Mastery
by ComedyofErrors
Chapter 10
Spike had been awake for hours before Buffy opened her eyes. Ever since he'd felt that sudden pain that told him his Sire was no more. He didn't move, didn't scream, didn't look for something to be killed. Nothing to be done, after all. Dru was already gone. His dark princess would never be seen again on this earth. It was a strange feeling, the loss of his Sire. She'd been his everything for one hundred and twenty odd years. And at the same time, she'd never been his.
She felt for him as Sire to Childe, not as her love. Oh certainly, love was involved, but not the kind she felt for her beloved Daddy. Spike had been jealous when he first realized that as a fledgling. Had been jealous when she turned away from him when Angelus returned, after so many years of faithfulness. But he found that now, when she was dust and memory, he didn't begrudge her the love she had not shown him. It was hers to place where she would; if he hadn't been smart enough to see that, it was his own fault. He wouldn't have left her anyway; she needed him.
Poor Dru. What were her last thoughts? Was she lonely? He hoped not. Lonely was a horrible way to die. It was how he'd died. Maybe she didn't even know she was dead. Maybe the Watcher, had to be him or one of Buffy's mates, caught her by surprise, and she was sitting in a field somewhere in the netherworld, picking daisies with Miss Edith. He didn't believe she'd go to hell; half the time she didn't know what she was doing, just followed her vampiric instincts or listened to Daddy. She wouldn't be punished for crimes she had no conception of.
He wandered for a while amidst memories of Dru, smiling and laughing. Her giggles were something he had always delighted in. He would never hear them again. That thought forced a few tears out from behind his eyes. He didn't mind. Dru was worth them. She had been the last of his family. Angelus certainly didn't count anymore. Spike had broken with him and his other childer, wherever they were around the globe. He wished idly that he could have saved Dru, but she would never have come with him. And she would have been a danger to Buffy, who was his childe.
She was his family now.
Buffy. He looked at the slight form still cradled in his arms. She looked so peaceful and fragile. Breathing in an unnecessary rhythm. He realized for the first time that she was warm. Not hot like a human, but she was giving off just enough body heat to raise the temperature of the blankets, and of his skin where they touched. She hadn't tossed or whimpered once he joined her on the bed, something of which he was very glad. He had feared nightmares would start to plague her right off. The marks on her skin, Angelus's A's, were fading. No more than jagged darker lines against her tan skin now. The emotional scars...well that was anyone's guess.
She was so young. Just a bit over seventeen. The younger they were, the more resilient, that was certain. She had been, or hell, maybe still was a slayer. Just what was the qualification for that? Anyway, that gave her strength. Add to that the fact that she was now a vampire, and made of much sterner stuff than she could yet realize, and you had a girl who would heal completely, given time. Spike, having spent the last century caring for an insane woman, would be more than capable of helping her recover.
He needed to be careful with her for these first few days. She couldn't be allowed to isolate herself, or shy away from the necessities of vampire life. Much as he believed in his power to continue on in this world, Spike knew that it was always a possibility that he would precede her into a final death. She needed to be well adjusted and independent in case of that eventuality. There was so much to teach her.
He also had to find out what view of vampire life Angelus had given her and discourage it. He would have twisted it to meet his own needs in breaking her. He would have programmed her to certain scenarios, giving her a set response that would allow her to avoid punishment. Spike wanted to avoid triggering those at first, give her time to acclimate to her new situation.
He spent the remainder of his time before her awakening searching for the perfect greeting. Something innocent, and innocuous, but something that would give him a read on her mood. 'How do you feel?' Yes, that was the simplest thing he could formulate. He had asked after she opened those beautiful amber eyes, and smiled at him. She promptly burst into tears.
Proof that successfully escaping Angelus was a fluke in his unending stream of bad plans. Shit.
Buffy couldn't help it. She knew he was confused, and that crying when she woke up in bed next to him probably wasn't helping. It was just that she felt hungry. She knew that in this house in meant something different than it had at the Mansion but the memory was so strong and so overwhelming that the sobs came on their own. Angelus wasn't even here, but his torment lingered. She flashed to other memories of her captivity, and continued to weep. It just wasn't fair.
He was at a loss as to what was wrong. She wasn't trying to get away from him; if anything she was holding on more tightly than before. When she woke her hands had been resting on his biceps, and her cheek was laid against his collar. She had paused for a moment when she heard the question, then her eyes dilated and in an instant her arms clutched him around the neck, and her head was buried between them against his chest. He held her tight, but it was hard to give comfort from this position, when he could barely see her.
He didn't want to push her away to change position, so he held firmly to her torso and rolled onto his back. He sat up gently, with her across his lap. His legs protested the angle, but he pushed himself back so that he could recline against the iron headboard. Buffy's crying showed no evidence of slowing, and her knees were pressing against tender parts of his anatomy that were just beginning to get the feeling back. He lifted her enough to maneuver her legs to one side, so that she was sitting on his lap.
