Riley stood cloaked in shadows as he stared at the crumpled form of Xander Harris. A goofy grin spread across his face as he listened to the young man‘s heart beat fading. His plan was working perfectly; why risk his own neck trying to kill Buffy when he could send Xander in his place?

Riley felt extremely proud of the fact that he had sired his first childe when he himself was only a few days old. He went through a mental checklist, ticking each item off in his head, ‘Found a patsy to kill the slayer, check; drained him, check; gave him my blood to turn him…’ Riley frowned; lifting his wrists he stared at the unmarked skin. “Shit!” He slapped a hand to his neck frantically searching. “Shit!” In a blind panic he hauled his shirt up, checking for signs of recent blood flow. “Shit - shit - shit!”

Riley’s mind raced. ‘What should I do? What should I do?’ Almost in tears, the ex-soldier began to bite at his wrist; he winced as his sharp fangs missed his veins and grated painfully against the bone instead. Ignoring the sensation, he began to gnaw at his wrist like a dog with a bone, shedding tears of relief when blood finally began to flow.

He dropped to his knees beside Xander and cradled the boy’s head on his lap, pressing his wrist to the dying boy’s mouth in a desperate attempt to salvage his botched attempt at turning. Xander, however, was too close to death to suckle on Riley’s proffered arm; the blood simply pooled in his mouth before it began to leak out and run down his cheek.

Riley began to keen in distress, “I want Harmony.” Openly sobbing now, he used his free hand to grasp Xander's chin and began to move it up and down in an attempt to simulate suckling. Unfortunately all this action managed to do was cause the blood to splash out of Xander's mouth at a more rapid pace. Disheartened, Riley decided that he had failed and let his hand drop to Xander's throat, stroking it lightly. “Please, man, come on, I need mommy to be proud of me.”

Xander's throat suddenly convulsed, a loud gurgling noise escaping from him as he swallowed a mouthful of blood. Riley jumped in surprise, pulling away from the boy and letting his head fall to the concrete with a loud crack. The ex-soldier winced at the sound before shrugging and moving forward, continuing to feed his new baby.

Riley waited patiently until he decided that Xander had ingested enough blood to turn him. He was starting to feel dizzy and he wanted to get Xander back to Harmony’s lair before the sun rose.

After climbing unsteadily to his feet he awkwardly manhandled Xander to an upright position and propped him against a wall as he tried to work out the best way to move him. Riley stepped away from his new childe and began to pace as his mind searched for a solution. A strange noise caught his attention and he turned in time to see Xander sliding back down the wall, his head bouncing against the hard brick as he went.

Riley rushed forward, grabbing him before he fell any further. With a deep sigh and a loud groan he lifted Xander up and threw him across his shoulder before staggering down the street towards the lair.

By the time he was halfway home Riley was beginning to feel the strain of carrying Xander's dead weight. With a grimace he carefully set Xander down against a wall again. Exhausted, he pressed his body against Xander's, using his weight to prevent the other man from falling. Casting a quick eye to his surroundings, the vampire realised that they were near the Bronze and sighed with relief. ‘Nearly home.’

As he looked down at the pale face of his new childe, Riley couldn’t help but smile once more at the cleverness of his plan. He leaned forward and rested his head on Xander's shoulder as he admired his bite mark—well bite marks. So engrossed was he in admiring his handiwork, Riley didn’t notice the group of teenagers who had turned into the street.

“Ewwww, man get a room,” a disgusted voice cut through the night air.

Riley turned and growled at the interlopers menacingly, eliciting peals of laughter from the group. He frowned and lifted a hand to his face. ‘Damn. Where were his lumpies?' Riley concentrated on bringing his game face forward, and finally, after several tries, he felt his face shift as he leapt towards the group. Only to find the street empty, their faint laughter echoing off the walls.

