eyes. "Is Spike here?"

Darla nodded, trying not to convey any of the concern she felt. She smiled softly. "I think Buffy will ask him to give you two some privacy."

Dawn rose an eyebrow, her gaze turning sharp. "Why? I want to grill his ass, too."

Darla was seldom surprised, but all of a sudden, she found herself fighting back amusement. Laughter would be hardly appropriate at the moment. "I'm sure he'll let you," she said. The mental image of Spike getting questioned by Buffy's younger sister lightened the tense energy in the room significantly. At least, for her. Dawn still looked like a panther trapped in a cage. "Kitchen?"

The lady stared into Darla's encouraging eyes. "Don't you think it's strange? Them moving in together so quickly?"

Darla tilted her head. "I know I'm usually the first person to speak my mind, but in this case you might not like what you hear."

Dawn frowned. "You don't think it's strange."

Darla just shook her head.

A sigh, an eye roll, and Dawn finally managed to tiptoe into the dining room. Darla stayed behind when she entered the kitchen.

Instantly assaulted by the scents of coffee and strong herbal tea, Dawn stopped dead. Spike and Buffy were sitting at the island sharing a laugh as they drank from two novelty mugs.

Dawn observed their carefree conversation while standing unnoticed in the doorway. She watched pleasure so pure it quieted her hectic thoughts play out between them, a glow in Buffy's eyes that mirrored the one in Spike's. It looked like there had never been two people so caught up in one another.

All of a sudden, the spell was broken. The bleached man who'd so obviously stolen her sister's heart set down his mug and turned in Dawn's direction, his peaceful expression filling with sober acknowledgment. He cleared his throat and reached for Buffy's hand the same moment she turned, as well.

She stood up, abandoning her coffee cup on the island. Dawn noticed how Spike's fingers interlocked with hers and Buffy squeezed his hand. It was novel, witnessing the strongest and most loyal woman Dawn knew, draw strength from someone else. It was so unambiguous, and so natural, that she was once again hit with a feeling of realization.

She realized she was frowning, for one, but couldn't seem to stop. Weighty suspicion evaporated from her heart and shoulders, infinite clarity robbed her of breath, and it hit as shockingly as a bucket of water that Spike loved her sister. He loved Buffy in return.

A soft scowl remained frozen on Dawn's face. The room didn't move.

"Could you give us a minute, Spike?" Buffy said, breaking the silence.

Her brows went up; all right, she'd have to grill him later.

He looked between the two women. "You sure, love?"

"I'm sure." She smiled reassuringly, and Dawn was almost positive he was still reluctant to leave. Even as Spike nodded and walked around the island, worry lined his eyes. He passed Buffy on the way to press a tender yet passionate kiss against her cheek.

He stepped in front of Dawn before leaving and gave her a respectful smile, pausing as she moved aside so he could get by. "Good seeing you again, pet."

"Yeah. Same here," she barely managed to say, and Spike gave her a funny look, most likely due to her scratchy voice. But then he left, and it was just her and Buffy.

Dawn crossed her arms. It was easy to breathe now and the kitchen didn't feel so small, but something like an invisible rope wrapped itself around her sibling's shoulders and made Buffy look very much like she needed to get some fresh air before she passed out.

Instead, she just asked, "Want some tea?"

Dawn shook her head. She had been cutting back on caffeine because of the baby, but frankly, she always felt there were exceptions to rules. "Coffee; I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

***

It was strange how so much could be discussed within the confines of one room. The island looked like a dull white ocean beneath their elbows, and the floor seemed much too narrow to support the weight of secrets told.

Yet somehow, the walls didn't cave in and the room managed. Questions concerning Hank were asked first, but eventually, Buffy got Dawn to shy away from that subject for the time being. "We'll get back to him," she promised, "but I need to tell you about some Spike-stuff first."

Dawn folded her hands in her lap, displaying patient refusal to even think of leaving before she heard all there was to hear, and waited.

Buffy had already told a white lie some time ago portraying how Spike popped into her life. It would have been silly to assume, after such an impromptu meeting between them, that Dawn would never ask questions about him. The fact those questions never pried further than the length of a ruler was just luck.

Now was not only the time for an in-depth questionnaire, but for telling the whole story.

"You've known him how long?" Buffy cringed at the utter disbelief in Dawn's voice. Once upon a time, she'd been the one to use that tone of voice, not her little sister.

Dawn went seriously mother hen on her. Which confused Buffy immediately, of course; playing the adult was her job.

It took a while to calm Dawn's bemused mind. There were many reasons, after all, that Spike and Buffy's relationship progressed at the rate it had, and despite how speedy it looked, their decision to live together was nothing compared to everything else.

Yes, they talked about it. Yes, they were living in the house. No, he didn't have a lot of stuff to move in. No, he wasn't mooching off her. Yes, he was helping with the bills, and yes, ALL of them.

"He's a writer. Isn't that what you told me?" Dawn worried. "Does he make good money?"

Yes, he could afford it.

No, he wasn't actually a writer, but Buffy kept that to herself for now.

Spike told her about the poetry he used to compose, sometimes still found himself forced by unknown spirits inside him to get the "drivel" down on paper. A shy, downcast look accompanied a hand running through his hair as he explained: "Bloody inconvenient, it is. Not very good, either. Just something I find myself doing to pass the time every now and then." He didn't show her any of it, but Buffy knew, sooner or later, she would steal a peek.

So yes, her boyfriend was a writer, just not in the manner of which Dawn thought he was. And yes, the vampire had managed to put quite a bit of money away over the years.

Yet another thing Buffy would have to explain to her sister, but not today. That one could wait until after Dawn had wrapped her head around... everything else. The important parts.

So much for the whole story plan.

Now, Spike was working on a very fictional poetic novel, and bartending. The last, Buffy threw in off the top of her head. He'd mentioned that sometimes he filled in for a friend at some dive place called "Willy's" but that was a far as Spike's barkeep skills went in reality.

Once it was finally established that Buffy and her boyfriend knew what they were doing with this whole living together business, Dawn heaved a great sigh and rubbed her still flat abdomen. It was hard to imagine there was so much changing and going on at once. A baby on the way, her older sister seemingly settling down for once with a guy, a new guy whom Dawn didn't know much about, and all the recent drama with their father; it was enough to scare anybody.

The brunette took a sip of her coffee, and squared her shoulders. If there was one thing Buffy admired about Dawn, it was that bottomless well of strength she retained inside. Dawn had once said that she "took after her older sister." Buffy was unsure whether it would ever be possible to look upon herself with such admiration.

As a matter of fact, she had to bow her head every time she thought about their dad. The sooner she explained things on that front, the better.

Before Buffy knew it, all mundane questions regarding her love life had been answered, with resulting proof of Dawn's loyalty, and it was time to talk about vampires.

"Spike's a what?"

Buffy looked into a face stilled by unruffled boredom. She took a shaky breath, and repeated herself. "A vampire."

Dawn snorted. "What, you mean like the terrorizing small towns, living in coffins, turning into bats thing?"

The claim must really have taken root, because Buffy actually felt borrowed annoyance at Dawn's tawdry description. *'Tawdry?' Jeez, someone's sensitive.*

Buffy ignored Spike's figurative huff and grumble in her head, nodding. Dawn rose her brows and smiled with amusement. "The drinking blood, afraid of crosses, can't walk around during the day, Dracula type creature-feature? The kind that-"

"Yes," Buffy cut her off. "That kind of thing. Spike is a vampire. An undead, can't walk in the sunlight, creature-feature who lives on blood."

