A soft snore from the shadows reminded them of their quest. When Buffy turned to move towards the sound Spike seized her arms, pulling her back for a last searing kiss before releasing her to her hunt. “We’ll continue this later, kitten,” he promised. His eyes devoured her as she moved further into the gloom towards her prey and, after fishing around for a moment in his pockets, he lit a smoke and settled himself half-seated on an unbroken crate to watch his childe in action.

Buffy cocked her head, watching intently as the man slept on, oblivious to her presence. The stench of alcohol, garbage and urine saturated the air, but above it all was the alluring scent of blood; warm, living, pumping blood that beckoned her. She circled around him indecisively. The gnawing hunger within screamed at her to kill, to feast; and yet she hesitated.

The man’s eyes opened suddenly, widening with fright as he took in the terrifying countenance of the girl before him. Scrambling to his feet, he backed against the wall. “Please. Please don’t kill me,” he pleaded. Tears brimmed in his red-rimmed eyes as he begged for his life, uncertain if this monster was real or simply another visitation by one of the alcohol-induced apparitions that plagued him regularly.

Buffy relaxed, allowing her face to melt back to its human features. “It’s ok,” she soothed, backing away a few steps. “I won’t hurt you.”

The vagrant nodded and, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the vampire, slid backwards along the wall several paces before turning and fleeing.

“Wanna explain to me what just happened there, pet?” Spike asked as he quietly stepped up behind his childe.

Buffy turned to face him, her lip trembling as she looked up at his face. “I... I don’t know. I’m sorry, Spike. I just couldn’t.” She took a deep breath, calming herself and allowing her time to gather her thoughts before continuing, “I know that I’m a vampire. I know it. And I feel it. And a part of me was so hungry that all I wanted was to kill that man and feed. But another part of me, the part that’s still the Slayer, couldn’t. I don’t know if I can make you understand, Spike. I’m the Slayer. It doesn’t matter that I’m a vampire too. It’s my job to protect people, not to kill them.”

What she’d told him was the truth; she understood that now. Even if it meant her own starvation, she could not kill a human. She knew he would be disappointed, maybe even angry; the thought of losing him over this terrified her, but she couldn’t change who she was. And if that meant that she was to live out the rest of her existence—or whatever existence a vampire who refused to feed was granted—alone, then so be it.

“I know you’re angry, and…”

“Do you?” Spike interrupted.

“I…?” Buffy began, confusion creasing her brow as she looked at him. His usually expressive face was blank, giving her no indication as to where she stood.

Spike reached out, cupping her face gently. “I’m not angry. ‘m not saying it makes a hell of a lot of sense to me. But if you say you can’t, then you can’t. Not a lot of point in me bein’ angry about it, is there?” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “An’ I’m guessing that what you’re feeling might explain why I’ve never heard of a turned Slayer before. The fact is, love, that you need to feed. And so do I for that matter. ‘m figuring your little bout of conscience extends to me too?” he asked, a gentle smile curving the corners of his lips as he tilted his head in inquiry.

She smiled weakly, her lip quivering once more as her eyes filled with unshed tears; she knew what she was asking of him and was worried that he would feel she wasn’t worth it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he soothed, “it’s ok. ‘s nothing we can’t work out, pet. Now c’mere.” He drew her close, her body melting willingly against him as she eagerly accepted the comfort of her lover’s embrace.

“Come on, kitten, I’ve got an idea,” Spike told her, tilting her face up and kissing her lightly on the nose.

*****

Xander ran as fast as he could, dragging the shorter, slower boy behind him. They flew through the corridors, unmindful of where they were going; after countless twists and turns, Xander stopped for breath. Peering urgently in the direction from which they’d come and seeing no sign of pursuit, he relaxed a little and looked around, trying to gauge their whereabouts. After a quick scout of the adjoining rooms, he soon realised that he was completely and hopelessly lost, with no idea of how to get back to the watcher and Willow.

Giles would know what to do. Or Willow; she always came up with good plans. For the thousandth time in the last day, he found himself wishing that Buffy was there.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the distant sound of a door banging closed and he looked around in a panic. “Quick; we can hide in here,” he urged, tilting his head towards the seemingly empty room.

“We can’t hide,” his companion informed him. “He always finds me. It doesn’t matter where I hide.”

“Shh,” Xander cautioned, his voice rising in a petrified squeak. “He’d be a lot less likely to find us if you didn’t keep making with the talking.”

*****

Spike shouldered the heavily-loaded canvas bag and snagged the large red cooler he spotted as he made his way out the door. This should do for a few days at least, he mused, shaking his head in complete bafflement that he was stealing frozen blood when there were perfectly good warm bodies just walking around for the taking. Bloody chit better appreciate it, he grumbled quietly to himself as he made his way back down the sterile corridor towards the exit and his Slayer. As he approached the door to the hospital’s main foyer, a man approached from the opposite direction, clearly agitated as he hurried towards the heavily-laden vampire.

