Bloodying It Up
by Kari Mouke


Chapter 1


            Money was good.  There was nothing wrong with money.  She poked a pustule and brought her finger back covered in goo.  Just think about the slate covered shower walls.  The cool blue of the lap pool – the one that always reminded her of the color of a certain vampire’s eyes.  She poked another pustule.  Ick.  Ick.  Ick.  How many were left?  The client had said something about a number.  A mystical number of pustule pokes.  What was it?  Poke.  Ick.  Giles had always been the mystical man.  Sigh.  Poke.  She missed Giles.  Poke.  Poke.  Ick!

            She watched in relief as the lumpy demon slowly began to dissolve.  She must have finally hit the mystical jackpot.  The thing became a puddle of goo.  Still ick, but no more poking.  She looked around for something to wipe her hand off on.  Nothing.  Damn.  She was in the middle of freakin’ nowhere.  She took off her backpack and pulled out a large container – the one that had supplanted any other items such as handi-wipes.  She unscrewed the lid and scooped up as much of the goo as she could.  Then she screwed the lid back down nice and tight and put it back in the pack.  She wiped her hands off on her black jeans and began the three mile hike out of the ravine back to her Jeep.

            She got into the car and immediately reached into the glove compartment for some handi-wipes.  Once her hands were freshly goo free, she started the car and headed toward the main highway.  It was nearly a four hour drive back to San Diego and her lovely condominium high in the sky of the golden state.  She popped in Sea Change by Beck and settled in for some heavy listening.  She didn’t know why she did this to herself; these long drives with emotive tunes that steered her heart and soul in directions best left untaken. 

            It’s not that she didn’t have a good life.  She had a great life.  It was a lonely life, however, and the loneliness was what got to her on nights such as this.  The ones where the job was done, victory in hand--or backpack--and there was no one to celebrate with.  Xander had married Anya.  They had kids and a business.  Giles had died in battle.  Willow had committed suicide after almost ending the world.  Her mother had a nice, natural death.  And her sister?  She’d been sacrificed on a tower.  It was strange.  At Dawn’s death the real memories came back and yet the fake memories were still there.  Strange.  Strangely.  Stranger.  That was her.  Stranger.

            So now she lived alone.  The occasional Christmas card was all she had of Xander and Anya.  She was the one who kept it that way.  They didn’t need the violence of her life touching them.  She wasn’t the Slayer anymore.  That title had been passed on by Faith.  Then from her on to two others.  At least she thought it was only two.  She wasn’t always up on the Chosen One situation, though in her line of work the news worked its way down the demon grapevine sooner or later.  She was a killer.  A hired assassin.  Generally she only did demons.  But she’d learned over the years that some humans were far more evil than demons.  It had been a human that had been responsible for Giles’ death  Maggie Walsh. That bitch had been the first human that Buffy ever killed.

            Things changed from there.  She changed.  A little harder.  A little more reliant on her Slayer side.  No, that wasn’t right.  It was more like the Buffy her and the Slayer her had merged.  A meeting of the minds.  She caught a glimpse of her eyes in the rearview mirror.  And bodies.  A meeting of minds and bodies.  She hadn’t aged a day and she knew it.  She got a feeling the 25 cut off meant a hell of a lot more than the Council ever let on.  Now, if she could only get her heart on board with her mind and body, she’d be complete.   She let out a big sigh. As if.

            Hours later, package delivered, she coasted into the city, loving the way the lights played on the water.  She pulled into the underground parking garage of her ridiculously expensive condo and was reminded once again of how much she enjoyed getting paid.  She hopped out of her Jeep and swung her now empty backpack over her shoulders.  She wanted two things and two things only at this moment:  to be clean and to be satisfied.  Not having a man, she’d have to be satisfied with her not so little, battery operated friend.  Yes, it was a friend.  She’d named it and everything.

