Chapter 1





Never Love Anything More than It Loves You








She is slowly tracing the column of his neck with her index finger. Light kisses along his collar bone make him anticipate her going lower and she does. Spike starts fondling her right buttock and explores further. Her skin is silky and warm; it almost makes him forget. Almost.





“Yeah, Slayer, mm... just like that, pet. You're so good... Oi, it tickles!”





He laughs. After some time of gentle teasing she finally reaches the area he hoped she would, and a low appreciative noise rumbles through his chest.





After they both have reached their peaks and come down again, Spike says, “Love, you’re awfully good at distracting me, but really. You know we need to talk about it.”





“Hush, Spike, I want your attention down here.”





She tries to push him down between her legs, but he doesn’t let her. Instead, he grabs her by the upper arms and kisses her hard on the mouth. Her dismissive tone irritates the hell out of him but very soon it doesn’t matter any more as he gives himself over to the pleasure.





* * *





Nothing more. There, he'd said it. (At least in his head.) It really was nothing more than what it seemed to be.





Buffy had welcomed him into his bed three weeks ago, but that was all he had gained. It didn’t matter that the Scoobies were perfectly aware of the relationship (if it could be called even that), they all still treated him just as before. He was just a demon to them; he couldn't feel. Buff never acknowledged that he could have any feelings towards her. He was still a vampire – a worthless creature except in a fight or in bed.





At first, he’d been fine with it; after all, it was a lot more than he’d hoped to get even a couple of months ago. And if he happened to dream about any kind of relationship with her, the farthest he had imagine was that they’d have a lot of mind-blowing sex. Only after she'd welcome him in her bed, had he started to dream of more. All the other stuff was supposed to follow soon, he'd thought.





It hadn’t.





He’d certainly never thought that Buffy Summers was the kind of girl to take herself a fuck buddy. Well, Spike had been wrong.





Ever since she’d told him that she’d been in heaven, their relationship had grown and developed. Or so he’d thought. Besides passion, there seemed to be friendship, understanding and acceptance. But all of it had evaporated as soon as the relationship turned physical. Now Spike had to face the truth.





The relationship was even less he had initially imagined.





* * *





‘Easy, Spike, easy’, he tells himself one more time.





“I just think you should try it before discarding the opportunity,” he says out loud.





“Jesus, Spike, will you stop bugging me? What's wrong with you, people?”





He smirks. “Willow said as much, didn't she?”





Her eyes aims daggers at him. “I'm not talking about it!”





Translation: 'I'm not talking about it with you.’





* * *





It was just like marriage, but without feelings. A formal relationship. Only with Buffy he didn't even get the polite consideration. What was really the difference between, 'Captain Westwood and his sister invited us to a luncheon tomorrow and I said we will be there.' and 'Spike! Patrol.'?





It seemed that nowadays he didn’t even get the courtesy of pretence. Instead of 'Would you like one more cup, dear?' he now got, 'So, what first, fight or fuck?' He didn't mind the straightforward approach, it wasn't that. It was a thought that counted, right? And with Buffy there was no thought, not really. It was her way or highway. Half the time, Spike was tempted. Except that he loved her. You didn't leave people you loved.





It would be wrong to say that Buffy and he never talked to each other outside of bed or that it happened only during slow patrol nights out of sheer boredom. They did talk. But it was never about anything really meaningful. The subject didn't even matter, it just never got personal.





Now it was still a few hours before sunset but Spike was already dying to see her. Pathetic. He just hoped that today wasn't the day they would have another fight. It had been over a week since the last one, so the next one was almost due. Spike sighed.





* * *





”Yeah, Slayer, please do that again, I'm not sure I remember what your arse looks like when you storm off!”





“Fuck you, vampire!”





* * *





He fished for a cigarette, threw the packet back onto the table and reached for his lighter. Two a.m. Too early for any self-respecting vamp to be up, but there it was; he was sleepless.





Suddenly Spike froze. Swiftly he made it to the door and listened. If his heart could beat it would work itself up into a hurried staccato right about now. After a moment, when the fleeting hope that it could be his girlfriend died, he calmly returned to the sofa. He didn't feel disappointed, just foolish. The smell was not even human; just a stray demon who had places to be. No more unusual than a lone human during the wee hours of the morning.





For about ten minutes he sat surfing the channels but there was nothing on TV, so he had to resort to a proved form of entertainment – a book.





* * *





Buffy was of half a mind of skipping the last class but overpowered her laziness and daydreamed through half of it. The other half she spent doodling and when she zoned out for too long Willow elbowed her into ribs. All in all, a wasted hour and a half.





When she got home, mum was still at work and Dawn was listening to that awful noise she called music. Personally, she blamed Spike. The guitar riffs, Buffy heard even downstairs, chilled her slayer bones. How could they even stand it?





As Buffy entered her room, a slight tremor ran down her spine. Her eyes darted around, but the room seemed to be empty. For a moment she thought of Spike, but he rarely turned up before nine and he certainly wouldn't have bothered to hide. Then the music from behind the wall ceased and there was silence. The blood in Buffy's veins ran cold.





“Dawn!”





She ran to the next door and wrenched it open.





“Hey! Don't I get any privacy around here?” Dawn was sprawled on her bed with her school things scattered around her.





Buffy leaped to the closet and opened the doors, then jumped down to see under the bed. Empty. Neither was there anyone outside the window as far as she could see.





“Stay here,” she ordered as she rushed back into the corridor.





For a moment Buffy stood frozen, all her Slayer senses extended. When she started moving towards her mom's bedroom she registered that Dawn had disobeyed her yet again by shadowing Buffy as quietly as she could. Which was not very, but it was just as well; this way Buffy knew where the girl was.





Carefully they checked the whole house, but they were alone and there was no sign of intrusion. Buffy exhaled noisily and threw herself into the living room armchair.





“What was that all about?” Dawn asked.





Buffy shook her head. “I thought I felt someone. I don't know.”





It was highly unnerving. Had she imagined it?





* * *





Her Mistress was sitting at the vanity and Heather was combing her hair. The rich raven strands were framing her beautiful oval face and her dark brown eyes were sparkling. But it was not a happy twinkle that would light her delicate features. Instead, it was a cold gleam, not lifeless but not exactly alive either; it was calculating, dangerous and... mad.





“Did they bring me the camera I requested?” the Mistress asked.





Her voice was melodic and beautiful, Heather thought. Mesmerizing, deep and soulful. She'd give anything to have half the beauty her Mistress had, but if she could exchange all her looks for only her voice, she would be tempted. A woman could achieve anything with that voice.