“Get out of my way,” the man groused, dropping his shoulder and attempting to shove Spike aside.

Lowering his burden slowly to the ground and continuing to block the path, Spike looked up at the much larger man. “What was that, mate?” he asked quietly, blue eyes blazing.

The man stared, disbelief written clearly on his features; speaking slowly and clearly, he repeated, “I said, get out of my way, runt.”

“See now, that was what I thought you said.” Spike’s hand snaked out, catching the larger man by the throat and squeezing slowly. “Can’t say as I like your type much, mate. Known a lot like you in my life, not met a one I liked. Bullies who think they’re better ‘n others. Cowards is what you are, the lot of you. And the way I figure it, the world won’t be missing you any time soon.”

As Spike’s hand closed tighter, the man’s eyes widened in horror, and he scrambled furiously at the smaller man’s arm in a vain attempt to free himself. The scent of fear heavy on the air and his prisoner’s futile efforts at escape momentarily entertained the vampire, his lip curled in a derisive sneer as he looked the larger man in the eye. “Well, I must say, it’s been fun, but I gotta go now. Don’t wanna keep my girl waiting.” With that, he closed his fist, crushing both the man’s windpipe and vertebrae before dropping him to lie gasping helplessly on the ground.

When he reached the outside a shape separated itself from the shadows and moved rapidly towards him. “Spike. You were gone forever; I was getting worried,” Buffy censured, her lip sneaking out into a pout.

“Well, you should’ve come in with me, shouldn’t you?” he countered, although given recent events, he was glad that Buffy had chosen to remain outside. Somehow he didn’t think killing a man just for being an arse would fit very comfortably into her idea of how things should be.

“Yeah, I know,” she admitted, ducking beneath his arm and snuggling close to him. “Hospitals just really give me the wiggins.”

“Well, come on love, let’s go home.” He set off in the direction of what he’d come to think of as their crypt. “I’ve got dinner here. And before you ask, no, I didn’t kill anyone for it,” he added, telling himself that technically he was speaking the truth.

*****

Entering the room cautiously, Xander cast a look around, searching for likely hiding spots. He pulled back the white curtain that hung suspended from the ceiling and stopped short as he looked down onto the face of the boy lying almost peacefully in the bed.

“What? How?” He looked back and forth between the boy on the bed and the one standing next to him.

An echo sounded from the corridor, signalling the approach of their unattractive friend, and the boy cringed away from the sound.

“It’s you,” Xander accused. “You’re the one doing this. You’re dreaming and making all this happen. Making that creature out there come after us. Turning one of my best friends into a vampire. Almost killing my... well, I don’t know what he is exactly, but you almost got him killed. You have to stop.”

“I… I can’t,” the boy replied nervously, one eye on his suddenly irate companion and the other on the door as he awaited the arrival of their lumbering pursuer. “He’ll kill me.”

“But you have to,” Xander whined, terror gripping him. His stomach felt like it was turning to water, and his heart was pounding so hard that he was sure it would be clearly heard from the hallway through the flimsy door that was currently their only means of protection. The sounds grew closer, and he turned once more to the young boy next to him. “You need to wake up. Don’t you understand? That thing, whatever it is, will kill us if you don’t!” He grasped the boy by the shoulders, shaking him roughly. “Please, man, you have to wake up.”

The boy whimpered, and Xander let go. “Oh, god. I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to do that. But please, you need to wake up.”

The door swung open, and their attacker shambled into the room. Grabbing the boy, Xander dragged him under the bed and into the back corner of the room, as far from the hulking creature as possible. Grasping the boy to him protectively and turning them so that the boy was somewhat sheltered by his body on one side and the wall on the other, Xander closed his eyes, unwilling to watch the monster deliver its killing blow. “You’ve gotta wake up. You’ve gotta wake up,” he mumbled over and over as he rocked himself and his companion.

*****

They stopped in at the 7-11 on the way back to their crypt, Spike quickly pulling a few packets of blood from the bag and popping them into the microwave. When the boy behind the counter came over to tell them that the microwave was for customer use only, Buffy slipped into her demon face, golden eyes flashing as she bared her fangs and the terrified boy ran screaming from the store, leaving them to enjoy their dinner in peace.

With their hunger satisfied, Spike took the time to load the remaining packets into the cooler, grabbing bags of ice from the freezer to pack the remaining space. He snatched up a few cartons of smokes from behind the counter and a fistful of the tartan travel rugs that were on display by the door and stuffed them into the now-empty bag before leading Buffy back into the night.