Well then. Not so hard to explain when she rushed it all out like that.

Dawn started laughing.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't hard because she wasn't being taken seriously. "I'm not joking, Dawn."

"Sure!" Her giggling increased in volume, a joyous sound that was determined to blow the wind out of Buffy's sails.

"I'm not kidding."

"Buffy, c'mon!" she exclaimed. "I know Spike couldn't have convinced you he's really a vampire. Like some movie monster. They aren't real and I don't think you'll ever convince me that they are, so quit the joke."

Buffy let out a deep sigh that almost broke the noise of Dawn's dying snickers. "How long have we lived in Sunnydale, Dawn?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Long enough to know that there's something not normal about this place, right?"

Dawn's expression sobered little by little. "Well, yeah, but-"

"Didn't we agree not to go out alone after dark when we were younger? Didn't we convince mom not to do the same thing?" Buffy continued.

"Yeah," she admitted.

"We both know there's something weird about Sunnydale, Dawn. How many kids can you remember not graduating high school with us because they were killed?"

Frowning now, gazing with concern at her oh so serious sister, Dawn said, "That doesn't mean they were killed by vampires, Buffy."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "An awful lot of them were found with holes in their neck."

Dawn rose a mocking brow at the caustic tone of voice, crossing her arms. "So what are you telling me? That Sunnydale is the vampire capital of the world and your boyfriend's the mayor?"

"No." Buffy stood up from her chair and walked towards the dining room. "Just a vampire." She yanked Spike into the kitchen from where he stood right outside the door.

"Easy on the goods, Goldilocks," he said, but noted with satisfaction that Buffy was most definitely getting stronger. Her frustrated hold actually managed to cause a twinge of pain, though he knew she hadn't intended it.

"I need you to change for her," she demanded.

Spike eyed the dubious looking woman sitting by the island before glancing Buffy's way again. "You sure? She might scream-"

"Spike, just do it!"

He rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Upon shifting into demon visage, a predicted yelp came from the center of the kitchen right before Dawn fell off her chair.

There she was, on the floor in a heap of nervous energy and bent limbs. Buffy rushed forward and Dawn numbly allowed her to help her up, eyes still riveted on the monster in the doorway. "What- What is that?"

Buffy looked lost, suddenly unsure as she turned her panicky gaze towards him. Spike groaned and shook his fangs off, meeting Dawn's fearful expression. "Vampire, pet. We get two faces."

Those owl eyes had now doubled in size. Clutching Buffy's arm in a death grip, Dawn looked back and forth between the couple in shock. "That wasn't really- Buffy, Tell me what that was. How'd he do that?"

Spike could see she just barely managed to keep from rolling her pretty green eyes when his mate said, "He's not human, Dawn."

A scowl arose. "I want to see it again," she said.

Spike shifted before Dawn even glanced his way, but when she did, she gasped like her head had just risen above water after nearly drowning, and yelled, "That can't be real! How did you-"

"It's real," Buffy returned, her tone making the words sound like an admonishment. "He's not going to hurt you."

Dawn locked eyes with Buffy. "I doubt that you'd be holding me right now if he was." She looked once again at Spike, and when her breathing slowed down he took a hesitant step closer.

She didn't step away, but tension rolled off her in ripples. "You're a monster."

Buffy sighed again. "He's a monster, but he's... he's good."

"Don't know about that," Spike half muttered. He couldn't really gainsay her, though; after all, Buffy was his reason for playing the part of being a "good" soulless creature, even if he wasn't so by nature.

She threw him a withering glance, but still said, "Sort of good."

Dawn looked worried. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's means I'm no bleeding saint," Spike said, "but I don't hurt people anymore."

Her already cartoonish stare grew wider still. " 'Anymore?' "

"Right."

"That's reassuring."

"Okay," Buffy interrupted. "Dawn, look he isn't a threat. He's a vampire but, not typical."

"You can say that again, love."

Buffy pursed her lips in annoyance upon noticing his toothy smirk, but then Dawn spoke up again. "You're dating a- a vampire," she acknowledged. It sounded like she didn't believe her own words.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." The murmur cut through the tension in the room somehow, like a sprinkle of water to a fainted woman's face, clearing away alarm. Buffy felt Dawn relax in her embrace before deciding to sit down.

"Your face looks familiar," Dawn nearly whispered. The statement jerked on Spike's and Buffy's attentions like a leash.

"I what?" the vampire asked.

"It- The fangs, the ridges," she said pensively. "It all looks like I've seen it before-" A gasp cut her words off abruptly.

Buffy frowned. "What is it?"

Dawn turned to her with a deer caught in headlights expression, then back to Spike. A new interest and awareness had entered her eyes, rather like sunglow from behind a curtain. "The guy who attacked me. He had that face- Like your face."

Spike shifted uncomfortably and blinked his demon back behind a human countenance. He shrugged a shrug Buffy could only describe as cramped. "Prick was a vampire," he said.

Dawn's shoulders dropped and the silent breath that whooshed through her lips seemed to pull a large amount of starch with it, limping her spine to the point where the island helped keep her upright. "I thought it wasn't real- I thought my mind was just playing tricks on me... so I ignored it."

"You're not the first," Spike said.

Dawn looked down in self disappointment. "He wasn't trying to rob me." She met Spike's gaze again. "Was he?"

"Not likely, love, though he probably would've nicked your wallet after-"

"Spike!" Buffy interjected.

"It's okay, Buffy," Dawn promised. "I need to be more careful from now on- Now that I know..." She looked pointedly at the man in the room.

Buffy placed a supportive hand on her arm. There seemed to be a rift in the waves, a calming in the currents as Dawn finally took everything in. Absorbing the realities with their heavy fairytale qualities and dark shadows.

There was no easy way to segue to their father, but it felt like Buffy should try. Now, before more topics arose that might upset Dawn's open mind.

The woman suddenly opened her mouth to ask, rather loudly, "Does Darla know?"

Startled, Buffy went to call her friend in when footsteps came from the dining room. Darla slipped into the kitchen and walked straight up to Dawn, and when she was merely a foot away, she showed her fangs.

Dawn didn't scream this time, but she did jump about two feet in the air. "Oh my God!"

Darla was obviously fighting not to snicker, but Spike had no compunctions, and his amusement was a backdrop to the big reveal. "I know," the she-vamp said. "And now you know."

Buffy let out a loud sigh. "Before you ask, I promise I'm not a member of the undead fang-having population, okay?"

Dawn looked up at her and nodded. "Good to know," she squeaked. Turning back to Darla, she asked, "When did you-"

"Right before I moved away." She shrugged. "I'm moving back now, though. Something made me miss Sunnydale."

"That's great," Dawn replied stiffly.

Realizing they were all getting off topic, Buffy quickly latched onto unspoken facets of the things that were literally staring Dawn right in the face.

And her sister gave her the perfect opening. "Is there anyone else I know who's a vampire?"

Darla's face shifted and Spike's back stiffened.

He would stay if Buffy wanted him to, but that would just make things harder.

The silence was telling for a woman who had all senses worked up, so it took only seconds for Dawn to question the identity of the third hidden vampire.

It didn't take very long to answer her question, just long enough to hurt her.
_________________________________
Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave more reviews if you have a moment to! :) *hugs*

The weekend arrived before Buffy heard from her sister.

The news, the facts, the relay- Whatever you decided to call Hank Summers' death, Buffy called it Disappointment, and Dawn named it Tragedy. Absentee dad turned murderous vampire, staked in the heart by a newcomer in Dawn's life, was the sort of information that deafened ears and fogged up logic.