A loud crash drew his attention and he sighed when he noticed Xander crumpled in a pile of trash. Hauling Xander into his arms once more, Riley renewed his trip home. He had only gone a few steps when he put his foot down on a stray can and stumbled forward, Xander slipping from his arms and crashing headfirst into the concrete once again. Idly Riley wondered if you could get brain damage if you were already dead.

*****

Spike walked in to Willy’s and quickly looked around; he noted the complete lack of any of the usual customers. On the floor were several piles of dust, and some rather disgusting smelling demon goo. Seated at a table on the far side of the room was a very sulky, cranky-looking slayer.

Willy was doing his best job of hiding behind the bar, trying not to draw attention to himself. The diminutive blonde had already taken out a large proportion of his customers tonight and successfully scared off the rest. Not knowing what else to do, and really not wanting to have to try to deal with throwing the slayer out come closing time, he had resorted to the only possible solution his troubled brain could come up with… he had phoned Spike and practically begged the vampire to come and save him.

In the end Willy had agreed to clear Spike’s fairly extensive tab if he would just come and take the Slayer away before she did any more harm to his establishment.

Spike walked over to the slayer and, as she fixed him with an intense glare, raised his hands in the air, palms out. “Ok, love, don’t you think it is time to go now? Terrorised the locals enough, I’d wager.” Slowly lowering his hands, he reached for and lit a cigarette, sighing as he exhaled a large cloud of smoke.

“How did you know I was here?” Buffy demanded.

The vampire pulled a small black object from his duster pocket and, dangling it in the air between his thumb and index finger, slowly waved it in her face.

“YOU have a cell phone?” Her voice was incredulous as she stared at the offending object. “And how come I don’t have one?”

“Often wondered that myself, pet. Seems like it’d be a useful tool for you an’ your bloody Scooby pals to have. Would certainly beat runnin’ around all over town like a bunch of wankers tryin’ to find each other when some emergency or another pops up. But who am I to say?” Spike lowered himself to perch on the edge of her table, fixing her with his deep blue eyes. “So, you wanna tell me what this is all about?” he asked, inclining his head to indicate the state of the room, which was even more debilitated than usual.

“I’m the Slayer, Spike, that’s what I do…slay!” Her answer was delivered with the resignation of someone who has accepted their own fate, but isn’t particularly happy about it.

“I see,” he drawled, “so, harmless folks enjoyin’ a peaceful drink with a couple of mates down their local have suddenly moved up onto the slayer‘s most wanted list. That it?” He raised one eyebrow enquiringly as he took in the dejected look on her face.

“They were… it was… damn it Spike, why should I have to justify myself to you?”

“You don’t, love. Only to yourself.”

“It was them, okay!?”

“Them?” His head tilted to the side, his blue eyes becoming even more intense than normal. “Not sure I followed you round that bend, pet.”

“The… the girls—vampires—from the other night. The ones in that place.” Her voice broke, catching slightly in her throat. She lowered her face to stare at the ground so he wouldn’t see the misery etched upon it.

“Oh, I see… well…” He was at a loss as to what to say to her. He knew she was hurting, and he had been the one to take her there, to show her how her bloody useless wanker of a boyfriend was spending his nights. When he should have been happily sleeping by her side and thanking all the powers that be that he was bloody lucky enough to be there, he was instead heading out for suckjobs at a filthy vampire flophouse.

The Slayer had obviously been drinking; there were a couple of empty glasses sitting on the table, but he could tell that she was far from being drunk—just feeling miserable. The girl had been dealt a low blow by someone who was supposed to care about her. If he could he would rip the undeserving bastard’s head right off his Neanderthal shoulders.

Spike pulled out a chair and sat so that he was facing her; he gently took her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. “He didn’t bloody deserve you, pet. He never did, the stupid bloody git.”

She drew a shuddering breath and continued quietly, “What’s wrong with me, Spike? Why…”

“No! There is nothing wrong with you,” he denied vehemently, “nothing at all. Don’t you go blaming yourself for that git’s problems, you hear?”

Her eyes flooded with unshed tears. “Then why do they always leave?”