            She took the elevator up to the fourteenth floor.  They weren’t kidding anyone by skipping the ‘13’ and perversely it was why Buffy chose it.  Luck.  Hell, who had time to believe in luck?  If bad luck wanted a go out her, she was more than ready to take him on.  She leaned her head against the back of the elevator wall, waiting for her stop.  No one was on it but her at this time of night.  Her neighbors were all well off business people who had nothing to do with her whatsoever.  She thought that a few of them had actually figured out exactly what it was she did.  Oh, not the demon part – just the killing part.  They all seemed a little frightened of her.  She found it amusing as hell.  The doors opened and she walked out.  There were only four units on this floor.  She walked down and punched her code in the door.  It swung open and she walked in.

            Home sweet home.  And it was sweet, too.  It had open ducts and steel beams that gave it an urban ‘loft’ feel.  The floors were a lovely, red-stained concrete.  The color of old blood. The walls were all painted a dark grey.  Her furniture was a mix of modern and old comfort.  She’d purposely courted this style so that Giles’ knick knacks, books, and records fit in.  It was an odd mix, but it worked.  At least she thought it worked.  No one had ever seen it but her.  Most of her business was done over the Internet.  She rarely met with clients face to face.  She dropped her nearly empty back pack on the chair beside the door and kicked off her shoes.

            She made her way down the short hall into her bedroom.  The apartment had three bedrooms.  The smallest she used as an office.  The next in size was her training room.  The biggest was her bedroom.  She would have used it as the training room, but the luxury of having a huge master bathroom connected to her bedroom seduced her utterly.  She slipped off her clothes and put them into the laundry basket.  Then she treated herself to a long, hot shower.  There were hidden joys to the shower massager, but she waited.  Tonight she really needed to relax.  Lotioned and powdered, she climbed into her soft cotton sheets.  She opened the bedside drawer and took it out.  She flipped the switch and felt herself react like one of Pavlov’s dogs as her core instantly became moist.  She spread her legs, using one hand to hold the toy, and the other to put pressure on the outside of her entrance.  There was a technique to it, a lonely technique, but still it was a skill she had perfected over the years.  Could you put that on a resume? 

            As she closed her green eyes, she let her mind go, seeking out a fantasy.  The fantasies always differed, but the man in them was always the same.  He was the epitome of sex.  He’d been her secret desire from the first moment she’d met him.  Many a guilty night had passed during those early years as her mind refused to focus on anyone but him.  She could start out the fantasy with the actual boyfriend of the moment.  Angel.  Riley.  But when it came time to finish the job, it was always him.  She stopped fighting it about the time Riley left.  Just gave into the fantasies and let him have his staring role.  Tonight was going to be good.  Tonight he was going to make dinner for her and then seduce her with ice cream and movies.  It was a little scary at how domestically detailed her fantasy life had become.

            She was really getting into it, getting closer and closer to her goal, just about to scream out his name… Huh?  She pushed the switch to the ‘off’ position.  There it was again.  A knock.  Damn.  She placed her prized procession back in the drawer.  She got up in a flash of irritation, reaching for her robe and belting it as she headed out of her room.  If it was another neighbor daring to ask to borrow anything, she’d…  Of course, no neighbor had asked to borrow anything, ever.  And it was almost five in the morning.  The sun was just peeking over the horizon.  She walked over to the door and plucked her gun off the counter.  She released the safety and peeked through the door.  Fuck.  She caught a glimpse behind the man.  Double fuck.

            Buffy threw open the door and growled, “What?”

            Angel had to take a step back.  She smelled like sex.  “How about hello?”

            “Hello, Angel.  Drusilla.  Now, what?” Buffy asked her right hand still holding the now useless gun.

            Angel looked down at the weapon.  “Don’t you think maybe you should invite us in?  It’s almost sunrise.”

            “Yeah, right.  As if.  Let’s see.  Hanging out with Drusilla.  At my door.  Probably dancing on the dark side.  I don’t think an invite is exactly forthcoming here, Angelus,” Buffy quipped.