Dawn liked Spike, of course, and she didn't seem to resent him for killing Hank, but she hadn't seen it. She hadn't seen her father lusting after his own daughter's blood, or the way he'd gone after it like a hungry monster, and even if she had hated the man for leaving, Dawn had never wished him dead before. Never.

Now it was too late to wish for anything having to do with him.

Buffy stared at the telephone while she sat in the living room. She'd been doing this since Dawn stormed out days ago, and the walls seemed to vibrate in the following silence. Buffy went to work each day, came home, listened with a hawk's hearing for the phone to ring, all while Spike remained at her side.

Darla, who often suggested she go speak with Dawn, was a steadfast support, as well. Yet none of it fixed anything. If those two were to talk, Buffy was afraid her sister would resent it, then Darla might get all superior-minded, like she occasionally tended to do. Spike offered to try his best and smooth things over with Dawn, as well, but Buffy knew that would be the paramount of bad decisions.

As it appeared, Dawn didn't hate Spike for destroying what was left of her father. Something about having been attacked by a vampire once made her accepting of obvious but unspoken truths. She knew Hank had to have been dangerous, deadly, but that still didn't mean a visit from Spike to get the sisters talking again was anywhere near what Dawn needed.

Time was what she needed.

Buffy knew it; and with painful clarity, she accepted it.

And waited by the phone, enduring self implemented distraction at work when real life called her name. Willow was kind enough not to pry or ask too many questions concerning Buffy's absentmindedness, instead simply making it known that she was available to talk, as a friend and not an employer, should Buffy want.

All she wanted was for the freaking phone to ring, but that was out of her control. Calling Dawn and getting Xander every time did little more than wrangle with already dampened patience.

Buffy's brother-in-law was privy to all the information on vampires, apparently. He wasn't really buying it, though. Buffy could tell, and she didn't think he would until Darla scared him with a flash of fang; the lady was looking forward to that.

In the meantime, Xander played the role of mediator; trying to get Dawn to call Buffy back, or go and talk with her in person, but his wife wasn't having it.

Confusion over why Spike and Darla were special, when apparently most of the vampire population remained cruel and irredeemable- and Spike had partaken in his fair share of evil in the past -was a nice basis for Dawn's detachment. Explaining the variations between one vampire's kind-of-a-conscience and another's complete lack of one, when Buffy barely understood it all herself, was like trying to decipher some sort of hieroglyphic code; hard, frustrating, and faith was nearly as significant as the wording.

It wasn't a surprise that Dawn couldn't wrap her mind around it yet. She needed time to think, but Buffy had no idea whether Dawn was feeding her own ire or actually calming down in the solitude of thought. Either way, giving her space was all that could be done.

Which was not easy. Buffy called every day, but her sister wasn't talking. She hadn't seen Hank, the Killer perform, though Dawn trusted Buffy's word nevertheless; it was just all so sticky and messed up.

Buffy sighed. Time. Dawn would come around in time. She had to. It simply didn't help that their dad was gone, like a puff of smoke.

It didn't help that Dawn was lied to from nearly the beginning, either. If Buffy wasn't afraid of grasping false hope like a straw, she could almost believe part of Dawn's seclusion was because her pride had taken a hit. Protecting someone could often feel like you didn't respect them enough to tell them the truth, and only time and explanations could mend such doubts.

Still, patience wasn't Buffy's strong suit, and the more time went by that she didn't hear from her sister, the more convinced she was that she would have to storm through Dawn's front door and have it out.

Buffy pressed her face into a pillow. *God, melodrama much?* She needed to get a grip on herself. This was eating her alive and it was just because her inner beasts kept knocking down her pillars of hope.

Of course, everyone had doubts concerning the people they loved and the decisions they made, but Dawn had such qualities as devotion and mature perspective. Surely even the gravity of the circumstances wouldn't break those dependable traits. Dawn had always come around in the past, and Buffy trusted that she would again.

Hoped, at least.

Another groan, this one louder. "Damn it."

Her muffled curse preceded a trail of light footsteps. Spike padded into the room, his gaze fixed on her.

He hadn't been sleeping well. It was a fact displayed plainly in his bleary eyes, and it was because Buffy wasn't able to go to bed without rolling a divot into the mattress. Lately, she hadn't been herself, and it thoroughly unnerved him. Seeing his mate so... lost, was agonizing. It conjured a sort of helplessness he'd felt very few times in his unlife, and wished fervently to never feel again.

He held a grudge against Dawn now, despite how unfair the notion was. Spike liked the chit, but all he knew was that Buffy was tired and upset, always staring at the phone and constantly checking the answering machine. If Dawn would just talk to her sister, it would do a lot in settling things down.

Spike kept the house phone at his ear when she was working, just in case Dawn did decide to ring. He didn't sleep then like he used to, but it was more for worrying about Buffy than it was for worry he would miss a call.

Buffy needed to keep busy, but she was upset every time she left the house, and not being able to remain close until she returned was almost more than he could bear. Spike didn't complain only because Buffy truly enjoyed her job, and concern in the form of his bitching was hardly something she needed.

He hated when he wasn't able to hold her, or help her forget the world when she wanted to. It made him ache knowing the sun was all that kept him barred from her office, otherwise who knew how often he'd be there, at the back of the building, walking around the block just to entertain himself in between visiting, and making sure she wasn't wanting for anything. He'd probably embarrass himself.

Spike approached the couch, the demon cursing for not being able to take away the heavy concerns that strained her muscles. Those that tensed her neck, and crept up her legs until only her eyes and ears were sharp.

Buffy didn't move except to lift her head when he sat down. Spike brushed hair out of her eyes and tried to conceal his worry behind a heartfelt smile. Buffy felt the love there as if it were the warm glow of a lantern. "I'm okay," she said.

He was trying hard not to scowl. "You don't look it."

"Just too much thinking." Buffy squinted then glanced away. "I tend to do that, you know. Drive myself insane with over thinking."

He smirked softly. "A lot of us tend to."

"You don't." Something near wonder fell over her face when she looked at him again. "Never. You just-... You feel and you follow your gut. And if something you can't change is bothering you, you just fight it until it gets- well, changed."

"I think we have that last bit in common, pet," he said. Then humor flashed in his eyes. "Over thinking I've heard is a human affliction."

Buffy cracked a smile, and it managed to inspire his. "Why couldn't I have lost the ability along with the whole mortality thing?"

"You humans are too stubborn to let go of the habit."

"Like you're not stubborn," she scoffed, then spoke again before he could poorly try and defend himself. "I'm not exactly human anymore, though, right?"

A tiny line appeared between her brows. He pressed a finger to her chest, over her pleasant heartbeat. "Still got all the same inner workings," he said.

Buffy shifted closer and Spike wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She bent her knees so they were touching his thigh. "Dumb fine print," she muttered.

He smiled against her hair. Damn if she didn't always smell like heaven and chocolate. Levity faded quietly behind them. The curtains had already been pulled shut and Spike threw a question into the dimming light. "You going to tell Dawn about it once she comes to terms?"

Buffy took a breath that sounded as if it weighed a hundred pounds when it parted her lips. "Yeah, but not until I'm sure she won't freak."

"I think that's part of the problem now, love." He looked her in the eye, continuing softly. "You not telling her something because you think she won't be able to handle it."

Buffy scowled. "That's not what I did. Or- What I'm going to do."