“Well that’s easy, love; you have decidedly poor taste in men, is all it is. I mean take my Grandsire—a bigger wanker never walked the earth. Never happy unless he’s got somethin’ to be brooding about. And Captain Cardboard, our all American hero, so bleedin‘ insecure he can’t handle the thought of a woman bein’ stronger and a better fighter than him. What you need, Slayer, is someone who appreciates you for what you are. Someone who’s not afraid of loving you with everything they are.” He reached out and stroked her face tenderly with one hand. Staring intently into her eyes he drew a deep, calming breath before continuing, his voice losing its teasing edge, “Someone who can fight by your side and love you like you deserve.”

His eyes were so deep and so full of emotion that she thought she might drown in them, lose herself forever in the love that shone out of those gorgeous cerulean depths. Why had she never seen before? How could she have been so blind that she had not noticed just how gorgeous he was—and what amazingly beautiful eyes he had?

Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat she asked, “Did you have someone in mind?”

“As a matter of fact…” Spike leaned in; slowly inching closer and closer until he could taste her breath, her lips but a whisper away. Steeling himself for her rejection, he closed the remaining distance, brushing her lips lightly and sending sparks of longing shooting through his body at the gentle touch. Unconsciously Buffy moistened her lips, the tip of her tongue ghosting across Spike's lips as she did so. The vampire allowed his mouth to open slightly as Buffy moved her body closer and reached out tentatively with her tongue once more, gently caressing the roof of his mouth, before meeting his in a slow sensual dance.

Spike slid from the chair to rest on his knees in front of her; his arms sliding around her waist and pulling her pliable body closer to him. Soft moans of need escaped them both as the kiss deepened.

A not-so-discreet cough from the direction of the bar interrupted their exploration, bringing them back to the reality of their situation. Spike grimaced as he realised he was kneeling on Willy’s not overly hygienic floor. He glanced in fear at the slayer, terrified that he would see revulsion on her face as she realised what they had just been doing. Instead all he saw was confusion, mingled with a raw primal hunger.

“Ah, Slayer, shall we?” Spike nodded toward the door.

“Yeah. Yeah, we so should,” Buffy agreed breathlessly, unable to drag her eyes away from the vampire’s gorgeous mouth; oh, how she wanted more of those delicious lips.

As they made their way out into the street Willy breathed a huge sigh of relief. If it wasn’t bad enough having a cranky slayer come in and kill half his customers, he then had to deal with removing a highly explosive master vampire and the slayer before they did something he was pretty sure they would never forgive him for seeing.

Outside, Spike’s eyes widened in amazement as Buffy slid an arm around his waist, cuddling into him as they walked silently down the street. Spike stopped suddenly and, coming to a decision, he turned to face her. He looked into her earnest little face as he spoke quietly and from the heart, his voice thick with emotion, “Buffy, love, I want you to know, 's not a game. I’m not playing with you, or trying to mess with your feelings or anything. I love you. Have for a long time. And… well there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, kitten. I… I just wanted you to know that.” His hand shook as he reached out to stroke her hair back from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear.

Unneeded breath caught in his throat as Buffy reached out and gently cupped his face, her thumb running along the sharp line of his jaw; moving closer she reached up to place a soft kiss on his lips and then reluctantly drew away before the kiss had a chance to deepen.

“Giles gave me a key to his place, we could um… well… he is away for the night… we could… be alone.” She ducked her head shyly; worried that he might think she was some kind of a skanky ho.

Almost certain that he was dreaming, but unwilling to let the opportunity pass, Spike drew her warm body close to his. He ran his fingers gently through her hair and held her gently pressed against his chest; his eyes fluttered closed as he marvelled that she wanted to be here, in his arms.

“I would love that, Buffy; you have no idea how much. But are you sure, pet? I don’t want you to do anything you might regret later. I never want there to be any regrets with us.” His love and concern for her were clearly evident in his voice as he spoke. He nuzzled into her hair, breathing in the delicious aroma of Buffy, while he waited in agony for her answer.