“Not yet, Mistress, but Jo and Bruno are on it. I think they will be back in an hour or so.” She finished one braid, pinned it on top of the woman's head and started with the second.





Her Mistress was tapping on the vanity surface with her ring finger. “What about Marcel? Is he back?”





“Yes, mistress. Shall I summon him?”





“No, no need. I'll go down myself.”





Heather thought that as long as shed known her Mistress, the woman had never been especially happy, but lately she'd been exuding a special brand of anxiety that made her lash out. Cruelly. Painfully. However she wished. Heather found it unfortunate, because seemingly the regal woman had everything anyone could ever want, but she was still always unsatisfied with something. Frowns rarely marred her face; it was calm and almost pleasant, if you didn't know her better. Heather had learned to be apprehensive of her smiles and her amusement could mean death.





Being a witch apparently paid off, because even very powerful demons feared her. Heather felt really sorry for the poor sap that her Mistress had set her eyes on this time. What she wanted with him Heather didn't know, but considering all the preparations she didn't think he would like it. Heather pinned the last of the braids into the neat coiffure and stepped back.





The other woman stood and turned to her.





“So, how do I look?”





The Mistress smiled when she heard the compliment she'd expected to hear. This smile wasn't quite as bone-chilling as some, but Heather shivered.





“He will not stand a chance. I have already won,” Eleanor said quietly and when her lips stretched into a smile again, Heather felt the need to swallow.











To Be Continued

Chapter 2


Because I'm Broken



Spike halted abruptly to take in an unbelievable scene; his Little Princess was sweeping the porch.


“What?”


Her annoyed exclamation brought him to his senses and amused, he raised his left eyebrow.


Dawn huffed, straightened her posture and said defensively, “I was bored!”


Her chin rose and as an afterthought she crossed her arms on her chest. Spike felt his lips curve upwards.


“Right.”


He set his jaw to not laugh at her but the angry glint in Dawn's eyes was already being replaced by a spark of humour.


“Yeah,” she said.


They both smiled.


“Your sis upstairs?”


“You know she is.”


She turned back to her work as if it was the most natural thing in the world.



* * *



“I didn't know you played.”


The remark struck him as unexpected; the incident at the piano bar was almost two days ago, and he didn't think she would ask about it any more. He eased her back from his embrace a bit to look at her. They had been making out on her bed although they both knew that they would not do anything more with her younger sister downstairs. There was a moment of silence.


“There's a lot you don't know about me.”


“Why don't you tell me?”


Spike was at loss. His member was aching, the Bit was in the house, and the Slayer was getting intimate, and not in the physical sense. It was startling.


“You don't really want to know,” he said seriously.


She drew his face back to hers and started kissing along his jaw-line.


“Sure I do,” she said lightly and he smiled a bit sadly.


“Yeah, you do. You want to know everything, you curious creature,” he joked. It was not like she really cared anyway. He'd been though the same thing with Dru; he'd told her a bunch of things about himself but it had come back and bitten him in the arse not a lot later.


His hands resumed the exploration of her body. Spike kissed her collarbone and nibbled it up to her shoulder and back down again. Buffy encouraged him with small mewling noises.


“So, where... ah... did you learn?”


He heard a smile in her voice and glanced up at her.


“Used to play before.”


His hands were massaging her breasts and he wished they had some real privacy to remove her bra.


“Before what?” She moaned as one of his hands sneaked up her skirt and found a strip of lace of her underwear. Spike was pretty sure she didn’t remember what she had been asking about any more but Buffy surprised him with continuing, “Before like years ago, or before like when you were human?”


“Both.”


He groaned. She had grasped his shaft through his trousers and he was not sure he liked it; it was like doing the nasty while not sure if the children had already gone to bed. He pushed her hand away.


“Not now.”


But his own fingers were already in her knickers, bringing her off. He captured her mouth to swallow the noises she was making. Then he twisted the swollen nub and she came.


He was caressing her gently, wishing the moment would last. When her heartbeat slowed, she cupped his cheek.


“You should play for me sometimes.”


She kissed his lips playfully and then his nose. Spike felt his dead heart constrict.


“I should play you all the time; you make such wonderful noises.”


He deliberately chose to misunderstand her, and he knew that she knew. Therefore he was not surprised when her lips thinned and she pushed him away to get up.



* * *



They started with the farthest cemetery this time, but planned to hit the bars soon. Spike had once asked Buffy why she didn't hunt... ahem! patrol in the bars where vamps would be more likely to pick up their prey, and soon Giles had included certain entertainment areas into the grid. A quick sweep of the cemeteries showed no new vamp risings and then the real fun started.


Spike loved human hangouts as much as demon ones. The first gave him food and the other entertainment, and now that he didn't hunt any more, he indulged himself drinking in both.


“I had a strange feeling today when I came home,” Buffy suddenly said.


They were sitting in their second bar of the night, waiting for a female vampire to make her move, and it was getting boring. The chit was picky.


“It was so weird...” She continued when he looked at her, “As if somebody had been there, but not exactly.”


“In the house?” He extinguished his cigarette butt in the ashtray.


She nodded. “At first I was sure that the intruder was still inside, but when I searched the house, there was nothing.”


Spike saw that it was bugging her, although she was trying to play it down.


“Was anything missing, or out of place?”


She shook her head. “No, I was probably just imagining it.”


Suddenly Spike straightened.


“Was Nibblet there?”


Buffy nodded, “Yes, but she wouldn't have heard anything even if a robber took the whole closet of her precious clothes; she was blasting one of your CDs.”


“Yeah,” he smiled. “The Bit has a good taste.”


Buffy snorted but then froze.


“Another one,“ was all she said.


Spike scanned the room and noticed their subject conversing with a male of the same species. Spike grinned; they were going to have a bit fun today after all. He drowned his drink in anticipation.


* * *


Buffy allowed herself a smile. Spike was fidgeting like a little boy on Christmas morning. The idea of a fight had excited her too, but seeing Spike like that turned her on in a completely different way.


She leaned closer to him, seemingly to observe the vampires.


“So, what do you think about the possibility of someone snooping around my place?” Her foot brushed against his calf and Spike smirked not looking at her. “Am I just being paranoid?” she asked.


“It's bad in any case; either there was someone in the house, or you are imagining things that aren't there.”


She punched him playfully.


Scarcely ten minutes later the pair of vampires walked outside without a victim. It was unusual but worked to their advantage. Buffy stood and followed them out, Spike on her heels.