"Sounds like."

Irritation flickered within hazel green, and Spike nearly groaned as a warning sensation ran down his back. "What would you do?" Buffy asked with frustration. "Just announce the fact I'm going to live forever and we're basically married the second she comes through the door?"

"After she comes around to the rest of it, yeah," he said, an eyebrow twitching. "Why not?"

Buffy scoffed again, this time louder. "You mean right after she gets over the whole our-dad-became-a-vampire-and-had-to-be-staked thing?"

"Well..." When her eyes flared and grew two sizes larger, Spike quickly said, "I just wouldn't hide it, that's all. Tell her when she's no longer pissed about the other."

"Spike, it isn't that simple-"

"I beg to differ, Goldilocks."

She sighed roughly. "You always do."

Spike added, "If it's any consolation, I think she'll take it a lot better than she did everything else-"

"He's probably right."

The quivery voice from the right had them whipping their heads around, and there, in the entryway, stood Dawn, her arms crossed and an expression on her face that would force a king to explain himself.

As it was, Buffy couldn't talk, and Spike's heartbeat would've been chaotic if he had one.

"'Married?'" the woman exclaimed.

Buffy and Spike looked at each other, and they shared one chief emotion: Panic.

***

Dawn's pacing resembled what one might think of when they imagined an irate ferret. Her feet skittered across the floor in a quick, repetitive pattern, her arms crossed, and her hands clenched into hard fists. "You got married?!" she shouted.

Buffy was frowning, and wondering if ushering her sister into the ever comforting scene of the kitchen for some tea had been a pointless attempt in trying to calm her down; chamomile was only so effective, after all.

"Married?" Dawn demanded again.

Buffy cringed. "Sort of."

"Basically," Spike muttered in turn. Buffy sent him a scorching look, but it hardly compared to Dawn's heedless fuming.

The woman was not simply mad; she was livid. Hurt, too, and actually, stunned might be a fitting word. The air was filled with unseen summer scents like mint and cut grass and lime, but it was clear that Buffy's sister paid no attention. Dawn's breathing was angry and automatic as she paced back and forth, back and forth, putting up good competition with all the times Spike had worn holes in floors as if it was his job.

She mumbled to herself and it was the only sound to fill the quiet. Her eyes landed again on Buffy, who was setting the filled teapot down to boil. "You don't even have a ring!" Dawn yelled.

A more bewildered expression you had never seen than when Buffy froze and said, "We never discussed a ring."

Her bemused gaze fell to Spike, and he was scratching the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact. When he looked up, it was to bravely face Dawn. "Didn't get it on her finger yet, but I have it," he said.

Buffy's cheeks warmed from a reaction that wasn't her own. Tea forgotten, she moved without thinking in his direction, face displaying the same shock quickening her heart. "You what?"

Dawn felt like banging her head against a wall. "You two are unbelievable!" she screeched. Spike threw her a startled look but she doggedly continued. "You're a vampire, you guys are 'sort of' married in some weird way that hasn't been explained to me yet. My sister is going to live forever- Do not even get me started!" she added with one raised pointer finger, "-and there's a ring she doesn't even know about! I can't-" She took a deep breath and made a stopping motion with her hand. "I can't deal with you guys."

Spike's teeth ground. Biting back an agitated growl, he said, "Well, you're going to have to bloody well find a way."

Buffy blew out an exhausted breath. Tension radiated off Dawn in waves but the blonde moved closer anyway, and let her voice quiet when she said, "He's right, Dawnie."

Silence and a sharpened glint in the blue depths of her eyes was all Buffy got in reply. "This is... It's weird. And I know it's crazy, too," she said. "I'm sorry... how overwhelming everything-... Believe me, I get it. More than know." An apparent bit of understanding cooled Dawn's eyes as Buffy took a strengthening breath. "I know it's hard," she said. "But you can trust me. A-And Spike." She took a hesitant step closer, and was relieved when Dawn didn't move away.

Buffy reached up, fondly tucking a strand of brown behind one ear. "I am so sorry about dad. If there had been another- another way... Anything I could have done I would-"

Both compassion and pain flashed across her sister's face, jarring Buffy nearly as sufficiently as when Dawn interjected to say, "No, I- I know that wasn't your fault, Buffy."

Her eyes filled abruptly with water, like a shallow bucket left out in a storm. "Y- You what?"

"I know." Dawn's unyielding expression softened then, into something accepting and full of loyal affection. "It just... took me a while to accept... to understand."

"To wrap your head around it?" she asked.

"Yes." Dawn sighed, nodding. "Buffy, I'm sorry for shutting you out, for- Well, acting like a brat."

With the window above the sink open and wind chimes pinging behind it, you would think it easy to breathe in the small kitchen. You would think that the weight of newfound secrets and past revelations might be light, if for no other reason than the wind helped in carrying them outside.

But they weren't. Not until Dawn made it clear, right then, that she had dropped her grudge and confusion like a heavy crate. Hank Summers may be gone for good, but his memory had left discontent in their mail slot, and Dawn had finally trashed it. Buffy couldn't stop from wrapping her in a clutching hug.

Gathering her sister close, Dawn rolled her eyes and said, "Forgive me, huh?"

"You weren't a brat."

Dawn laughed gently. "I was stupid. I didn't understand what you were saying. What you told me about him... I just- I mean, I'm still all with the questions, you know? But I think I kind of get it now. And I'm not angry anymore."

Buffy pulled away, taking in Dawn's sweet face like a blue sky to once blind eyes. "You know I love you, right?" she asked.

Dawn blinked in surprise, then smiled a mere moment later and nodded. "I love you, too." But her open expression changed suddenly, from kind and affectionate, to irritated-younger-sibling. "Now what the hell is up with all this marriage and immortality crap?"

From zero to sixty in less than a second. That was her sister. "Uh..." Buffy smiled uncertainly. "I suppose you don't know what a claim is, huh?"

***

Dawn finally understood.

Really understood; everything. From vampire lifelines, to Spike and Darla's individuality that was so very rare for their species. From claims and what they were, to how Buffy found out she was part of one. From Spike's timely appearance in her life, to their fighting and struggling to get where they were now.

From the beginning of the story, to the end.

Buffy was lying in bed now as she waited for Spike to come back from picking up blood at the hospital. He had left once Dawn was loaded down with information and her eyelids grew heavy. She only went home following the dissection of every single angle of every little detailed truth Buffy told, and now she was off to soak it all in, explain it to Xander, then try and convince him she wasn't losing her mind.

Buffy figured they would be paying a visit tomorrow.

It was midnight when she and Spike walked Dawn to her car. The hours had gone by very quickly, despite how tedious it was to reiterate things. Buffy was still shocked at how easily Dawn accepted every bewildering fact, now that she had come around. Now that the aftermath of the emotional mudslide referred to as Hanks Summers had been cleared away. Dawn made it thoroughly, repentantly clear that she realized he had once been Buffy's dad, too, and it wasn't fair of her to question whether Buffy held the blame for his death.

Dawn was also excited about Spike and Buffy's relationship, even if she was still floating somewhere within the realm of disbelief. She would, however, remain supportive as long as Spike made her sister happy.

It was all a load off. Buffy felt lighter, relieved, like she had suddenly stood up after a lengthy, cramped car ride. Free to breathe, and with an untraveled road ahead.

They still hadn't spoken about the ring.

What she wouldn't give to have an answer on how to approach that topic. Unfortunately, Darla was MIA for any girl talk, as she had gone out again to meet an antsy Faith at the Bronze. It was three in the morning now and the vampiress was sure to return soon, but not before Buffy either fell asleep or Spike got home.