            Angel rolled his eyes.  “I’m not evil.”

            “And you’re with Drusilla, why exactly?”

            “It’s a long story, Buffy.  Look can we come in or not?” He really wanted to just get inside and close his eyes for awhile.

            “Why?  Give me something here,” Buffy demanded.

            Drusilla peeked around Angel’s shoulder.  “It’s Spike.  They’ve taken him.  You have to get him back!”  The insane vampire had tears pooling in her dark blue eyes.

            “Come in,” Buffy sighed deeply, already regretting it.  The tears in Dru’s eyes were by no means her undoing.  It was the woman’s words.  One word to be precise.  Spike.

            When they stepped through the door, Buffy shut it and punched several commands into a key pad.  Immediately, the door locked and heavy blinds came down over all of the oversized windows.

            Angel looked at her in surprise.  “Get a lot of vamp visitors?”

            Buffy just shrugged.  She never got visitors.  It beat the hell out of her why she put in the thick blinds.  “You never know when old friends might show up.  Now what is this about Spike?  Why are you with Drusilla?  And why the hell would you think I’d rescue the blonde menace?”  Buffy threw herself into a large armchair, leaving the couch for the vampires.

            Angel sat down, Dru by his side, and prepared himself to tell the tale.  “It all started about eight years ago.  Spike and Drusilla were captured by this group called the Initiative.  It was a government operation that was experimenting with demons.  Word came to me and I tried to rescue them.  They are my childer after all, and if anyone is going to kill them…”

            “Yeah, yeah, save it.  You wanted to protect them.  End of story. I get it,” Buffy said harshly.

            Angel realized the woman across from him was very different from the girl he had once known.  “Anyway, I went in to rescue them and ended up getting captured myself.  They put in these microchips that prevent us from harming humans.  The operation was closed due to lack of funding when the war in the Middle East started.  They were going to just terminate us, but we escaped during a power failure,” Angel explained.

            “Wow!  That’s just… Wow!  Where were you taken?” Buffy asked.

            “We were in South America,” Dru replied, holding tightly onto Angel’s hand.

            “That’s just… I actually dated one of those guys.  Those commando guys.  They had an operation in Sunnydale.  I sort of blew it up,” Buffy confessed.

            “You are the one who blew up the Sunnydale unit?” Angel asked in surprise and not just a little bit of horror.  “We heard about that where we were.  Hundreds of humans died in that explosion.”

            Buffy heard the accusation.  “So?” She cocked her head, her expression a study in defiance.

            Drusilla drew her hand out of Angel’s and clapped.  “Oh, I like her, Angel.  She’s perfect.”

            “Buffy, how could you?” Angel asked.

            “Easy.  They deserved to die.  I could give you the details, Angel, but I really don’t care enough to bother.  Now, if you need my help, why don’t you quit with the judgmental bullshit and tell me what it is you want me to do,” Buffy demanded.

            Angel cleared his throat.  “Right.  Well, we stayed together.  Since Dru and Spike couldn’t hurt anyone, it was best that we all stayed together.  Safety in numbers,” Angel said looking down at his hands.

            “You liked being with your family, Angel.  Just admit it,” Buffy told him.

            “Okay, I like being with my family.”  He looked up at her.  “And that’s why we need you.  Spike ran off one night and he got captured by some sex-slave ring in Los Angeles.  Dru and I can’t help him because they’re all human.  We tried to hire someone to go in and get him, but no one we contacted would do it.”

            “How did they get a hold of him?  They’re using him for sex?  Like pimping him out?” Buffy could feel a cold rage building inside of her.

            “Yes, they are.  He took off.  He was mad at us.  He went to a bar, got blitzed, mouthed off.  Flashed some fang to the wrong people. That’s all we know, really.  One of the waitresses felt sorry for him and told us what happened when we tracked his scent back to the bar where she works,” Angel said.

            Buffy gave him a hard look.  “And why didn’t’ you just get the damn chips removed and go in and get him?”