Bewildered as he was, he knew one thing about women and tears: it was best to let her cry. She'd been through hell, it was her right. He put an arm around her shoulders, pushing her chest against his. He began to rock her, slowly, back and forth. She didn't resist, just hung so tightly to him that he felt as though they were joined at the skin. Rocking. Rocking and humming. That's what his mother did when he was a little boy, scared, or sick, or lonely. He began to hum, tunelessly at first, since he didn't know very many comforting songs. Soon he realized he was humming an old favorite of his mother's, the one she'd used for him.
Buffy absorbed the comfort gratefully. She needed it as much as she needed blood. It seeped from her Sire into her, his touch helping to reassure her. The memories stayed in her mind, but the intensity lessened. Her crying slowed, and her gasping breaths quieted. She realized she had a chokehold around Spike's neck, so she relaxed her hands, and they wandered down beneath his arms, then linked behind him in a loose hug. She moved her head to rest against his shoulder, and sniffled slightly.
Spike felt some of the tension leave her, and stopped his rocking at the behest of his lower back. Those muscles hadn't had this much use in a while. He rubbed her back soothingly, and gave her a few minutes to rest. She seemed almost to doze, as though the sudden effort had tired her, despite her long sleep. He adjusted her position, so that he was supporting her back against one arm. Her face inclined against the upper part of his arm, and her eyes were closed.
He wanted to wait until she spoke, of looked at him, but he couldn't. He wasn't known for his patience, but he was truly becoming concerned. "Buffy? Luv, are you alright?" She opened her eyes, and stared up at him. She looked peaceful. "Are you hurt, pet?"
Buffy smiled. He looked so lost, and worried about her. She nuzzled against his shoulder. "No. Just being emotional Buffy." He was rubbing her arm in a faint circular motion. It felt nice.
"Did I do something wrong?" He hoped he hadn't bollocksed up his first day as her Sire.
Buffy shook her head quickly. "No you just asked me how I felt." She swallowed. "And I felt hungry."
He tilted his head to one side and stared at her. "There's nothing wrong with that pet." She shifted a little and looked away. Oh. "But I bet Angelus made you pay for what he gave you, didn't he?" She nodded and continued to avoid his eyes, obviously embarrassed.
He wasn't going to tolerate that. "Buffy, look at me." He waited until he had her attention. He reached the hand that had been on her arm up, and curled it around the side of her face. "Nothing that happened in there was your fault. You don't need to be ashamed off it."
Buffy stared at him pleadingly. "I just went along with it. I stopped trying to fight. I - "
"No. Angelus had tortured people for centuries. He's got it down to an art. You picked your battles. That's a slayer tactic, pet. Remember the first rule of slaying?"
"Stay alive."
"There you are."
Buffy toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. "Master, did Angelus - "
Spike started, and his eyes clouded slightly. He spoke gently, "I'm not your master Buffy. You're not my servant. You can call me Spike; if that makes you uncomfortable, you can call me Sire."
"I like that best."
"Okay. What were you saying?"
It was harder to ask than she expected. And she knew the answer, but she had a feeling that hearing him say it would help. If Spike had gotten over it, she probably could. "Did Angelus... do to you the kind of things he did to me?"
Spike sighed. "Yes luv. But not all at once. You have to understand that the Angelus that's here now isn't quite the same one I knew, before the soul. This one's a bit barmy; probably all those years of being forced into knowing his conscience."
Buffy frowned. "A soul's not a conscience?"
"Oh, no, a soul's just the thing that holds the different pieces of you all together; makes you acknowledge the conscience. Without a soul, you can just ignore it and listen to the demon instead." Buffy was still frowning. "What's wrong now?"
"I feel kind of dumb. Do all vampires know this stuff? The Watcher's Council never said anything like that."
Spike snorted. "What the Wanker's Council doesn't tell their slayers doesn't make the slayers question the morals of goin' out and stakin' every demon that comes by. And don't feel dumb. Don't ever say that about yourself. My childe is not dumb." Buffy giggled. "You're not yet a week old. I've been a vampire for 116 years, 've had time to learn this stuff. You didn't have a decent sire right off, but you do now. There's so much I'm going to show you."
Buffy thought he sounded proud. He really did enjoy the idea of being the one to open her eyes to her knew status. And she was anxious to learn. She could sense the sun, she could smell him in a crowd, and she could hear butterflies outside their windows. That was only the beginning. She could feel power in her, from sources as yet unknown. But she didn't think she could learn on an empty stomach; she never had before. "Can we start with the education of Buffy Summers after breakfast?"
Spike laughed. It was a nice clear, friendly laugh, and it warmed her further. "I suppose we can arrange that. Can you reach my neck?" She nodded. "You remember how to do it?" She nodded again. "Go ahead then." He tilted his head back for easier access.
Buffy sat up and put an arm on his opposite shoulder to steady herself. She pressed her lips against his neck, feeling for the vein. He really did smell nice. She delayed inserting her fangs for a few moments to feel his soft skin on her lips. She bit down gently, hoping that she didn't hurt him. His blood was sweet, and strong. Sire's blood, her demon said. She drank savoring the taste. She felt a little shiver run through her; she was kinda getting turned on drinking from him. She hadn't from Angelus. She liked this feeling.