Despite the butterflies dancing in her belly, fatigue kept her gladly motionless beneath cool blankets. The mattress might as well be a cushy pile of cotton as the images in her mind were quickly fading like water stains on sundrenched cement.

She'd been meaning to call Faith back and give her the lowdown on everything that happened- Well, just about everything. Spike's undead status would soon be explained, but not quite yet.

Faith deserved to know how her friend had fallen in love. She deserved to meet the guy, get to know him, and Buffy was afraid that if she didn't go out with Faith soon, the woman might arrive on her doorstep to drag her out by the ankles come next weekend.

Buffy turned on her side and made a mental note to call Faith as soon as she woke up- Well, maybe not the very second she woke up. Tomorrow was Saturday, after all, and that meant Faith wouldn't be getting out of bed until at least noon.

The distant sound of a door opening, and the rush of awareness that told her Spike was home, somehow jarred Buffy's understanding that midnight had come and gone, and therefore morning was already here. She wished the weekends could last.

Floating in half consciousness, she heard him move around in the kitchen for a short minute. Before long, Spike's footsteps whispered on the stairs, through the hall, all the way to the bedroom door. He pushed it wider.

He was staring at her. Buffy could feel it. She soon heard the door creak shut so softly that it resembled a mouse squeak.

His eyes must be riveted, she thought. Everywhere, little flares zinged back and forth across her spine, from the tips of her toes to her scalp. Alertness followed, until Buffy felt its tickling fingers grazing her lungs. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to look at the window as he stepped out of his shoes behind her, undressing in the dark before she felt him sit down.

Spike's naked body stretched around her, and every nerve vibrated underneath his skin in reaction to the pleasant humming of hers. Buffy heard him release a sigh that sounded like the waves of the ocean at night, and his fingers traced her arm like seawater traced a shore. Hair stood up on the back of her neck, before that on her calves and thighs. She pressed the latter together, turning so she could see his face.

"Hi," Buffy whispered.

"Hello, love." His eyes were aflame with want, and hesitancy she didn't understand. "Did I wake you?" he asked with a frown.

"No." Buffy reached for his hand, stealing it from her collarbone. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Yeah," he replied, and dipped to place a kiss on her lips. "Gave a nurse a bit of a scare."

"Really?"

"Bloke was picking up the delivery, I suppose." Spike brushed his mouth across one cheek next. "Had to flash a bit of fang to get him to leave."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "You didn't have to beat anyone up?" she asked dubiously.

"Always like to. But never do." His face shifted, eyes going from blue to amber yellow right before her own. "Manage to make them scatter just fine with other things."

The room was very still, warm even, with an open window fighting the efforts of air conditioning, but Spike still shivered when her fingertips danced over his ridged brow. Buffy tended to do this sometimes, and Spike was hard pressed not to start purring. "What ring were you talking about?"

Contentment froze.

It was rather comical, Buffy thought, watching his demon eyes go all big and anxious so quick. She didn't laugh, though. She waited patiently for Spike to gather his nerve together and answer her. "Got it... when-" He swallowed hard. "When I told you I was leaving for a few days, right before your little dinner party."

*Oh.* That. She remembered that, all right. She remembered how livid he had been when he thought Riley was a threat. How before Spike showed up, Buffy was plagued by thoughts of the vampire who'd entered her life without any invitation, every other minute.

She had questioned where he went, why he wasn't driving her crazy from her backyard and instead letting his absence do the work. Now, it seemed, she had the answer. "You left to go pick out a ring?" she asked, trying to hide her disbelief.

"Partly," he hedged.

Buffy frowned. "And that took longer than a day?"

Spike changed back to his human face, rolling his blue eyes up at the headboard. "Wasn't just picking out the ring. Was giving you some space. Some... time." Shyness became him, Buffy decided, as Spike glanced away before looking her way again; his voice lowered to something gentle and timid. "Ring was just a matter of choosing the right one."

Buffy ran her fingers through soft, messy bleached curls. "How long did you look for it?"

He glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. "What's it matter?"

"Just curious."

He sighed, a very put upon and impatient sound. "Four days."

"Days?"

"Don't look so bleeding stunned!" His voice got higher. "It's not like I wanted to be going back and forth to trinket shops. Bad for my image. Looked like a right git, you know. Couldn't make up my sodding mind because I didn't know what you would like!" He pointed at her for emphasis, and Buffy's face lit up with a smile, causing him to frown even harder. "What is it?"

"You went jewelry shopping for me," she said, clearly delighted.

He made a disgusted sound, which Buffy ignored as she wrapped her arms around him and tugged. His naked body fell upon her intimately, lopsided barriers of sheets and satin the only thing in between. Her heart skipped a beat and her nerves tingled with pleasure, but she didn't allow anything to distract from the moment.

Spike's arms quickly curved around her shoulders and Buffy said, "You're so cute." He stiffened, and she sensed the forthcoming protest. "I love you," she added.

His eyes warmed. Spike shifted so he could sit up but still have her touching his chest. "Love you, Buffy," he murmured ardently, and left a kiss on her forehead.

"Now, can I have it?" she asked.

"What?" He looked down and blinked. "The ring?"

"Duh." Buffy grinned.

Spike sighed and moved reluctantly off the bed. "You women are all the same," he said. "Tell a bloke you love him, expect jewels and frills in return."

"Hey." The sheet fell, exposing her pink nightie when Buffy sat up to watch hungrily as Spike strut across the room, naked and unconcerned. But then he slipped into his jeans and made her pout.

He looked Buffy's way again when the zipper was closed. "I don't need jewelry," she said. "I just want to see what you got me." She glanced surreptitiously at her left hand. "I find I'm curious."

His eyes had suddenly darkened, and that conjured a frown. "What?"

"Nice nightgown, love," he commented, nodding at her chest. Soft, stocking thin satin suspended from the shoulders and hugged her waist until disappearing beneath the covers, eyelet lace trimming the low neckline. Rose color matching the negligee spread across her cheeks like a sunset, and Buffy shifted her legs in bed, smiling under Spike's avid attention. "I thought you might like it."

"Never one to be wrong, are you."

"Not usually."

Spike nodded stiffly, taking in her delectable form with one last greedy glance before ducking out of the room. He returned in moments, after retrieving the tiny ring box from its hiding place in a small chest he'd stashed beneath the cot down the hall. "Surprised you never found it, snoop."

Spike knelt on the bed and handed it to her, delicately, like he was afraid she might swat it away. Anxiously waiting, Buffy crossed her legs Indian style. "It was my house first. You moved in. I was allowed snooping privileges," she said. "How did you know, anyway?" She frowned suspiciously.

"Vampire, pet." Spike rose one caustic brow. "Can't hide anything."

Buffy rolled her eyes and then looked at the small ring box in her hands. "Apparently not." She quickly lifted the lid on her gift, and inside, there lay a shiny vintage ring with a rose gold mount. A round diamond glittered and winked from its inlay, surrounded by scalloped edges and ornate little floral designs embedded in the band.

About as clearly as the ring twinkled, Spike saw Buffy shudder.

Her throat tightened on a high whisper that sounded like his name.

He immediately began to feel alarmed. She lifted her head, all teary eyed, and nerves jumped beneath his skin. *God, tell me this means she likes it.*

His fears were quelled when Buffy said, "It's beautiful." She looked down again and gently examined the ring with the tips of her fingers, like it was the fragile wing of a bird. She picked it from its crevice in the velvet.