            “He’s being a horrible daddy, that’s why,” Dru cried.  “He won’t bring back my knight.  He wants us to stay caged.  Prisoners in our own flesh!”

            “Dru, don’t,” Angel begged.  They’d had this argument a million times before.

            Buffy was disgusted with him.  What had she ever seen in this guy?  He was a total wuss.  “I’ll do it.  I’ll get him.  But I’ll do it my way, and the two of you will stay here and keep out of my way.  Got it?”

            Angel’s shoulders slumped in relief.  “Got it,” he agreed.

            Dru got up and wrapped Buffy up in a tight hug.  She sniffed the blonde slayer delicately and gave her a knowing look.  “Do you need help with that?”

            Buffy knew exactly what Dru was referring to.  She would have been embarrassed, but once again she didn’t care enough muster it up.  “No, I’ve got it covered.  What exactly did the two of you do to make Spike so mad?” Buffy asked, having a pretty damn good idea.

            Angel’s eyes darted away.  “We… we were intimate.”

            Buffy snorted.  Intimate.  She didn’t even comment.  She just went to the hall closet and pulled out some sheets, blankets, and a couple of pillows.  She threw them at Angel’s head.  “Here.  The couch pulls out.  I’ll see you in a few hours.”  She went back into her bedroom and just stared up at the ceiling.  There was no way she would get any solid sleep.  She had this tight sensation in her chest.  She had to get him out of there.


Chapter 2


            It had been three days.  Three days of having them in her house.  Three days of listening to Angel ‘hush’ Drusilla as she came.  Did they not know she was a Slayer?  There was a whole supernatural capabilities package involved here, people!  There had also been three days of intense research on her part.  She was currently ensconced in her office, holding the book that would solve Spike’s problem.

            “It’s weird, seeing you like this,” Angel’s soft voice came through the doorway of her office.

            “Like what?” Buffy asked absentmindedly, as she flipped through one of Giles’ ancient tomes.  There.  She found exactly what she needed.  She was ready to go in.

            “Doing research.  So sure of yourself.  It’s good.  You’ve grown up,” he told her.

            Buffy’s eyes stopped their page roving.  “I grew up a long time ago, Angel.  You just weren’t around to see it,” she said evenly, setting the book down, carefully taking mental note of the page number.

            “Yeah, I know.  I’m sorry.  In hindsight I don’t suppose taking off was the best thing.  I just wanted you to have a chance at a normal…”

            Buffy held a hand up to stop him.  “Don’t say it.  I don’t want to hear it.  As you can see,” Buffy waived the hand around the room.  “Normal was not in the cards.  It never was.  You left because you couldn’t handle things the way they were.  End of story.  Being sorry isn’t going to get us anywhere.  It sure as hell isn’t going to help Spike.”

            “Why are you helping us, Buffy?” Angel asked quietly, still half in love with the strange girl.

            “I’m doing it for Spike.  He helped me save the world once.  I owe him one,” she explained.  Not to mention the blonde vamp deserved a break.  She couldn’t imagine being saddled with a cheating, insane girlfriend-cum-sire and a grand-sire who purposefully keeps you muzzled.  Spike was the only opponent she hadn’t been able to take down.  She’d even put him in a wheelchair and he’d jumped back at her.  She respected him and he deserved a whole hell of a lot more than these two star-crossed assholes were willing to give him.

           “Did you find what you were looking for?  I could help research if you’d just tell me what you’re after,” Angel asked.

            “Yes, I found it, and no I’m not going to tell you.  You’ll just have to trust me.  I’ll be leaving in the morning, heading to Los Angeles.  I won’t contact you.  It shouldn’t take longer than two weeks.  If you don’t see us both back here in that time you might look into a chip removal,” Buffy told him harshly, secretly thinking a soul removal wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

            “Okay,” he agreed.  “I wouldn’t leave you in a place like that, Buffy.  I’ll do whatever I have to.”

            “Then why leave Spike?”