Spike held himself still. He tried desperately not to focus on what she was doing. But it was undeniably erotic. She took such dainty sips, like he was some rare dish she was thoroughly enjoying. He was getting aroused, and felt his blood descending. He was shocked to realize that if she kept this up, he was going to end up hard. He hadn't had release since the accident. And fuck, how long had it been since he actually had sex? Dru'd been too ill for almost seven months beforehand to be of assistance, and he wasn't about to cheat.
He wanted Buffy. She had appealed to him since that first night, when he watched her dance. A little young for his tastes, and a slayer; otherwise he'd have been tempted to get her alone. And he had her alone, right now. Oh, fuck, this wasn't a good line of thought. He control, and Buffy didn't need him coming on to her now, especially considering how Angelus had abused mealtime with her.
Spike restrained himself as much as he could, thinking about Angelus screwing Darla, about Angelus and Dru, about Angelus and ... Buffy. That one did the trick. It gave him back the control he needed, though the scent of her own arousal threatened to drive it away again when it reached his nose. He was so distracted trying to keep his reactions under control that he forgot about telling her when to stop.
Buffy continued to pull on his blood, taking deeper sips when he didn't stop her. She was almost full when she realized that he wasn't completely with her. His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. He looked even more pale than normal. "S-sire?"
Spike jumped awake, his head dizzy from the loss of blood. His childe was panicking. He patted her shoulder. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. We'll just go down and I'll get some brekky myself. Plenty of pig's blood from the butcher."
"You're not hunting?"
"Too dangerous. Angelus might see us out and about. Can't have him finding us until we're strong enough to fight back. And I need to introduce you to the others."
"Oh." Buffy looked down at herself, and realized for the first time that she was only wearing a robe. "I don't have any clothes. And I'm clean." Her brow furrowed.
"Alexa and I cleaned you up last night. I had her look into some before we brought you here. She said she put some things in the dresser for you. You go grab some. The bathroom's in there," he gestured to a door on the far wall of the bedroom, "so you change and we'll head down."
He'd seen her naked. That was the only thing she processed immediately. Huh. She grabbed some clothes, pretty close to her size, some brown jeans and a pink top. Alexa was kind enough to include panties and bras, which she hid in with her other clothing. She marched over to the bathroom, set her clothes down, and looked in the mirror. There was nothing there. She shrieked, and in an instant Spike was beside her.
Spike hugged her, and turned her back to the mirror. "Easy luv. I'm sorry Buffy. Stupid of me not to think about it."
"It just feels wrong," she whimpered against his skin, "not seeing me. Like I'm not here. And what if I look ugly? I won't know how to fix it."
Spike grinned, but didn't laugh. This was serious to her; it was serious to every new vampire. "You could never look ugly love. Mirrors still bother me sometimes. It'll get easier."
Buffy sniffled again, ashamed to feel the tears starting for the second time this morning. "Don't I look ugly now?" She gestured to her ridges and fangs. "I don't even know how to get rid of them."
"Buffy look up here." She did. He was in game face, staring down at her. She'd never noticed how expressive a face with ridges could be. He looked kind and patient, even with his demon out. He really was rather attractive as a demon. "Beauty is relative. For a human, a face like this isn't something to be proud of. But you're dealing with vampire standards now. And you are the most lovely vampire I've ever seen." He willed her to see the sincerity.
"Really?" He called her lovely.
He nodded. "Mm-hmm. Now watch me pet. Think about what you look like as a human. Reach into your memory, and picture yourself without your lumpies." His game face receded slowly.
Buffy did as instructed, and felt her face shifting. She reached up and felt her former smooth forehead and nose. She ran her tongue along the bottom of her incisors. Yep, no fangs. "Thank you Spike."
He smiled into those sweet green eyes. "You're welcome Buffy." He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.
"Hey. How come we don't lisp in game face? Angelus does."
"'Cause Angelus never could get anything right. I'll bet you a fiver he can't even program a digital watch."
She laughed. "No, he can't! I asked him to set the time on mine once while I was digging for something in my purse, and he didn't know how!"
Spike smirked. "See? Now get dressed pet. My tummy's gurglin'."
________________________
Angelus stared at the ashes around his bed. His childe, all but six of the minions he'd left behind, and every drapery in the dining room destroyed. Drusilla gone. Now he'd be stuck with fucking his food. And his food certainly didn't have her experience. And her prophecies and visions weren't his to see anymore, either. That meant finding Spike was going to be a hell of a lot harder.
Damn Watcher. Should have killed him along with that teacher he was trying to lay. He'd figured she was the more dangerous one at the time. And now he had two burnt out layers courtesy of Ripper.
Someone was going to pay for these insults.
*****
Thanks to the readers and reviewers for sticking with me!
Best wishes to all our brothers and sisters in England. God be with you in these trying times.
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