The utter look of awe on her face lent Spike some bemusement. "You- You like it?" he voiced the concern.

She glanced up again. "Of course I like it. It's- I-" Buffy shook her head. "I've never been given anything like this before. It's just-" A hard swallow went down her throat before she turned her attention back on the ring. "It's extraordinary."

Her cheeks warmed with happy color when Spike smiled, and a bit loony at that. He took her left hand then, and asked to put it on.

Slowly, gently like he was touching a porcelain doll, Buffy felt the cool metal slide over her knuckle, quickly warming from the heat of her skin. She lifted her hand up just a bit to look at it when Spike let go, but he kept a tender hold on her wrist.

"You were never given jewelry before?" he asked softly, wondering what on earth any man she'd dated in the past could have been thinking. Buffy wasn't exactly materialistic, but women loved jewelry. Even he knew that.

Buffy shook her head. "No. No one I- It never really got that serious, and I don't think any were comfortable doing..." Her voice trailed off and she lost track of what she was saying, thoughts dropping away like icicles in the spring. She stared mesmerized at the diamond on her hand.

The claim mark tingled, happiness rising inside her like the moon; now she had a ring, too! "Where'd you get it?" she asked.

Spike's voice lowered as he shrugged and said, "Guy I know."

Her brows rose and she tried to meet his eyes. "A 'guy you know?'"

"The rock's real, love, no need to worry about that," he promised. "I had a jeweler check it out."

"Spike, I didn't-" she sighed. "I just never thought you could get something like this from... someone I'm now imagining with horns on his head."

Spike rolled his eyes. "No horns. The bloke's a little... more than human, yeah, but he's not a bad guy."

"Did I say he was a bad guy?"

He blinked. "Well, no, but-"

"What does he have?" she asked curiously, interrupting.

A smirk sprang across his lips. "Skin you'd never see in a cosmetics commercial, let's leave it at that."

Buffy laughed quietly. "Will I ever get to meet this... whatever he may be? I'd like to thank him."

Spike smiled genially. "If you want."

"I want." She leaned up and hugged him. Fiercely, her arms wrapped the vampire in warmth he could never create on his own and would never tire of feeling. She bled into him, heating the coldness in his bones, and leaving him with the feeling of working lungs.

When she pulled away, still only mere inches from his face, she said, "Thank you," with her heart in her voice.

Spike brushed fingers down her arm, tickling awareness upon her skin like sprinkling water. "Deserve it, kitten."

"Don't you have one?" Buffy asked.

"One what?"

"A ring," she explained.

"I will," he said, looking abashed before his eyes dropped to her neckline. "Wanted to make sure you liked this one first, was all, before picking another for myself."

"I love this one. Don't want any other one. Ever. As a matter of fact, you can just right off any other jewelry presents in the future."

Spike smiled tenderly at that, head tilting. "I can, eh?"

Buffy scooted closer, jovial warmth in her eyes. "Nothing else will compare."

"Got it." He tugged her left hand out from behind him. "Friends are going to ask about this, you know." He tapped her newly adorned finger.

"Let them ask." Buffy smiled at him. "I'll tell them we eloped or something."

"Don't know how little sis will feel about that," he commented, but shook his head in wonder. "Bloody hell, feel like I'm drowning. Always do when I'm around you."

Her brow puckered. "I hope this is going to start sounding like a good thing very soon."

"Can't kill a dead man, love," he said with a shrug. "Wouldn't have it any other way. I love you. Don't care if that does manage to turn me into the tamest vamp in town, either. You're all I give a bloody damn about."

"Love you, too, cheese-ball," she murmured happily. "And you could never be tame." There was a familiar spark when she leaned in and brushed her lips against his mouth, the sort that could conjure fire from snow. "Kissage now, please."

He let out a laugh that she quickly silenced, and all hilarity melted away in the space of a second.

Spike pressed Buffy to the mattress, and there was magic. Like parallel chords on a guitar or violin making music from the way you touched them. Or the way soft lips compressed into a sensual smile out of a smirk. Indulgence was steeped in lust and heart, and they moved together like the partners they had always been.

They touched with greed, effortlessly falling into one another like the waves of the ocean. Spike tore off his jeans without leaving the bed and Buffy wrapped her legs around him, impatiently hiking her satin negligee up to her waist.

There was no foreplay, no urgent want for anything but meeting at the hips. Spike drove inside her welcoming body, and Buffy's sigh of completion was louder than her jackhammer heartbeat.

It was always like this. Always hot even when one of them was cold. Always uncontainable, wild. She stroked her fingers through his hair in gripping runs, tightening her legs around his body with every thrust. Gasping his name, Buffy scored her nails down his back.

Spike growled into her throat and grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the bed. His cock plunged deep and all she did was moan and chant his name in hot whispers. Buffy's hips lifted restlessly, striving to keep him filling her every time he left. Her throat rose on an arching moan, before he linked the fingers of their left hands together. The diamond ring heated between fevered and icy skin alike as their eyes met.

A flash of fangs made her tremble while ecstasy shot through her body. Sweat beaded across her breasts, and little needles of pleasure trickled down, under her skin to gather in the pit of her stomach. Buffy felt her nipples rub against satin as Spike thrust deeper, his chest flattened to hers. Whimpers and sighs came faster, ripping through the still air as she felt Spike's lust and hunger wrack him from the inside out.

The demon growled lowly when she cried his name again. "That's my girl... C'mon now, let me feel you. Need you to- Christ!" Buffy squeezed his cock with those inner muscles no one talked about and grabbed his ass, keeping him tight up against her. His right hand let go of her wrist to wrap around the nape of her neck, and Spike twisted his hips, rolling them with the next plunge of his cock.

"Oh, God!" Buffy called out, writhing beneath him. She felt fangs in her throat and all was lost. Her climax caused her to break out in violent shudders. Spike's followed quickly behind, a loud snarl echoing into her skin as he drank with fervor the blood from her veins. He yanked himself back when the aftershocks filled his body with unnatural warmth. Desperate thrusts turned into gentle rocking motions and Buffy finally fell calm beneath him, except for the deep breaths that shook her ribs.

"Bloody hell," he swore, lapping worshipfully at the holes in her neck and gasping his words. "What else do you like besides jewelry?"

Buffy smiled against his skin, laughing when he shuddered above her. "I like you," she replied.

_______________________
END NOTES: Final chapter will be up SUPER soon! (Like seriously, look for it tomorrow, probably.)
Again, big thanks to everyone for reading and for the great reviews! I have loved every minute of this story, and I hope you all have, too! *huggles*

Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter with all its cheesiness, Demanding Dawn, ending smut, and diamond rings (was that too cliche? I shouldn't have been surprised at myself when I thought of it. I've written it once before, after all. Must be my Something Blue feels rising up). And was the chapter title to ridiculous? I thought of it at like 3am, so tell me how awful it was because I might not realize it myself for like a year. It's kind of too late though, isn't it? Oh well. Anyway, let me know what you thought! ;)

ATTENTION BEFORE YOU READ: I updated TWICE within the last 48 hours so please please make sure you read chapter 22 (Not Cubic Zirconia) BEFORE you read this one. Thank you! :)

And yes, this is the final chapter of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it!
____________________


One Month Later

Buffy heaved a few deep breaths and stared at the pile of dust near her feet.

She staked a vampire. A real vampire.

Looking up when the sound of rhythmic clapping pierced her daze, she found Spike smiling proudly at her. "Nice work, love."