            “That’s different, It’s Spike.  He can handle it.”

            Buffy grabbed up the papers and the book she had been working on and stood defiantly.  “Don’t presume to know just what I can handle, Angel.”  Buffy walked past him and into her room to pack.  It was time to go undercover.  She was going for nervous and repressed.  She had to look into getting a Lexus or a Mercedes.  Something in pastel.

            The next morning she walked passed the sleeping lovers and into the wide, wide world.  She’d put in a call to her magic contact, Harry.  So not his real name.  He was working on a thing or dozen for her.  She still needed to figure the name, though.  She was usually good with name picking, but this time she was stumped.  Diana?  No.  Too feminist.  Carole?  Too 70’s receptionist.  Jamie?  Too cute.  Allison?  Maybe.  M.  M was good.  Neutral, middle of the alphabet.  M.  Mary?  Missy?  Melinda?  Oooh, Melinda.  That’s nice.  Middle of the alphabet middle of the road.  Shy, retiring, and yet not too stereotypical.  Melinda it would be.  Melinda Anne Gilson of Los Angeles, California.  Living off of family money.  College graduate.  Nothing fancy.  Never been married.  No serious relationships.  Age 27.  Light brown hair, long, falls in face.  Gotcha.

            Buffy flipped open her cell phone and made a call.  “Harry?  It’s me.  I got a name.  Melinda Anne Gillson.  I’ll be in LA in about an hour and half.  Here are the rest of the specs…”

            Several minutes later she hung up the phone, knowing she was in good hands.  Harry was the best.  He was her usual guy.  She’d tried to find someone in San Diego, but no one beat Harry.  He didn’t just do ID; he did background, recon, acquisition, the works.  He used a combination of good ol’ hound dog and solid magic.  No one could compare to Harry.  Too bad he was sexually incompatible with humans; she bet he’d make a hell of a lover.  Never miss a mutual orgasm.

            Buffy rifled through her CD changer until she found what she was looking for.  Sarah McLachlan.  This was Melinda music.  Haunting and introspective.  She worked on her voice, her background, and her mannerisms all the way to LA.  By the time she pulled into Harry’s she was feeling Melinda.  She spent the remainder of the day with the demon mage getting everything up and running.  By the time she left his place in her ice blue Lexus with white leather interior, she was Melinda.  She drove straight to the house Harry provided.  A nice, modern, 60’s style single story.  The house was furnished in chic contemporary pieces. 

            She walked in and got herself oriented.  There were a few personal items, paper work and such, that Harry had her put here and there.  She was familiar with this routine; it was something she did on any long term job.  Long term being anything that lasted three days or more.  Normally the client paid for her play persona and its accoutrements, but this time she was stuck with the bill.  In fact, she had actually been supplying Angel and Dru with their blood these past few days.

            She plugged in her notebook and set to work.  She was leaving a nice Internet trail on a pre-routed search.  Melinda was lonely and looking for a lost love.  Okay, a lost vicious death, but she’d had a taste and desperately craved more.  Several hours later she had the contact number she’d been looking for.  She picked up the land line and dialed.

            “Carter Cruises,” a cultured male voice said over the phone line.

            “Y-y-yes, hello.  I-I-I’m looking to go on a trip.  I-I-it’s rather unusual.  I was wondering if you could help me arrange it?” Buffy asked tentatively.

            “May I ask where you heard of us?”

            “O-on the Internet.  I-I-I’ve been looking for so long.  I’d given up hope, but I found a chat room.  They said you could help me,” Buffy said nervously.

            “I see and what chat room was this?”

            Buffy gave him the URL, her name, address, and telephone number.

            “We’ll call you right back.  We just need to verify the information you have given us.”

            “O-oh, of course.  Thank you.  Uh, wait!  Mr.?”


            “Um, this is all confidential, right?” Buffy asked worriedly.

            “Yes, ma’am completely.  It’s our guarantee.”

            “Okay, thank you.”