“Excuse me,” Buffy called out as soon as they were all a couple of metres down the street. “Do you happen to know where the nearest police station is? That man is bothering me!” She gestured towards Spike. Buffy knew that he was suppressing a snort.


The couple ahead of them turned. For a moment Buffy thought that the woman startled. If she had, she recovered so quickly Buffy was unsure of what she’d seen.


“Really? Is there anything I can do?” the man asked, stepping closer. He was taller than Spike but of even a slighter build. With vampires that never meant much though.


“Oh, yes, whelp, glad you asked,” Spike drawled. “You can come closer and get killed.” He had now embraced his dangerous stalker persona; not much acting was needed.


Buffy threw him a scared look and took a couple of steps nearer to the other woman. The dyed brunette put her arm around Buffy's waist and Spike's nostrils flared.


“Don't be afraid, we won't let him hurt you,” the woman said soothingly. To Buffy it would have sounded fake even if she hadn't known about the brunette being a vampire.


“Look here, dickhead,” the taller man grunted while stepping closer to Spike, “I don't think you understand the situation here...” Just as he reached Spike's personal space he faltered. “Hey Mab, he's one of ours,” he threw over his shoulder, his tone surprised.


Spike grinned, “Of course I am, you fucker.” He threw the first punch.


The other vampire staggered back but recovered quickly and charged. Spike jumped aside, kicked him in the lower back and leaped to rain a series of kicks and punches on the guy.


“How unbelievably stupid has a vampire got to be not to recognise a master vampire?” Spike taunted between punches.


Buffy on the other hand, had not yet got the fill of her fun. She was still clutching Mab and whimpering as if in fear, though it was just as genuine a performance as the vampiress faking sympathy earlier.


Finally it dawned on the female vamp that her partner wasn't going to beat his opponent and she tried to jump into the fray.


“And where do you think you're going?” Buffy dropped the pretence and grabbed the other woman's arm. The brunette tried to wrench herself free but Buffy held on. The vampire's eyes widened and Buffy grinned.


“Yep, Slayer here!” She threw the woman face first into the wall. “Oops!” she said. “Sorry about the make-up!”


Buffy drew the fight out a bit, but got bored quickly. The vampire was no challenge for her; she was probably only a couple of years old. When she dusted the creature, Spike had just pinned his victim to the wall. It seemed to be only slightly more of a real fight than the one Buffy herself had had, but Spike had always known how to make the most of a confrontation.


Suddenly she sensed a change in him. Spike turned the man around and looking him in the eye slowly shook his head. At that moment the younger vampire broke free. He took off towards the main street but Spike had stopped playing and leaped. He took hold of the vamp's head and twisted it violently. By the time Spike landed on his feet, there was a cloud of dust around him.


Buffy could only stare. She had seen Spike do that before, of course, but only in the heat of a battle against more numerous opponents where there had been a lot at stake, or when he was really angry.


When he turned around, he didn't look at her. He started to brush the dust off of him, but it was evident that his thoughts were far away.


“What is it, Spike?”


He shook his head. “Nothing.” She briefly caught his gaze; it was full of confusion and uncertainty. “Let's go,” was all he said.


He set off towards the next designated hangout, but she grabbed his arm.


“Tell me what it is.”


He stopped for a moment. “I didn't like his scent,” he grit vehemently.

“What?!”


Buffy was getting angry. Mostly because she had no idea if Spike was being evasive on purpose, or too confused to answer her. It was making her worry and she didn't like worrying. She hurried to catch up with him.


“Don't be ridiculous, Spike! Something's bothering you; I want to know what it is!”


His pace was fast and she had to step almost twice as fast to keep up.


“Spike, stop!”


For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. Buffy prepared to tackle and beat the truth out of him.


“Look,” he said then, slowing down. “I'm not stalling on purpose, I just don't know, all right?” He fished out a cigarette and lit up.


“What do you mean?” She eyed the cigarette packet. “Where did you get those?” she threw in accusingly.


He raised his brow.


Not that Buffy knew anything about cigarettes, but the last time she went to the Bronze, she had been forced to listen to an elaborate discussion about different brands some of Xander's friends from work had indulged in. Needless to say, even Xander had been bored, but on the plus side, Buffy knew now that this particular brand Spike held in his hands was very expensive.


“You stole them, didn't you!”


They stopped and Spike huffed.


“Make up your mind, woman! What are you brassed off about? Can't defend myself on all fronts at the same time.”


Buffy understood the sheer ridiculousness of her accusation and grit her teeth. He was a vampire; of course he had stolen them.


“Tell me about the vampire,” she finally said, sighing.


He pursed his lips and resumed walking.


“Honestly, I don't know what to tell you. His scent threw me.” He paused. “Or maybe it was not actually his scent; it might have been someone else's scent on him.”


“Did you recognise it?”


“No. But that's just it! For a moment there I had a feeling that I knew who it was. But at the same time it's a totally foreign scent. It's like a memory I've never had.” His brow furrowed.


“Who did you think it was?”


Suddenly Spike laughed, but broke it off abruptly.


“Don't really know, it's just a feeling I have.”


Buffy thought he was lying but didn't call him on it. Most likely it didn't matter. His demonic associates were not her concern. She cast Spike a glance and saw him reach into his breast pocket for his precious flask. He took a gulp. Yeah, no reason to worry.



* * *



Eleanor glided regally through the rooms. She didn't like what she saw; everything was in shambles, just as her meagre existence. But that would change soon.


She had ordered large mirrors in all the rooms, just to show them her superiority. She was always the only person in the room who had a reflection. Eleanor liked her posture, she was naturally beautiful, but the thing that made her truly irresistible was her conduct. Pity she had figured out how to manipulate men only after her husband had left. 'That bastard!'


“Heather!”


The girl appeared a moment later.


“They have not yet returned,” she said immediately.


Eleanor picked up a vase from the tray and hurled it into one of the wall-length mirrors next to the girl. The vase and the mirror broke. Eleanor smiled.


“How's our prisoner doing today?” she asked perfectly amiably.


“She's been quieter than usual, mistress.”


Eleanor gestured towards the mirror.


“Get this mess sorted out and go to sleep, Heather. I'll feed her myself.”


“Thank you, Mistress.”


She didn't wait to see the girl curtsy and turned towards the upper rooms. Eleanor unlocked the heavy oak doors and stepped in. The woman was huddled on the bed, clutching a pillow. She looked pathetic like that; weak and useless. Her long dark hair was in disarray and the long silky nightgown had ridden up almost to her waist. She had beautiful legs, Eleanor decided.