They had been sparring together for weeks now, and Buffy learned that being mated to a vampire really did provide some extra perks.

Not only could Buffy run faster now, and heal quicker and see better at night, but she was stronger. She could lift things it would take two burly men to carry. She could kick a punching bag off its chain and into a wall. She could also kick her boyfriend's ass, on occasion.

That was probably her favorite part. Buffy loved trading blows, throwing all her energy into a tussle, and hitting Spike in the nose. Fighting got her blood up, drove the two of them crazy with lust, and also served as a good method for releasing tension.

Buffy tucked her stake into the waistband of her jeans and walked to his side. When first Spike said he believed she was ready to come out- to hunt with him, to stake some nasties and tour the cemeteries -Buffy's prime emotion was nervousness.

She got over it, though. After all, she was the one who brought up the idea, two weeks into training. Spike enjoyed killing, unashamedly, even other vampires and demons; he said he liked the violence, and given that she herself liked sparring with him so much, making use of the extra strength supplied to her by the claim seemed both beneficial and exciting.

It turned out Sunnydale was filled with critters, and Buffy figured Spike and she could help with the cleanup. He explained which demons were harmless, no more guilty of bad deeds than most humans, and she was happy to lay off their backs. There were certainly enough vampires in town to keep busy.

Strange, this urge to hunt of hers, but Buffy accepted it as both natural and practical. It was a rush, satisfied the needs of Spike's demon and her connection to it.

It had taken some convincing, at first, to bring him into her way of thinking. Spike was reluctant to let her fight anyone but him, as he didn't actually want to eat her.

Or not in the nutritional sense, anyway.

Buffy latched onto his own reasoning that she needed to learn how to protect herself, especially in Sunnydale. Finally, Spike caved, but made Buffy promise she would never go out alone, looking for a fight.

Now they stood in a warm, quiet cemetery, with green grass, headstones, and vampire remains around their feet. She'd dusted what Spike called a "fledgling," and apparently their supposed inexperience didn't stop them from leaving behind a big mess.

Spike opened his arms and tugged Buffy in close. She looked up at his shining blue eyes with a smile. "I did good, didn't I?" she said.

"Amazing, sweetheart." He wasn't fibbing. Seeing her twirl kicks and land punches was like poetry. Even the things that could be perfected were maneuvered with brutal talent that no one could fake. She was a natural fighter, even without the extra strength lent from the claim.

"Thanks," she replied, grinning proudly. "You know I could feel you the entire time."

Spike arched a brow. "That's suddenly odd?"

"I could feel your anxiety," she clarified. Along with something else much more vibrant and heated, but she wouldn't mention that right now.

"Oh." He frowned. "I'm sorry, love. Shouldn't be distracting you when you're fighting. I'll try and hold back next-"

"Spike, you didn't distract me at all," she interrupted, then, Buffy shrugged. "It was sweet. I just- I don't want to scare you every time... I wasn't distracted, but I don't want you to be worried all the time, either."

Spike tugged her yet closer and brushed a hand over her hair. "I'll always worry, kitten. That's why I'm here. 'Cause if something ever..." His lips firmed and a pang of distress shot through their connection, stemming from his side. "I don't want you going out alone."

"I won't," she promised, not for the first time and she was sure not for the last. Buffy took his left hand, twisting the simple band on his ring finger around with her thumb. She still found it amusing- after thinking on it she realized this -just how sure Spike had been that he would win her over. That he would get a diamond on her hand. He'd bought the ring long before Buffy admitted aloud that she liked him, let alone declared herself his wife in society's eyes. "I'm not... I won't do that," she said again. "Not if it scares you."

"Good." Spike's touch waved down her throat and grazed the claim mark there, making Buffy shiver. Moving down her waist, until finally settling his hand on her hip, Spike leaned closer and she noticed his pupils expand. "It's not the only thing watching you does to..." His murmur became a ghost.

All distress fell from her face and she laughed, trying not to succumb to the heat rising in her blood just yet. "Spikey," she chimed innocently, "does watching me fight another vampire get you hot?"

He growled roughly at the way she'd said it, all wide open lips and teasing eyes. He snaked a hand down her jeans, reveling in the answering moan he received. Her expression of mock innocence slipped away as he grazed her clit. "Watching you do anything gets me hot."

Buffy whimpered as his fingers played inside her jeans, then pushed him away and took a few stumbling steps backward. Hands outstretched in a halting gesture, Buffy panted while she stared at the predatory look on Spike's face. "Naughty vamp," she breathed. "We can't do anything here."

"Who says?"

"Me. We're in public, and potentially... deadly surroundings."

"Bad pun, love." He could gladly show her the benefits to breaking public indecency laws, but she was right on that other point. And the last thing he wanted was someone else getting a peek at what belonged to him, even if it was just a vampire they could vacuum up later.

His tongue poked out from behind white teeth as he thought quickly. "Feel like christening the guest room?"

"Again?" she asked with a brow flick that reminisced of Spike's old habit. Now that Darla was moved into her own place, Spike and Buffy had "christened" just about every room in the house; in a myriad of ways.

The one he spoke of now was where he'd once slept on a cot. They were almost finished turning it into a real guest room, filled with a brand new bed, wardrobe, and Dawn's choice of new paint.

Spike shrugged, head tilted endearingly. "Haven't exactly broken in the mattress yet."

"There's a good reason for that," she said, taking another step back as he came closer. "It's for guests."

He rolled his eyes. "We'll change the sheets."

Buffy bit her lip, sorely tempted to listen to him and run back home. A fire was already stoked high and hot from the fight, from his nearness, from Spike's fingers down her pants a few moments before. But they had a date to make. "We have to meet Faith, Darla, and Xander and Dawn at the Bronze, remember?"

Spike groaned as he studied Buffy's body. She was dressed in low rise, tight denim jeans and a slinky black halter that made his mouth water. She was all dressed up for their little get together with the others, and he had practically forgotten all about it while watching her. Watching her fight, walk, breathe. The woman could be putting on socks and he would be two seconds away from losing it and throwing her ankles over his shoulders. He always wanted her.

Indeed, she was poetry. In every which way. Enough so to make him forget his head if it wasn't screwed on when she walked away.

Spike sighed, resisting the urge to tackle her as he followed.

Buffy leaned into his body as he threw an arm around her waist, hooking a thumb into one of the empty belt loops on her jeans. "If they're out of the wings again, I'm going to-"

"What, eat the bartender?"

He snarled playfully and nipped at her earlobe. Maybe they could get away with a bit of groping on the dance floor. "Might eat you, right in front of your mates."

"Is that a challenge?" she demanded.

Quickly hiding his excitement even after it shone through the widening of his eyes, Spike smirked. "Oh baby, you have no idea what you just signed on for."

Buffy furtively snuck her hand under his duster to squeeze one firm butt cheek. When he stumbled she held in a giggle. "I knew what I was dealing with the minute I met you." She sent him a brilliant smile. "I love a challenge."

Another nip to her earlobe. Buffy bit her tongue to keep quiet. It was gruelingly difficult, though, when he trailed delicate kisses along her neck. "You're not going to win this one, kitten," he whispered.

Buffy shoved him when he tried to suck on the claim mark. "I'm going to have you begging before drinks are served," Spike murmured. His cocky chuckle made her spine go rigid with determination, and she ignored the pudding-like feeling in her legs as she said, "You're the one who's going to be getting served."

"Terrible comeback, love, but nice try."