*****

“Willow, you need to help me.” Giles found himself reluctant to further involve the young girl, but could see no alternative. “I need to get back to the library. If I could consult my books, I may be able to establish what is causing this phenomenon.”

“But you’re hurt. And that vampire is still out there. And Buffy…” Willow’s voice trailed off; she couldn’t bring herself to complete the thought that her best friend was now a vampire and might very well be hunting for a nice little Scooby snack about now. Isn’t that what Giles had taught them, that newly-turned vampires usually go after their friends and family? A hand came to rest gently on her arm, and she turned to look into the haunted blue eyes of Buffy’s watcher.

“I know, Willow.” His voice was gentle and understanding as he continued, holding her gaze as he spoke. “It won’t be easy. And will most likely be dangerous, but we cannot let the world continue like this. I need for you to be brave. Our only chance to save the world, and with it hopefully Buffy, is to get to those books.”

Willow nodded silently, biting her bottom lip gently between her teeth as she steeled herself to do the watcher’s bidding.

*****

Buffy lay sated, curling happily into her lover’s side, her head pillowed comfortably on his chest as his hand stroked a gentle, soothing rhythm down her back. The soft rugs beneath them had made their ‘bed’ much more comfortable; as the unseen dawn approached, its pull towards sleep affected even those vampires holed up within the bounds of the permanently night-shrouded cemetery. Buffy yawned, snuggling her face closer into Spike’s chest, her hand gently caressing his stomach as her eyes drifted closed in contentment.

“Talk to me,” she requested sleepily.

“’Bout what, pet?”

“I don’t know, anything. Where you come from, or why you’re here?” she suggested, not really caring what he talked about, just wanting to listen to the warm soothing tones of his voice.

He started talking, hesitantly at first and then, at her interested encouragements, more animatedly. He told her about his travels, the things he had seen: the Eiffel Tower, Venice, Rome, New York. Moonlit strolls along the Champs-Élysées with his sire, Darla and Angelus, their nights culminating in fine feasts on exquisite French cuisine; of course, he neglected to mention of what said cuisine had consisted. He told her about Drusilla and, at her unconscious whimper, gathered her closer.

“Nothin’ for you to be worrying about, kitten,” he assured her. “Dru an’ I parted ways a while back.”

Buffy turned at the bitterness clearly evident in his voice, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. “What happened?” She stroked his cheek gently, leaning forward to place a soft kiss against his suddenly furrowed brow. She had no urge to cause him pain, but a part of her needed to know the answer to her question, if for no other reason than understanding the cause would better equip her to soothe his obvious hurt.

“Don’t rightly know,” he began quietly, a deep sigh escaping him as he allowed his thoughts to drift to the final argument he’d had with his sire. “Over a hundred years we’d been together. I always tried to take good care of her. She wasn’t always all there, you know. Angelus had done a right number on her before he turned her, thought it’d be fun to break her mind first, the bastard. But most of the time she was fine. This one night she just wakes up and tells me I wasn’t hers anymore. That I wasn’t her dark knight an’ that I needed to leave.”

He sat up, reaching down to snag a cigarette out of his duster pocket and lighting it before continuing, “I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t have it. Went bloody crazy on me, scratching and hissing, carryin’on like a bleedin’ banshee. Told me I had to leave or I would kill us both. There was never any reasoning with her when she was like that, so I did what she wanted and I left. Figured I’d go back in a couple of days an’ sort everything out. Only she still wouldn’t listen, told me I had to leave and not to come back. Said that I wasn’t a bad dog anymore or some such rot. Next thing I knew I was on my own. Ungrateful bitch’d packed up the minions and left me on my lonesome down in South America. I made my way up here to kill me my next Slayer and prove her wrong, only I get here with the world goin’ crazy, and instead of the Slayer I came here to kill, I find you.” He flicked away the spent cigarette and lay back down, pulling his childe into his arms.

Buffy thought about the things he’d said. The thought of Drusilla leaving him twisted in her gut like a knife. She couldn’t imagine not having him here with her, and she realised how painful it must be for him without his sire. She realised then that if Drusilla could do that, could throw her real childe out like that after a hundred years of devotion, that Spike might quickly tire of her. After all he wasn’t really her sire and had no responsibility or reason to take care of her. Especially considering how difficult she was being and what she was asking of him.

“Spike? You won’t leave me, will you?” she asked in a small, grief-stricken voice. Her eyes brimmed and her lip trembled as a surge of misery engulfed her at the thought of losing him.

He gathered her closer, kissing her tenderly before responding; as he spoke the words, he realised just how much he meant them. “Never, love. Would never leave you, kitten. I’ve been searching for you all my life, Buffy; not gonna lose you now.” He still missed Dru, probably always would, but this tiny girl in his arms had, in such a short period of time, become his world; he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

tbc