She sat on the bed and stroked the woman's hair. Despite Eleanor being younger, she felt strong and more powerful compared to the vulnerable creature on the bed. It really was a stroke of genius that Eleanor had snatched her, there was so much fun to be had now.


“Get up my sweet, it's time to sate our desires.”


When the other woman whimpered, Eleanor' lips stretched into a delighted smile.



* * *



Spike was watching her sleep. She was cradled in his arms, her face peaceful and young. Beautiful. He remembered watching other women sleeping in his arms like that; none of them had loved him.


He brushed her cheek gently and for a moment a tremor ran through him. The moon cast the most peculiar light on her; the blonde hair looked almost like auburn and his heart constricted the second time that night.


Unbidden his thoughts turned to the vampire he'd dusted earlier that evening. He could still conjure the smell that had shocked him so much. Spike had told Buffy the truth. The scent was unfamiliar to him. But then why had it made him think of his first love? Why had her pale face haunted him through the evening?


Spike loved hearing Buffy breathe, her heart pump the blood through her veins. Spike's arms tightened around her delicate body. He remembered cradling another body to him like that, but it had been cold, motionless and very, very pale. Even the lips, that had once been a darker shade of pink, had turned ashen. A lone trail of blood had been trickling form the corner of her kissable mouth and down the column of her delicate neck to meet two tiny puncture wounds.


He had broken then. It was then that he had died, not when Drusilla finally bit him.


He was still broken.



To Be Continued

Chapter 3


The Sire and a Childe



They were playing her favourite game tonight. She was kneeling in the middle of her the bedroom, her knees apart. Her hands were bound at the wrists and elbows behind her back. She was not gagged, but she was not allowed to speak. It was her turn to be a Childe.


There were clamps on her nipples and the lips of her labia. It was starting to get really painful but she did not mind; the vibrator in her pussy had been working on and off for the longest time. Its irregularity was driving her insane with lust.


It seemed like she had been bound for hours but it could not be more than two. Although the extra resilience of her abnormally strong body allowed her to be less affected than the average human would, her muscles had finally started to tire. The tremors of pleasure, when she thought she would come the next instant, were alternated by the waves of bitter disappointment when the vibrator shut off unexpectedly.


Oh, how she loved this game.


“Come here.”


Sighing in relief, the Childe started to stand.


“Did I tell you to stand?” The sharp voice rang through the room.


The Childe quickly dropped back on her knees and crawled towards the bed where her Sire sat. She desperately wanted to apologise, but she was not allowed to speak and she was too scared to disobey.


Next she was told to lie on her stomach on the bed, her knees still on the carpet. The fluids were dripping down her thighs and she fought off a moan as she anticipated the first blow.


However the first touch she felt was gentle. Her Sire was slowly stroking her buttock. Now the Childe did moan.


A sharp smack came down between her legs and she moaned from the intense sensation of pain and pleasure.


“I told you to stay quiet, did I not?” her Sire asked.


The Childe did not answer; she couldn't.


“I think you deserve a serious punishment now. What do you think?”


The vibrator was violently twisted inside of her and she had to bury her face in the sheets to prevent her groan from escaping.


“I see...”


The Childe trembled with fear and excitement. She had no idea what her Sire had 'seen'. It could be equally good as it could be bad and not knowing turned her on more than anything.


She heard her Sire rummaging in a chest of drawers and then come back to the bed.


“Raise your head and open up.”


A gag! The Child felt the urgent need to thank her Sire for helping her maintain the required silence.


When the gag was fastened behind her head, and the strap that ran under her chin to insure the minimum movement was secured, she was again pushed down on the bed. Then the loving fondling of her backside resumed.


The Childe closed her eyes in bliss only to open them as one sharp blow landed on the delicate skin between her thighs and rear end. She bit into the gag in preparation of the next blow, but it took her by surprise again, because it landed much lower. Then the vibrator sprung to life and the next blow came onto her open and vulnerable labia. She almost came.


“Liked that, did you Childe? Well, I need to do something about that then.”


The vibrator was removed and the spanking resumed. It was glorious, exhilarating and painful. It was amazing. When the Childe thought that she couldn’t possibly take any more, it stopped.


“Shh... It's okay, Childe. You did great. You may make a sound now, if you need to.”


She heard a smile in her Sire's voice and felt on top of the world. But then the clamps from her labia were removed and she wanted to cry. She did.


Her labia were pulsating pain and she felt some kind of ointment being applied and it felt really good. It was cool and soothing at first, then slightly warm, hot, and finally it started to burn.


A blinding pain shot through her as she felt something penetrate her from behind, but it was not where the delightful burn was; it was in her second entrance. Something cold and metallic was shoved inside her and it moved in and out in a rapid motion. Her Sire had started the ride.


The Childe cried and groaned. She blessed her Sire and cursed the pain, but soon it wasn’t important any more if the pleasure came with pain. She never wanted it to stop. The Childe knew she was probably bleeding but it still felt good. Besides, it meant that she would be fed with Sire's blood afterwards.


It felt amazing, so very amazing, but still not good enough. The Childe wanted to come; she needed to come. Finally the metal was removed. She was anxious to feel the dildo in her pussy, but instead, her Sire knelt down and a cool tongue started to lick away the blood that was mingled with her other fluids. The tongue lapped everything up. Meticulously it moved up and then down and up again; over the outer lips of her pussy and inside and outside of the smaller hole as the Childe gasped and whimpered. Soon, she was coming.


Afterwards, she was freed of her bonds and they both vamped. The Child drank from her Sire's wrist while her Sire bit into her jugular vein.


She loved her new mistress.



* * *



Buffy woke to an amazing sensation. She felt wonderful and it took her a moment to understand that Spike was buried inside her. His cool body was touching her back and Buffy mewled. It was still dark; they had time.


He moved languorously, tortuously slowly inside of her. Buffy was lying on her side and as there was no wall in front of her, she clutched the sheets with her fists. Then a bigger hand grasped her left gently into his. She opened her eyes to look at him over the shoulder.


“Don't,” he said quietly into her ear.


A tremor ran through her. Now he raised both of her hands over her head, and held them there. The other started exploring her body; her breasts and neck, then down her stomach and... past her throbbing mound, not touching it. Buffy whimpered.


“Don't move,” he uttered sensuously but firmly. Only Spike could command and make it sound like a caress. She wanted to obey and closed her eyes to let the sensations wash over her.


Slowly Spike sped up his thrusts and she started to push back.