She resisted the urge to kick him. "You're already losing."

"Pissing you off is part of the fun."

"And you do it so well," she remarked sweetly.

Spike smirked again. "It's one of my top priorities," he said with mock sincerity. "That, and shagging you silly."

"You are so bad at this." Buffy sidestepped when Spike tugged her out of the way of a headstone.

"I think I'm rather good at both," he said.

"Whatever, buddy." She moved her hand to the front of his jeans and squeezed the telltale bulge there before he could notice where her fingers had gone.

Spike cursed and suddenly attacked her lips in a wet, consuming kiss. He was not the first to pull away. When she did, it was to take in desperate gasps of air Buffy truly wished she didn't need.

However, the intake of oxygen restored brain function and she quickly moved away a few inches so their bodies no longer touched. She fisted his T-shirt collar and stared into his deep, black eyes. "Like I said: Already losing, blood sucker."

Spike felt a growl well up in his throat at her triumphant giggle. He watched Buffy waltz away from him but only let her get so far before catching up. "Truce until we get to the sodding club," he muttered.

Buffy smirked a smirk to rival one of Spike's own. Tempted more than ever, fighting her own hunger and the desire stemming from the claim, she refused to say a word. Her pulse was pumping at a ridiculously fast beat and she knew he could hear it, but if it killed her, she was going to make him beg first tonight. He always got her pleading, every time. It was her turn to drive him to the brink of insanity, bring Spike so close to the edge of pleasure with loving torture that he fell to his knees for once. Darla and Faith would be so proud.

*One thing's for sure,* Buffy thought, *tonight is definitely going to be fun.* As would the rest of their eternity.

Smiling, both trying to resist from pushing the other against the nearest tree or parked car, Spike and Buffy walked blissfully- if a bit sexually frustrated -towards the Bronze. Their laughter wafted through the air, almost resembling the whisper of magnolia leaves in the wind, and definitely echoing a promise of happily forever after.

***

Meanwhile, at the Bronze...

Darla was leaning against the bar. Her view of the dance floor was just marvelous for watching the attractive patrons grinding like animals to an overplayed rock song. It was teasing her demon and agitating her inner beliefs in decorum all at once.

Darla was like anyone else in a club on a Saturday night; she liked to have fun. Which often included dancing, but many of these people did not know how to dance, and what she was privileged with viewing at the moment was equal parts frustrating and entertaining. Faith was honestly one of the only people out there who knew how to move.

Darla sipped her martini and turned away from the scene with a little sigh. Odd, how this place had gone from thrilling to dull in approximately four years to her younger self, and now, she appreciated it in a completely different way. Even with the never-getting-better "dancers" and tired looking couches and chairs, the Bronze had both changed and stayed the same. Time and God knows what other force of nature drew fresh crowds, visitors and new neighbors alike, to Sunnydale, and they all liked to party it up at the same place. The only place.

The men were attractive, some of them, anyhow. While neither Faith nor Darla ever seemed to be wanting for dance partners or drink buyers, flirting did not always hold a constant appeal.

Maybe it was Buffy and Spike, and how comfortable they seemed together, but lately Darla found herself in want of... Well, someone.

She shook her head at that. What on earth was she thinking? Men were immature, nonsensical, and often more pain than they were ever worth. She hadn't been in love before, and for good reason. No one captured her attention, or her heart, long enough for it to happen. She'd been a free bird all her life, even after death.

Funny, how Darla suddenly realized that she was settling down in one place for the very first time. The same town she had claimed too boring at the age of fourteen, and too small at seventeen, then horribly constricting after being turned into a vampire at an age where legally, she was an adult but underneath she was only halfway there.

She supposed there were firsts for everything. Look at Buffy and Spike; two mates finding each other in a tiny town in California, and one of them a human, at that. Talk about rare.

Darla gazed up at the balcony, decorated with tallboy tables and quiet conversationalists. She didn't expect love to come around for her, not anytime soon, at least. Life was tricky; unwritten, unpredictable. Especially eternal ones. It all had a habit of setting you on your feet only to push you off a ledge moments later. She was just glad she would have her best friend now to live it out with, and remember the ghosts of the past.

She set her empty glass down on the bar. Where was that friend of hers, anyway? Spike and her better not be late because they were busy acting on their baser instincts. Darla was losing patience with that excuse.

She looked around the crowded room. Dawn and her other half were on their way, she knew. She'd gotten a cell phone since moving into her own place, and Xander had called to let her know his wife was taking forever picking out an outfit that "wouldn't make her look fat." God only knew why that baby was growing so fast. Either way, the distraction did little t help Xander's nerves when he was around Spike and Darla.

She smiled to herself. You couldn't not love making Xander squeal like a monkey if you had the power.

Darla's expression froze in place when she caught glances with a man standing across the distance. He must have thought she was smiling purposefully at him, because now there he was, grinning a friendly welcome, his eyes focusing.

*Ooh, well aren't you something...* He was tall, brunette, and clearly human, but there was a glitter in his eye that she liked. Those broad shoulders hunched a little, but he was so tall it hardly mattered, and Darla had the rather abrupt idea that they might be curling beneath the weight of life's burdens. He had a dark exterior, strong build, and beautiful face. The face of an angel.

An angel, who was smiling avidly now, and slowly he slipped between the people in front of him to make his way through the crowd.

Her cold heart, the one that was supposed to be dead, felt like it might be echoing out into the void of her chest with a tap-tap beat. She took in big gasps, silent and unneeded, as he came closer.

*Oh, my God,* she thought. Angels could have eyes as dark as the devil's shadow, and all because those eyes had found her.

Suddenly, while the man moved ever nearer, it felt like she had fallen off a ledge, and something inside went click.

"Hi," he said, in a voice rich with hope she knew the reason for but he didn't. "I'm Angel."

And there it was. In his eyes. On his face. In both their chests.

For the first time, Darla was grateful that she had been made a vampire.

THE END

"Endurance, Eternity, and Long Life

Of the many interesting facts about the magnolia flower, the most striking one is that it is a very old flower. In fact, there are fossils dating back 20 million years that show that the flower has been gracing Earth since the very beginning of time, so to say. The magnolia is also a very tough, hard flower, unlike other delicate flowers. This is owing to the fact that it has had to adapt to changing climactic and geological conditions in order to survive, and it is precisely due to this feature that the flower represents endurance, eternity, and long life."

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And we have come to the end! HUGE thanks to everybody who read this story, who reviewed, who nominated/voted at the Sunny-D awards, and who paid it any kind of attention at all. I appreciate it so much. The reviews not only helped fuel this fic, but some gave me ideas for plot points in it, and it was a ton of fun to write. I hope you all like the ending, and the future Darla will undoubtedly have with her human mate. She and Spike were similar in their uniqueness as vampires, so I figured she must have a human mate out their somewhere, too. And really, who better than Mr. Angel? (I always liked them together.)

Please let me know what you thought of this closing chapter, and the story as a whole! I love getting reviews no matter how short or how long after a story has been finished. And again, thank you everyone who read A Stranger in the Garden! I really couldn't have written it without your help, support and attention. *hugs!*

P.S. Magnolia references! Yay! Found that quote/info at buzzle (.com) It's fitting, don't you think?

P.P.S. If anyone's interested, I have two new spuffy fics currently in the works that I hope to post soon (at least one of them)! One is going to be fairly short (I think...) and the other I'm unsure about, but I just wanted to get it out there. I can't wait to share them!

All right I'm done blabbering now. Until next time, dears! :) *blows kisses*