“Whose nightmare is this?” Xander queried as he looked around the darkened graveyard. It certainly didn’t seem that bad; it was nothing compared to killer clowns or being naked, anyway. He brought his attention back to his companions, prepared to make a quip about how this was just another day in Sunnydale for the Scooby gang. With a start, he noticed the look of shocked resignation on the normally stoic librarian’s face; Giles was paused statue-still, staring intently at a gravestone. Xander moved closer to look at what could possibly have caused the blood to drain so completely from the older man’s face.
 
“It’s mine.” Giles’s voice echoed with the loss of hope as he knelt reverently next to the marker. His movement affording the others their first clear view of the inscription thereon: Buffy Summers 1981 - 1997.

“I've failed... in my duty to protect you. I should have been more c... cautious. Taken more time to train you. But you were so gifted. And the evil was so great. I'm sorry...”

A sinister laugh broke through the blanket of grief that had descended upon the trio by the graveside. “Well, well… What have we here?” The black-clad bleached blonde flowed out of the shadows, every movement graceful and predatory; waves of fear travelled before him, waiting to absorb those caught in their wake.

“Heard this town is home to the Slayer. Now, I don’t sense her ‘round here anywhere, but I sure as hell know a Council wanker when I see one. So what’s it to be—you tell me where I can find the Slayer and I kill you real quick? Or…” A deep throaty chuckle completely absent of humour, and dripping with menace sounded before the newcomer continued, his voice low and dangerous, “Better still, you don’t tell me where she is… And I get to kill you, really slowly.”

“Oh, my dear lord. Run, now.” Giles faced the vampire, fingers searching his pockets frantically for the stake that he knew he would not find there. He only hoped he could buy enough time for the children to get safely away.

Giles swallowed hard against the lump in his throat; this is what he had trained for. It was just a vampire—just a vampire. The creature stalked towards him, long black coat flowing behind him, piercing blue eyes promising pain and death. It was at that moment that Giles realised that the vampire still bore its human features. The realisation made his blood run colder than it had before; only vampires of incredible strength and power were able to hold their human features firmly in place even while hunting.

“You’re too late—if you’re looking for the Slayer, that is.”

“Oh? An’ why’s that then?”

“Well, because she’s… well, she’s there.” Giles pointed to the grave he had been kneeling at only moments before.

“’s that so? Well then, I guess she won’t be missin’ her watcher, will she?”

Faster than the vampire’s words could register in his brain, Giles found himself held in a vice-like grip. He heard the bones in the vampire’s face shift and then the sharp stinging pain as its fangs sank into his neck. Struggle as he might, he was unable to break the vampire’s grip, and felt himself growing weaker by the moment as his blood was drawn from him in strong, vicious pulls.  

The sound of earth being displaced drew the vampire’s attentions from his meal; dropping the watcher to the ground, he spun around in time to see a shapely hand emerge from the freshly turned soil. Amber eyes searched the graveyard for signs of the others of his kind. Where was this childe’s sire? If what the watcher had told him was true, the fledgling fighting to emerge from the depths was none other than the Slayer herself. Who would sire such a childe and not be here to welcome her into their dark world?

His features slipped back into the smooth planes and chiselled good looks of his human visage as he moved to kneel by the graveside, and he watched as the newly-turned vampire below the surface heaved her way out and into the night.

“Well, hello, cutie.” He reached a hand out to help her from her grave.

She stepped from the grave and, releasing his hand, dusted the dirt from her clothes and hair.

Satisfied that she was at least as presentable as you can be after just crawling out from beneath six feet of dirt, she narrowed her gaze at the blonde stranger. “Who are you?”

“M’ names, Spike, love. You?” Burning blue eyes took in her lithe form, beginning at her face and trailing slowly down her body, sliding back up again to meet with her luminous amber ones.

Buffy’s eyes travelled equally slowly over his body, finishing at his face. Wow, big chunk of salty goodness; I thought this was supposed to be nightmare day, not dreams come true day. She forced herself from her deliberations and back to his question. “Buffy.”

“What was that?” He smirked, his eyes lighting with mirth and mischief.

“I said, Buffy. That’s my name.” She huffed at his obvious amusement. Ok, cute and sexy, but also, annoying!

“Right then, pet. Buffy it is.” He managed, barely, to keep the laughter out of his voice. His head tilted and his left eyebrow raised slightly as he surveyed her once more. Buffy noted with interest that he had a rather sexy scar running through that particular eyebrow, and wondered briefly what it would be like to nibble along it.