“Oh yes... just like that baby...” he told her and he said many other things she did not really pay attention to. His free hand moved from her outer tights to the inner, and then to her pussy. Buffy felt how the whole new sensation started filling her as his nimble fingers played with her sensitive nub. Then he picked up the speed even more and she ached to touch him like he was touching her.


“Spike...”


“Shh... later baby.” His voice was rough.


He turned her onto her stomach and rammed into her with all his might. Now he was beyond words and the only thing she heard was his heavy panting.


Buffy needed more. She wrenched her hands free and wrestled them into reverse positions. Spike gave a cry of protest, but the next moment he was under her, his hands on her breasts. She did not set the rhythm; it was already there and she just rode it out.


“Mine... mine, you're mine...”


She did not know who was saying the words, possibly they both were. She moved now, her hands on his shoulders, and his on her hips. When he touched her clit, she saw stars. His other hand shot behind her neck and brought her lips to his. They swallowed each others' shouts of release.



* * *



By the time Buffy woke he would be far away. Spike hated doing that, but sometimes he just felt that he was not courageous enough to watch her wake in his arms. At times it was okay, she would open her eyes, smile at him and engage him in the next round of shagging. Sometimes it would be slow and sensual, sometimes just a quick fuck. But then inevitably she would get up and return to her own life; her life in the daylight. He knew she had to do things like going to work and everything, but he hated seeing her leave just the same.


She often smiled and kissed him when she did, but occasionally she rushed to dress and wash up before running out when she was in a hurry, or sometimes she just snuck down to the kitchen or a bathroom, only to return the next moment to begin hasty dressing.


He knew that he was being irrational, but every time she got up from bed, he felt abandoned like a stray puppy. He knew that Buffy wouldn't cheat on him while they were together, but these fears were still the constants of his unlife. A day will come when she will fall in love again and one of these mornings would be the last for him.


This morning he again couldn't stand the thought of seeing her go, but for different reasons. The mysterious scent on the killed vamp had done a number on him. The memories of his first time ever had gripped his unbeating heart and had been squeezing it ever since.


Spike hoped Buffy didn't consider him too possessive. Even while making love to her, half the time he felt the need to hold back, or lest she thought him being too violent, too controlling. Having control was important to him, but he knew that it was important to her too.


He felt plagued as he fiddled with the heavy metal ring on his ring finger. Since that blasted scent had reached his nose, he couldn't stop comparing his every sexual encounter with his first ever. It had been that way for a very long time. Dru had told him, that it would always be like that for him but with Buffy it had always been different. Up until now.


Sometimes Spike had suspected that his Sire had cursed him with this affliction. Or maybe he himself had. Was it some residual guilt that vampires were not supposed to have? It was a long time due to letting go, and yet he couldn't. He was starting to fear that the first woman he had loved would be always there to haunt him.


He really needed a drink. Spike opened the bottle and took a gulp. A large one. The liquid warmed his dead body from the inside and he grinned. He had calculated correctly; just before the first real morning light hit, he had leaped into his crypt, hugging a bottle of JD to his chest. Thank god for 24/7 liquor stores. It had been hard for him not to indulge in a hunt, but he had left himself little time, so once more he had to choose – one happy meal or the bottle. He had thought of Buffy and taken the latter. Spike was grateful for it, but he was not sure how long it would take until he slipped. And how long it would take for her to find out.


He couldn’t lose her. Spike took another gulp, undressed and went downstairs to bed. Soon he had finished half the bottle and put it on the floor before he'd spill it. He already felt better.


Buffy would never find out.



* * *



Next time she woke, she was alone. Buffy shut her eyes tightly and sighed. She had no idea when the damn vampire would be there in the morning and when he wouldn't. The first moment when she woke alone was always painful. Her first morning after had left its mark.


Every time they had sex at her house, she tried extra hard to make it good for him, to wore him out, so he wouldn't want to, or wouldn't have the energy to leave in the morning. But every once in a while he still did. 'God damn that vampire!'


Rationally she understood that Spike had his own life and things to do... Getting stuck in her house for a day could be... Would it really be that bad?


Buffy got up and sauntered to the bathroom to conduct her morning hygiene rituals. A short while later she was already downstairs drinking her morning yoghurt.


She realised that there were no guarantees in relationships and she thought she knew what Spike wanted or didn't want from the one they had. He rarely spoke about what he really thought, but the seemingly careless image of a thoughtless and reckless vampire had started falling apart during the first few weeks of their relationship. She knew now, that there was more to him than what met the eye. That was why she had fallen for him.


Yes, he was not the one-track-minded simpleton they had all thought he was, but what exactly that 'more' was, she didn’t entirely grasp. Up until the other day Buffy hadn't had any idea that he played the piano; maybe there were more important things that she didn't know about him? There certainly was.


She knew that Spike was loyal to those he cared about, that he was brave and could act selfless when he felt strongly about something or someone. He cared about Dawn, had cared about Dru, and even seemed to care about her mom.


Once Spike had told her that he loved her. Back then she had still been with Riley, and the idea itself had seemed ridiculous. Especially in the light of the bot incident. The robot had disgusted her more than anything. She had laughed at his professed feelings, told him awful things; that he was a thing and therefore couldn't feel. That he was beneath her. He never spoke to her about it.


At first, when they had just hooked up, she’d contemplated apologising, but how could she, when she had meant every nasty word, and even now she was not entirely convinced that she had been completely wrong. Buffy wished she was wrong. She wished that Spike would be able to love her. To mean those three little words. But then... Wouldn't he have said them again if he at least believed them to be true?


Angel was capable of love because of his soul, but even if he hadn't left, Buffy wasn't so sure anymore that she would prefer what she had had with Angel over the relationship she and Spike shared now. Although she had been happy with Angel once, now she felt as if her love for him had been a girl's love, a deep infatuation that could have blossomed into something more, but had been cut at the roots when he had left her. Her feelings for Spike though...


She did not know if he was the one for her. She felt at least as strongly about him as she had about Angel, but that was the extent of what she was willing to admit. Would it feel like dying when Spike left? She hoped not.


On numerous occasions in the past, Spike had professed to love Dru and at the time she had believed him. They all had. The way the two were together screamed 'devotion', 'passion', and ‘love’, but they were in a Sire and Childe relationship. It was a deep bond. The question was; could a vampire love a human? Could a vampire really love without a soul? Angel had proved, that it was not possible. He wouldn't have left her it if that was possible.






Somehow Buffy made it through the day of labour at the Palace and by the closing time she felt tired, dirty and greasy. There were only two of her co-workers left; Jerry was finishing up by the stove and Mindy was sweeping the floors while chatting away at them both.