            Twenty minutes later her phone rang.


Chapter 3



            “Miss Gillson?”  It was a new voice.


            “I’m Ms. Carter.”  She wasn’t, but it was policy to say so because all clients felt the most at ease when they thought they were dealing with the owner and that the operation was small and tidy.

            “Ms. Carter, how nice.  Thank you for calling me back,” Buffy said.

            “We were able to tell from the nature of your chat that you are interested in taking a trip with a little zest, a little bite, so to speak.”

            “Yes.  It’s a fantasy of mine.  No, a need,” Buffy confided.

            “Yes, well we can discuss this further in person.  But I need you to know that we cannot offer quite what you are looking for.  We are willing to try, however.  Would you like to come in for a consultation, Miss Gillson?”

            “Yes, very much,” Buffy agreed eagerly.

            “How do you feel about now?”

            It was a test and Buffy knew it.  “Now?  Wow.  I guess I don’t have anything… Now.  I-I-I can come now.  Okay,” Buffy said, letting the insecurity creep back into her voice.

            “Great.” She gave Buffy the address.  “We look forward to seeing you.  Say, twenty minutes?”

            Buffy looked at the clock.  “I suppose I can make it in twenty, but probably more like thirty this time of day.”

            “Very well, thirty it is.”

            Buffy hung up the phone with a triumphant smile.  She was in.  She was so in.  The one-on-one was what she did best.  She changed into crème colored linen slacks with a matching blazer.  A celadon colored shirt completed the outfit.  She put on matching camel colored shoes and a purse.  Melinda was on the move.

            She drove the car, fully aware she was being tailed.  Amateurs.  This was going to be fun, especially when she freed Spike.  It had been forever since she’d had anyone to work with.  She looked forward to their interactions.  And to the look on his face when he realized that she was there for him.  It would probably be very similar to the one on her face when he’d first given her that ‘hello cutie’ line.

            She made sure to look at the written directions repeatedly.  She’d committed the address to memory at first glance.  It was something she’d become practiced in over the years.  When she pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine, she forced herself to sit in her seat for a moment like she was collecting herself.  Then she got out of the car, fumbling with the automatic lock until she set the alarm.  She walked over to front door and gave several furtive glances before entering.

            “Miss Gillson?”  The first voice she’d spoken to, the cultured male voice.

            “Yes, I’m here to see Ms. Carter,” Buffy said with just a bit of a blush.  Whenever she needed a blush, she just thought back to the time she’d walked in on Xander and Anya playing Cowboy and Indian Maiden.  The things Anya was doing with the feathers from her headdress had to be illegal.  At the very least they were extremely icky.

            “Follow me.  She’s waiting for you.  I’m Gabriel by the way,” he said as he led her to the back.

            Buffy could practically feel the eyes of the security cameras as she walked down the plush, carpeted hall.  Gabriel opened a door that read ‘Employees Only’ and stood back to let her through.  Buffy purposefully put out her senses as she entered the room.  The message came back good and solid:  this place was null.  No supernatural creatures of any kind. 

           A very blond head came up as Gabriel shut the door.  It had a bright, white smile attached to it.  “Hello, Miss Gillson.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  Ms. Carter got up from her seat, hand extended.

            Buffy shook it delicately.

            “Have a seat, please.”  Ms. Carter dutifully waited until her new client was seated before resuming her own seat.  She then passed over a piece of paper.

            Buffy took the offered item and looked it over.  When she was done she raised question filled eyes.

            “That’s our issue in a nutshell, Miss Gillson.”

            The paper succinctly informed her of Spike’s little biting problem.  The chip. Because of it, he couldn’t inflict any pain on his victims. 

            “I don’t understand.  Isn’t he a …”

            “Yes, the reasons are complicated.  Still, this is the only opportunity for such a specific pleasure without the dangers normally associated with planning a trip like this,” Ms. Carter said, turning up the heat on the sell.