“You feelin’ hungry by any chance, kitten?”

Once the words were spoken she realised that she was indeed hungry; beyond hungry, in fact. Her mouth watered as a delectable scent filled her nostrils.

“Yeah, starving…What’s on offer?” Buffy looked at him as though he might suddenly start sprouting prime ribs or jelly donuts.

“Well, by all rights, pet, should be sire’s blood for you. But seein’ as your sire hasn’t bothered to show… How’s about a little priggish watcher to tide you over for a bit; ‘least till we find you something better, that is.” Spike gently took her arm and turned to lead her over to where he had dropped the watcher on the grass. He pulled up short when she didn’t move to follow him. He turned back around and to his astonishment she was running her hands over her face and keening quietly.

“’s wrong, pet?” For the world, he could not work out what had her so upset. He stepped forward to wrap a comforting arm around her slim shoulders. “Easy, love. What could possibly be so bad to have you in such a state?”

At his urging, she finally removed her hands from her face to reveal once more her beautiful amber eyes and the distinctive brow-ridges of her demon face. “Look at me, I’m ugly. And, oh God, I’m a vampire. You need to get out of here. Get away from me.” She made to cover her face once more but was prevented from doing so as the gorgeous blonde grabbed her wrists, his grip surprisingly strong.

“For starters,” he leaned down and forced her to look him in the eye, “you are not ugly. You're bloody beautiful. And secondly, pet, I have no need to get away from you.” With that, he allowed his vampiric features to surge forth. Her sharp hiss of indrawn breath and automatic shift out of his hands and into fighting stance took him by surprise; her spinning kick to his jaw sent him flying backwards.

“Bloody hell, woman. What was that for?” He rubbed his jaw; bint had a damned good kick on her.

“I… You’re a vampire!”

“Yeah! An’ so are you. What of it?”

“But, I… How, I mean…”

“What do you mean? Cause you’re not makin’ a lot of sense, love. You must remember being turned…who your sire is?”

“No. That’s just it. I wasn’t. I mean I’m not. I can’t be.” Buffy drew a deep, no longer necessary, breath. “This morning, I was in school. And then—things—started happening. Odd things, like spiders, and this boy and a big ugly man—that’s what the boy called him, ‘the ugly man.’ Then we were running away, and we climbed through a hedge and wound up here, but it was suddenly dark. And then the Master came. He grabbed me and threw me in the grave, and buried me. But there was no with the bitey, and, and… This just can’t be happening. And oh God, am I hungry.”

Spike chuckled. “That’s ‘cause you are yet to feed. Like I said before, by rights your sire shoulda been here when you rose. But, seein’ as he’s not… ‘An that you say you don’t even have a sire…” he raised his hands in the air in a sign of truce and walked slowly back to where the slayer/vampire stood uncertainly. “C’mere, love. S’alright, let me take care of you.” He reached out and gently stroked her cheek, sliding his hand upwards, fingers spread to tangle gently into the honey waves of her hair. With his thumb he firmly but tenderly rubbed her brow ridges before stepping closer, his hand leaving her face to cup the back of her head and guide her gently to his neck.

Spike hissed as the Slayer’s fangs slid into his throat, pulling deeply on the strong blood of her surrogate sire. He allowed her to feed longer than a sire would normally allow; his dick throbbing harder in his jeans at each consecutive draw his ‘childe’ made. The sensation was intoxicating, and it was with great reluctance that he finally pushed her away. “That’s enough for now, love.”

When Buffy refused to stop, a low warning growl issued from him, quickly quelling any further rebellious thought the new vampire may have had. She ducked her face in apology and burrowed in against his chest; everything was just happening so fast. She was scared, she was a vampire and she was alone. Her friends could be anywhere. But as his arms tightened around her, she realised she was wrong about one thing: she was not alone.

Spike lifted her face until she looked him in the eye, her softer human features and brightly shining green eyes in place now that hunger no longer drove her demon forward.
“Right. Now I’m just gonna finish up with my meal an’ then we need to think about somewhere to stay.”

Spike strode over to where the watcher had fallen, but as he cast his eyes around, he saw no sign of his misplaced meal. “Damn.” He scented the air, the sweet aroma of fresh blood led away and out of the cemetery grounds. “Looks like dinner's buggered off,” he muttered. With a frustrated growl, he turned back to the girl he had come to Sunnydale to kill, and whom he had now claimed as his childe. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s see if we can find some decent digs for the night.”

tbc