Ignoring the stupid girl, Buffy bent down and crawled into the low but deep cabinet to rearrange things Terry – another brainless co-worker - had made a mess of. It would be pointless to tell her; the blonde – Harmony variety blonde - didn't know a shelf from an oven.


Buffy still had no idea how come she had butchered up her studies like that. She would go back next semester, honestly she would. Even Spike thought...


She heard a knock against the window. Or door; everything was glass here. Half the time Buffy felt like a lizard living in a terrarium that was being gawked at by hundreds of people every day. Although yeah, lizards didn't have to work.


The rapid knock turned into an impatient one. Buffy grunted. Some people just didn't get that they weren't open round the clock. Buffy heard someone open the door and cursed. Mindy's flirtatious voice carried up to Buffy and she ground her teeth.


“Buffy!” Mindy bellowed then.


“I'm not closing up for you!” she yelled back from the closet.


Heavy footsteps came closer and Buffy cursed the stupid girl who was willing to let just anyone in that was even remotely male-looking. He could be a killer for all they knew. Or a vampire.


“We're closed,” she said resolutely to no one particular. To everybody. To Mindy.


“I'll just go away then, shall I?”


In her surprise, she jumped and knocked her head on the ceiling of the box she was working in. Then, grumbling, she crawled out.


“I was right!” She looked at him from under her brows. “Mindy,” she yelled, “you let a killer and a vampire into the store!”


Spike raised his eyebrow, amused.


“Had a good day, I see.”


Neither paid any mind to what Mindy had to say.






They finished up shortly and Buffy was free to leave. Spike did not try to kiss her and she didn't blame him; she smelled gross. And he did not. She shot him a look. 'Stupid vampire!'


“What?” he asked then.


“Nothing, ” she grumbled again. She was mastering the grumbling in rapid pace. Soon it would be her special Slayer-speak. Maybe then certain creatures would take a hint of leaving. Her. Alone. There was nothing she could do about her feet stomping.


Buffy almost sensed his eyebrow rising, but still he didn't say anything. 'Good!'


They had been walking only for a couple of minutes when they heard a scream.


“Mindy!” Buffy shouted and took off, confident that Spike would follow.


There was only one of them. A middle aged man of approximately the same height as Spike but much more bulky was holding Mindy by her upper arms and shaking her.


“Hey Mr Caveman, can I have the smidgeon of your already short-spanned attention?” Buffy yelled. “And let Mindy go while you're at it!” she added as the man addressed turned to her.


But the guy only growled. The sound allowed Buffy to relax; it was only a human and moderately drunk at that.


“Didn't you hear? Let her go, that's no way to treat a lady!” Spike's tone wasn't nearly as proper as the words. He sounded bored.


“You two, stay out of it,” the man said, but let the girl go. “It's none of your business!” he added as he stepped between Mindy and them.


“Oh yeah?” Spike challenged. “We're making it our business, you twat.”


The heavy brows of the older man rose mockingly.


“Ha! An English princess, is it?” he slurred.


At the same time Buffy asked Mindy if she was okay and the girl’s shaky nod showed that she was still a bit scared. Buffy saw from the corner of her eye Spike’s cold smile.


“This English’s gonna kick a certain Yank arse if he'll insist on hanging around,” he answered calmly.


That seemed to incense the man.


“Back off, you punk! It's not your fucking business how I speak to my daughter.”


The man had stepped closer to Spike and now they were sizing each other up and throwing insults. Buffy took the opportunity to walk up to Mindy, and after making sure she really wasn’t hurt, turned to the men.


She was actually surprised; Spike rarely took any insults to heart and usually brawled just for the fun of it. But this time the notable twinkle was missing from his eyes, and he seemed tense. Buffy took a couple of steps closer to them; Spike should be smarter than to piss off a human.


“Friggin' fairy!” Spike hissed.


“Enough!” Buffy shouted, but it was too late; the drunk made a move to hit Spike, and the vampire retaliated even before the meaty fist connected with his face. The man fell like a sack of potatoes and Spike's eyes narrowed in grim satisfaction. His chin rose, nostrils flared, and Buffy's eyes widened.



To Be Continued

Chapter 4


I'm Just a Wind-Up Toy



At the last possible moment Spike fell to his knees, clutched his head and did all the usual things to show how painful it was. Personally, he thought that he deserved Emmy, Grammy and maybe even Oscar for his performance.


A compassionate maiden part to his hero-in-pain play was cancelled though, as Buffy did not fly to console him. It was just as well, he wasn't really suffering anyway. Through his narrowed eyes he watched as both girls checked the vitals of the bloody human.


“Dad? Dad!” Mindy was calling worriedly.


Figures, the girl gets roughed up by her dad and when 'the real hero' turns up to rescue her, the drunkard gets all the attention.


“What's wrong with him?” Mindy asked, gesturing towards Spike.


He groaned for show but when Mindy was still the only one to throw him a glance, he decided to finally get up.


“He'll be okay,” the Slayer said.


Indifferently.


His jaw clenched for a second but he ordered it to relax. Spike rubbed his head. He stopped after a moment; he wasn't sure he wasn't overdoing it but Buffy wasn't paying attention anyway. Besides, he didn't really even have a headache. Or actually... Now he did. It tended to start when he got angry. And now he was suddenly pissed.


Spike's fists clenched and unclenched as he listened to the girls' discussion as to what to do next.


“Spike, do you mind getting us a cab? We have to get him home.”


He glared at the Slayer, but nodded and set off towards the main street.


Half an hour later after having helped Mindy to get her father onto the old lumpy couch in her house, they were outside again.


“What's wrong?” Buffy said.


He didn't look at her. “Do you want to shower first or go straight patrolling?” he asked and congratulated himself on his steady voice and indifferent tone.


“Spike, I know something's wrong, I'm not stupid.”


'There goes the second Oscar then.' But out loud he said, “It's just a headache, Slayer.”



* * *



That night they slept in his crypt. It meant that she'd be leaving before the sunrise, but this time he didn't mind it very much. He needed time to think.


All of their arguments went like this. They yelled and raved, insulted each other and then they never talked about it again. Like after she'd got him from Sam's. After she saw him play the piano, she only asked about it just that one time during the sex and never brought it up again. The reasons for the fight never got discussed.


Spike didn't know how to deal with his anger. How too deal with any of it. There was only one option open for him now that she'd manipulated him into not running off after their arguments and asked not to drink. But if he couldn't stay away, if he couldn't vent properly - couldn't fight it off with her, couldn't get pissed, couldn't kill... If he didn't want to be dumped, where did it leave him? The way that Spike saw it, the only option was to not have fights with her. How he was going to pull it off, Spike had no bloody idea. Obviously he had to find a new outlet.