            This is just what Buffy wanted.  Now they were pursuing her instead of her pursuing them.  It was so damn easy.  “That’s true, but…” Buffy looked around the room and then leaned in close.  “Can I speak freely?”

            “Please do,” Ms. Carter said.

            Buffy pulled her brown hair back to reveal a very distinct scar.  “When I was a teenager I had to stay after school for a project.  My dad was late in picking me up.  A man came.  It was dark.  He was dark.  So handsome.  He took my breath away.  We chatted for a bit.  He was the most charming man I had ever met.  He leaned in, I was sure it was for a kiss, but he went for my neck.  He sucked on it for a moment and then he bit.  It hurt, but it…. I can’t possibly explain it.  I’ve never… I have never been able to feel that way again.  My dad pulled up right then and ruined it.  He always ruins everything for me.  I need this.”

            “What do you specifically need?”

            “I need the bite.”

            “Is it the bite or is it the drink?  After all, you already experienced the bite.  It was the drink you missed.  If you’d like, we could provide you with the means to open yourself up to him.  Or if you prefer we can have someone in there with you, to do it for you.  Nothing that would require hospital attention, of course.  Although we do have a medic on staff.”

            Buffy looked down at her hands.  She was very quiet.  She looked up after a moment.  “I suppose this is as close as I’ll ever get.”

            Ms. Carter let a huge smile spread over her face.  Bright.  Bright.  She gave Buffy another piece of paper.  “Here’s our asking price.”

            $25,000.  Buffy took a deep breath and then nodded.

            “Excellent.  Our accountant will be contacting you with the details of the transfer.  Once the funds are secured, I’ll call you with the address and time.  Alright?”

            “Alright,” Buffy agreed.


Chapter 4


            Spike waited, like he did every night.  Sometimes several times a night.  He’d kill himself if they weren’t always watching him.  He’d had all he could take.  It had been weeks and weeks.  He seriously doubted that Angel and Drusilla were coming for him at this point.  They were probably too wrapped up in each other to even notice that he was missing.  So here he sat, waiting to be used yet again.  At least this time he would be getting some real blood.  They’d explained how it was going to work.  The chit had a hard on for the bite, but since he couldn’t hurt her, they were supplying the rich bitch with a small pocket knife.  She would make a little cut in her skin and he would vamp and suck on it.  The thought of fresh blood was nearly enough to get him aroused.  Nearly.

            The fat-pocketed assholes they brought in to him were seldom sexually appealing.  The only way he managed to perform at all was to let his mind settle far away.  Somewhere else, anywhere but here.  Not on just anyone, however.  It was always her.  The Slayer.  Little golden goddess.  Wicked fighter.  Sassy mouth.  Too bad he’d been so hung up on Drusilla back then, back when he and the blonde had danced.  He wondered what she was doing right now.  Angel had mentioned her only once over the years.  Said she was running a demon killing business.  Assassin for hire.  That kind of thing.  Spike couldn’t help the smile that came over his face when he thought of it.  It was about time one of those girls got something besides an early death from their calling.

            The red light over the door flashed, disturbing him from his thoughts.  It was a signal for him to slip into Mr. Overly Seductive mode.  Fucking ridiculous.  He stared at the thick steel door.  The room itself was made out of cement.  They knew he couldn’t hurt them, but they also knew how strong he was, and had taken every precaution to assure he could not escape from this hell hole. He couldn’t even sense anything through these thick walls.  He couldn’t even tell if it were day or night.  He pulled himself into a seductive pose on the bed and waited.

            Buffy stepped into the room and wasn’t surprised to hear the thick steel door shut behind her.  She looked towards the figure on the bed.  The one trying so hard not to show his surprise.  The one desperately trying to figure out what she was doing there.  She was hoping the red and black ‘Spike’ outfit she was wearing would send him a signal of solidarity.