The slayer snuggled closer to her former enemy and rubbed her cheek against his chest, thrilling at the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her, his tender caresses and the chill-inducing sensation of him nuzzling and breathing into her hair. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his adoring blue ones. “I’m sure, Spike. No regrets, promise.” She flashed him a million-watt smile that made both his heart, and other parts of his body, swell in response. With a playful poke to his ribs, she laughed and announced, “Come on then, vampire. Unless you’d rather just stand here all night?”

Laughing, Spike pulled her to him for a quick kiss. “Lead the way then, love.”

*****

Riley could feel the relief course through him as he finally made his way into the cemetery that housed Harmony’s lair. In his eagerness to show his beloved sire his new toy Riley had accidentally gone to the wrong cemetery, twice. While struggling to open the door to the crypt Harmony had commandeered Riley accidentally knocked Xander's head against the doorjamb; pausing for a moment , he merely shrugged and decided that one more hit couldn’t cause that much more damage.

He staggered towards the bed and dropped the lifeless body onto the smooth pink satin sheets; smiling eagerly he awaited his sire’s praise.

“What is this?” Harmony reached out and prodded the corpse with one perfectly manicured finger, pushing it onto its back, where she was awarded a view of Xander Harris’ face and the multiple sets of bite marks adorning his neck.

“He’s mine…I made him!” Riley’s face was filled with fervent enthusiasm; she would be so proud of him…he knew it!

“You made… you turned this?” she shrilled. “How could you? Why… Eew, get this filthy thing out of my home…NOW! Oh my God, what is that he is wearing? And what is that smell?” Harmony backed away, almost in tears that her perfect pink sheets would now have to be thrown out. “Get rid of it!”

Riley’s face dropped, “But I made him. I did it! I thought you’d be proud of me.”

His voice took on a sulky tone and his shoulders drooped. His defeated attitude combined with his pout, tearing eyes, and the quivering bottom lip were enough to make Harmony reconsider how harsh she had just been with her childe.

“Oh fine. You can keep him. But could you please put some decent clothes on him?”

*****

Buffy opened the door to the watcher’s home, while Spike reached out with his senses to ensure that Giles was indeed away for the night. As it closed behind him Spike suddenly found himself pinned hard against the front door. Strong, warm, soft slayer body pressed tight against him, as her hungry lips found his and he lost himself to the sensation, a deep, desperate moan of need escaping his lips only to be captured by her mouth.

As Buffy rubbed herself against his now-obvious erection the last shred of control left him. “Bedroom, now,” he hissed. Launching his own attack, he scooped his assailant up into his arms and carried her up the stairs, kissing and nibbling eagerly at her mouth along the way, her moans and sighs of pleasure filling him increasingly with love and longing.

Upon reaching the bedroom he growled playfully and threw her, giggling, onto the bed. Spike launched himself to land next to her, before reaching out with one arm and scooping her close against his body. They continued their playful grappling for a while, alternately kissing and tickling, their hands exploring as they teasingly fought for control. Buffy finally had her foe pinned beneath her. She straddled his thighs, with his wrists held tightly in one strong little hand and his arms stretched above his head as she used the other to run enthusiastically across his body. Wrenching his t-shirt out from the waist of his jeans she gained access to the smooth, hard, rippling planes of his belly. His hiss of indrawn breath encouraging her in her explorations as she gently circled, tracing each line teasingly with fingertips and nails.

Leaning down she captured his hungry mouth, gently at first, lips brushing his, her tongue reaching out to run slowly along his deliciously soft lower lip. As his lips parted in an agonised moan of desire, she delved deeper, their tongues entwining, caressing and dancing slowly to a timeless tune. She released his hands and slid down to lay along his body. His hands instantly moved to lay claim to her body, stroking and teasing her as she had done only moments before to him. His agile hands quickly divested her of her blouse. Sliding one hand behind her back he made short work of her bra clasp, while the other continued its downwards explorations over the firm curve of her ass.