Just this evening she had angered him beyond measure. She'd brushed his pain off so casually, like it was nothing... All right, so he knew that she didn't love him, but a polite 'are you okay' wouldn't have been so difficult to offer now, would it? But it was okay, he could hold it inside of him until she left his bed and then... Suddenly he found himself wishing she had gone home. He listened to her steady breathing; so peaceful, like everything was all right. She always acted that everything was fine, so maybe for her it was? How was it even possible that she didn't sense the big fat elephant in the room?


A stab of pain and loneliness shot through him but Spike pushed it down. 'Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't...' He turned on his side, so that his back was to Buffy. He screwed his eyes shut. Up until now he had managed to hold it inside. Okay, so their coupling had been a tad violent this time, but Buffy had enjoyed it anyway, hadn't she?


'Just don't tell her you're pissed off. Don't like it? Deal with it. You feel neglected? Oh, poor William! Piss poor excuse of a man you are, you ponce! Feel weepy after letting a girl walk all over you like that?'


A growl escaped his tight throat.


'Don't shout, don't argue, don't drink! Don't have A BLOODY OPINION! EVER AGAIN!'


Spike wrenched himself out of the sheets and jumped up.


“Spike?” she said, her voice sleepy.


He felt his nails dig into his palms.


'Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.'


“Spike?”


He heard her getting up from the bed.


“Don't come any closer.”


His voice was quiet but intense. Spike heard her come closer still and he whirled around.


“Don't you ever listen to what I say?” he roared. “Does my opinion count for so little that when I ask you to do this tiny little thing you flat out ignore me and still do what you want?”


Somehow his chest was moving up and down as if he were breathing, and as he heard the blood rush in her veins, Spike realised that he had vamped.


“Spike? What's wrong, baby?” she asked quietly and dare he believe it – somewhat apprehensively?


He closed his eyes, turned his back to her and said quietly, “Go away, Buffy.”


There was not a sound behind him for a minute and he repeated, “However little this relationship matters to you, Buffy, right now I'm begging you, just leave.”


For some ten seconds the silence was deafening, but then he sensed her backing away from him and rustling around with her clothes. Spike sighed in relief. And disappointment.


“We'll talk tomorrow, okay?” she said in a tiny voice.


He didn't find it in him to answer at the moment and she repeated her question. Her voice was calm and controlled and it broke his heart.


“Yes, Slayer, whatever you want. But tomorrow.”


She left.


And a traitorous sob escaped his throat.



* * *



Buffy didn't understand. She knew that Spike wasn't entirely happy with his life and maybe their relationship was part of it, but she had no clue what had caused this particular outburst. Like she had no idea why he sometimes felt the need to disappear after their fights. Granted, it hadn't happened for a while now, but she wasn't so conceited as to believe that just because she asked him not to do that he'd never do it again. She understood that at times Spike needed some space to be away from her and maybe that was what it all had been about tonight? Buffy knew that although she always tried not to crowd him, she rarely succeeded; so when he had asked her to leave, she did just that.


She quit the cemetery and turned towards Revello. Buffy wasn't sure that she wanted to go home yet, but what was the point in hanging around so near to dawn? Most of the nasties were already in bed, but as she didn't have work today and wasn't at all sleepy either, she took the longer route. She'd still be home before her mom woke anyway.


Suddenly she remembered the moment when she'd almost thought that his chip had stopped functioning. The long seconds after he'd hit Mindy's father and before the pain kicked in had her paralysed with fear. Sometimes she saw it in her nightmares; Spike hitting a human and realising that he could really do it again - that he could kill. Nightmares about how he ripped into the throats of innocent passers-by and feasted upon them in front of her, knowing that she couldn't kill him.


When Spike had finally fallen on his knees and groaned, all she had felt was relief. She realised that to Mindy it must have seemed strange that she hadn't turned to her boyfriend the moment it happened. But it had been impossible. She didn't want Spike to see the gratefulness for something that hurt him reflected in her eyes nor hear it in her voice.


Maybe she should have apologised for it later, maybe that had been what had angered the vampire so much. But would that have been enough to cause him to kick her out like he had just now? One thing she knew for certain; it wasn't so much anger he felt, but hurt. Was it about her, about something she'd done or something unrelated to their relationship altogether? Buffy was resolved to talk to him - she couldn't bear to lose him over it.


Whatever he thought this relationship was about -


However little this relationship matters to you...


- for her it was about being with a person that she didn't have to hold back with. She could be herself while fighting, talking about what she really thought and letting herself go during sex. At least it had started out that way. Now, she wasn't so sure any more. Was keeping the relationship worth all the pain and uncertainty that came with it?


However little this relationship matters to you...


Might it be that his pain was caused by the same reasons she suffered? Did he think that he was unimportant to her? Could it really be that he cared so much about her that he'd want to know she cared too? Dare she risk everything and tell him what she felt?


Buffy, right now I'm begging you, just leave...


It had been a hard thing to do. She knew that he was hurting and being unable to help him hurt her too. Would he have still asked her to leave if he knew her feelings for him or would Spike have trusted her enough to confide in her? Buffy wondered what would hurt more; knowing that he continued using her while knowing that he meant to her so much more than she to him, or him letting her down gently and breaking it off with her?


She threw the thought aside. She'd see him tomorrow and decide then. She'd know what to say when she saw the look in his eyes. With that resolution she reached home.



* * *



She stepped out into the night and spotted him smoking behind the tree. She knew that she was late.


“You could have come in, you know. I know you've been out here for over an hour.”


Spike only shrugged.


“Mom wanted help with the gallery books. Time for annual auditing or something like that.” She paused. “And you knew we were alone in there,” she added somewhat accusingly.


“You could have invited me.”


Buffy had been so full of resolve to talk to Spike about the night and so afraid of it at the same time, that she found herself postponing it. She could have begged off and helped her mother some other evening or she could have asked Spike to come in to wait, but every time she decided upon something, her courage failed her.


Then finally when the books were done and she had run out of excuses, she left the house. Buffy had already opened her mouth to tackle the problem that she really wanted to talk about, but the moment she saw his closed off face, she'd turned her gaze away and quietly started towards the cemeteries. Spike fell in step aside her and for some minutes they walked in silence. She opened her mouth again and closed it. The silence continued and was turning thicker by the second.


Suddenly, she stopped walking and took him by the coat sleeve.