They continued to unhurriedly disrobe each other as they kissed and stroked each newly-revealed expanse of skin; worshiping as they went, with both touch and words, until both lay naked in each other‘s arms. Spike flipped them over, her legs parting to allow him to settle comfortably between them, his cock brushing gently against her warm, moist entrance. He captured her eyes with his, all sign of playfulness gone from their smouldering blue depths; his voice was thick with desire as he poured all his love and need into one questioning word, “Buffy?”

Her voice deserted her as emotion swelled and threatened to overcome her. The sight of his beautiful face, so completely open to her, his feelings clearly written for her to see was more than she knew how to deal with. She reached up with one hand to gently cup his face. Stroking it softly while gazing into his eyes, she tried to convey to him the depth of feelings he was evoking in her. With her voice deserting her she answered his question the only way she could; hooking her leg behind him and gently pulling him closer to her body. He sank slowly into her and a soft sigh escaped them both as the sensation all but overwhelmed them.

*****

Spike woke the next morning, feeling warm and languid. Slowly coming to his senses he realised his body was covered in exquisitely warm slayer, draped over him where they had finally collapsed only hours before. His hands began a slow sensuous dance across her back, delighting in her body’s response to his ministrations. With a satisfied smirk he stepped the pace up a little; one hand sliding between them to gently stroke and pinch one pebbled nipple while the other traced the smooth contours of her back before dipping down between firm cheeks. He gently dipped one finger into her entrance while another lightly massaged her clit.

Buffy woke with a gasp, her eyes wide. She had been having an incredible dream, Spike’s skilful hands had been tracing across her body, bringing an intense pleasure that only he had ever shown her. The dream now melted swiftly into reality and she arched into his hand, pressing him deeper into her. She lifted her head, desperately seeking his mouth—her lips aching for his.

As their need intensified, Spike replaced his fingers with his desperate cock and as she sank down on him, guiding him deep into her blazing heat he sobbed her name. As her lips found his in gentle, reassuring kisses he finally allowed himself to believe that this was real. Her orgasm screamed through her body and her strong internal muscles clamped down on him, destroying his last remaining shred of control. As he thrust up hard once more to meet her, their world fell out from beneath them, their arms flailing as they found themselves plummeting sideways toward the floor. They landed with a thud, and were quickly engulfed as the bedding followed them, leaving the pair a tangled mess of limbs and sheets thrashing inelegantly on the floor.

“Bloody hell!” Spikes outrage was followed rapidly by a snort of amusement. “Shit, Slayer, I think we killed the bed.”

Buffy couldn’t contain the giggles that erupted, tears of laughter pouring down her face until she realised what this meant. Her laughter died and her eyes widened in horror, “Oh no! Spike. It’s Giles’ bed. What are we gonna do?”

After untangling himself from the sheets and pillows strewn across the floor the vampire gathered his distressed lover in his arms. “’s ok love. We can fix this. Come on, pet, give me a hand.” He pulled her to her feet and they quickly cleared away the linen, giving themselves room to work. He directed her to lift the bed and as she did so he carefully replaced the turned timber leg, fitting it in such a way that without close scrutiny the break would not be visible. Buffy gently lowered the weight back down and they watched as it wobbled fractionally then held. They each breathed a deep a sigh of relief before looking at each other and bursting once more into a fit of laughter.

The sun would rise in an hour, so they quickly dressed and Buffy located the linen closet. Taking out clean sheets, they carefully remade the bed, taking care not to bump or jolt it as it balanced precariously on its wounded leg. Buffy took the soiled bedclothes and placed them in the machine to wash, making a mental note to come back later that day, dry them and put them away in the closet.

With a last quick check over to assure themselves the place was, apart from the bed, as they had found it, they made their way out onto the rapidly lightening street. Spike walked Buffy home to her mother’s house and after kissing her goodnight with a promise to see her that night he headed towards his crypt; racing the sunrise home.

tbc