“Spike-”


He grabbed her and crashed his lips on hers. The kiss was urgent and violent. Were she a regular human his hands would have crushed her ribs, but as it was, she was clutching at him just as desperately; her whole body was aflame, trembling, her eyes closed. She broke off from him only when she started feeling dizzy.


For a while they just stood there, holding each other and panting. She couldn't believe that just some hours ago she'd been wondering if it was worth it. Hell, yeah, it was. Anything was worth the way that he made her feel.


“I'm sorry about yesterday,” she said.


She felt him stiffen.


“What?”


“You know... about not...” She swallowed. Buffy wasn't sure if this was what Spike had been upset about, but she hoped that if her apology was vague enough he'd just forgive her and all would be well again.


“About what, pet?”


“Well... you were hurt last night and I didn't...”


Spike's body relaxed.


“That's okay, pigeon. You had other things on your mind I suppose.”


Buffy released the breath that she'd been holding. She'd managed to nail the problem after all.


“Yes, but I still should have...” She looked up at him and stopped. He looked tired; there were dark rings under his eyes and vampires weren't supposed to have those. Had her indifference really bothered him so much? It threw her and she looked away as she babbled on, “It's just that... Look, I know you don't like having the chip, but it's kind of important to me and I'm sorry it's like that, but the things are as they are and I'm what I am and you are-”


“Buffy, stop.”


He stepped back and gripped her forearms. She raised her eyes to his.


“That's okay, love, I understand.”


She swallowed.


“You do?”


He nodded.


“And I'm sorry for freaking out on you like I did.” He looked away and continued thoughtfully, “It's jus'... Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it you know.” He was talking so quietly now that she had to hold her breath to hear him better. “You. Me. Us. Do you think it's worth it?”

He returned his gaze to her. The look in his eyes was intent, searching, as if wanting to find something particular; almost begging for it to be there. If she knew what it was, she would give it to him in a heart beat. Anything. Except for one thing. The question rose in her unbidden and was out of her mouth before she could stop it.


“You want to break up?”


As she'd said it, she felt coldness filling her from head to toe. She didn't really want to hear the answer to that.


Then she heard a roar and felt herself being tackled backwards into the bushes. It was something big and weird smelling. She threw it off of her and jumped up. The huge cat-looking demon was not as large as it had seemed at first. It was just a bit on the furry side. In fact, it had more fur than any feline had a right to have.

Spike attacked it from the side but it was quicker than most cats. It whirled and flung the vampire into a heavy headstone. Buffy jumped on it just in time to save Spike's jugular from being sliced. They managed to kill the feline only by smashing its head with another headstone. It was a messy business all in all.


Spike was sitting on the ground holding his hand to the throat. She bent down to look at it.


“Are you all right?”


“'M fine. It's jus' a scratch.”


She crouched closer and removed his hand. There was some blood on the skin but he was right. It really was just a scratch. Buffy smiled.


“Want me to kiss it better?”


A slow grin appeared on Spike's face. “Nah,” he drawled. “Jus' want to kiss.”


He put his hand behind her head and drew her on top of him, but winced and groaned the next second.


“You told me you were all right!”


“I am. The back's bit bruised that's all.”


When he turned them around so that he was on top, she noticed that he had still been lying on the smashed headstone.


“Let me see.”


She pushed him off and stood on her knees. He didn't stop her as she lifted his shirt and examined his lower back. If she didn't know better she'd say that he was basking in her attention. Gently, she caressed her fingers over the large purple blotch and covered it back up.


“You'll live.”


He smiled, rose to his knees and pulled her to him. The first touch of his lips was gentle, but when he pushed his tongue in, the kiss became demanding. His hands started to explore her body and Buffy whimpered.



*



The last bar they had intended to raid that night was the usual for them. It was an odd place – although it wasn't really a demon bar, non-human patrons were not too rare. Still, the pub was almost always one of the calmest places that Buffy and Spike ventured into. Mostly they just walked in and out, sometimes taking out a couple of vamps who were trying to feed on some unsuspecting victims.


This time everything was different. The first thing that Buffy noticed was Spike's posture straightening and his walk turning even more predator-like as his gaze danced over the room and its occupants. It took her two seconds to sense that the whole atmosphere was charged with tension and most people (and demons) were talking in hushed voices or staring glumly in front of them. Even the music sounded somehow subdued.


Spike slowly loitered to the bar and sat. Buffy went along but as her boyfriend engaged the barman she turned her back to them to observe the room.


“So, what's up? Slow evening, huh?” the vamp asked.


“You know... the usual,” the man answered without looking up. He wiped the counter in front of Spike although it wasn't at all dirty. “What can I get you two?”


“Beer and a coke.”


Spike had drunk only light alcohol through the evening. Buffy didn't dare to think that it was because she had asked him not to, but she wasn't the one to complain anyway. Spike took the glasses and moved towards the booth at the farthest wall.


“The guy at the bar seems nervous,” Spike said in a quiet voice.


“You think he knows what's going on?”


“Probably. I think that whatever it is it's in the back room.”


Buffy glanced at the small door next to the bar counter, then grinned at Spike and stood.


“What are we waiting for then?” she said in a bright voice, but before she could head anywhere, Spike grabbed her hand.


“Sit down, Slayer,” he said, his voice tense but level. “No need to rush. Do you see those four gits there? They are bodyguards.”


Buffy looked in the direction indicated.


“Who? Those ratty old men?” Her expression was one of disdain. “I could take them in my sleep and so could you!”


“True, but they are still Waldrusk demons, not old men, and while we deal with them, whoever's in the back, will have time to flee.”


He tugged at her arm and reluctantly she sat down again.


“What do you suggest?” she grumbled. Usually Spike was right about battle strategies and things like that; she just didn't want to admit it.


“We drink, and if after a while nothing happens, we leave.”


“What? You-”


Spike squeezed Buffy's arm that he was still holding and hissed, “You're drawing attention! Do you even know the meaning of being sneaky? We leave only to move in from the back with no Waldrusks in the way.”


”Fuck you, vampire,” she said under her breath. It wasn't meant to be a malicious remark. Buffy hated when he made her feel foolish. “I'm gonna get some fresh air. There's nothing to do here,” she said in a loud voice and left for the front exit.


Spike clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. He told himself that he would not get angry again. It didn't matter; she'd agreed to his plan, hadn't she? Spike finished his beer in two gulps and returned to the bar. He wasn't going to spoil the evening by going off at her again.


“Jack Daniels,” he said. “And make it double.”


To Be Continued