            Once he recovered from his shock he figured she must be here to kill him.  Then he got a load of her outfit.  She was deliberately wearing his colors.  That’s when it hit him:  she was the Calvary.  The bloody Slayer was here to rescue William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers.  He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  On the one hand he appreciated the irony of it all, but on the other hand he was horrified to think that she found him so harmless with this fucking chip that she was willing to actually rescue him.

            Buffy saw the play of emotions in his eyes.  She was sure the cameras watching them wouldn’t be able to pick up on them, they were so subtle.  Subtle but there.  She found herself wanting to go to him.  To reassure him.  Before she knew it, her feet were moving across the room.  She was nearly to the bed when she saw him pull himself together.

            The script.  Remember the script.  There was no reason to piss off his captors.  They enjoyed keeping him in line a little too much.  It was probably the only reason he could think of to stay alive:  the possibility of revenge.  He came to a stand and held out his hand to his newest client.  He’d play along.  See what her game was.

            “I’m William,” he told her in a rough edged voice.  A bedroom voice.

            She placed her tiny hand in his and gave him a shy smile.  “Hello, William.  I’m Melinda.  Did… did they tell you what, uh, what…” she trailed off nervously, but still held his left hand in hers.  Stroking it with her thumb ever so gently to reassure him.

            “It’s okay, luv, they explained.  We’ll take it nice and slow.  When you want to pick up the pace you just let me know,” he explained.

            Buffy could feel her lips trying to pull back into a grimace at his words.  Just how many times had he been forced to say that?  She looked into his blue eyes and raised her other hand, the one not holding his, to the side of his face.  “Why don’t you lead?”

            Spike leaned into her hand just a bit.  “Alright, S... Melinda.  Would you like me to take your clothes off first?  Or would you prefer a kiss?”  Spike waited.  Would she let him kiss her?  Would she take this, whatever it was, that far?  Was he too soiled for her?  That was the real question.  The one that was causing a lump to build in his throat.

            “A kiss would be lovely,” she breathed out.

            Spike gave her a smile.  The first one he’d genuinely given since he’d been captured.  He pulled her slowly to him as he claimed her lips in a soft kiss. 

            Buffy leaned into him.  She couldn’t help herself.  She realized he didn’t mean this to be a passionate kiss, and she had to force herself to keep her lips closed.  She couldn’t help the tiny little mewl that sounded in her throat as he pulled away as quickly as he’d come in.

            Spike felt that mewl.  It melted the lump in his throat completely.  He reached down and gave her nose a little rub with his own.  “Clothes now, luv?” he asked.

            Buffy swallowed and her eyes got big.  Spike had to bite back a grin as he realized she hadn’t exactly thought this through.  He’d been able to tell quickly by her entrance and intro that this wasn’t a grab and dash kind of thing.  Damn it all.  She must have some reason that she specifically wanted him to taste her blood.  Her blood.  His dick got hard at the thought of what he was really about to get.  Slayer blood.  Buffy blood. 

            “That would be nice,” Buffy said, finally answering his question.  Her shyness very genuine this time.

            As Spike reached up and untied the red scarf she was wearing around her neck he wished fervently that they were somewhere else.  One of his most secret fantasies was about to come true, and here he was under lock and key by a group of bloody humans.  He shoved back his ire and forced himself to enjoy this while he could.  It was doubtful once she got him out that she’d ever lower herself to touch someone like him again.  Still, there was the kiss.

              He folded her scarf and set it on a nearby armchair.  Then he pulled her soft black jersey over head.  Was that cashmere?  He was delighted to realize she wasn’t wearing a bra.  She didn’t need one.  Small.  Pert.  Perfect.  He watched as her nipples pebbled under his heated gaze.  He placed the shirt on the chair with the scarf.  Then he turned back to her and looked into her green eyes.

            “You are spectacular, luv.  Bloody beautiful,” he said reverently.

            Buffy could hear the sincerity in his voice and couldn’t help closing the slight distance between them.  “S… William, could we move this under the covers?  I’m feeling a little exposed,” she confessed.

            Spike ran his hands up her bare back as he pressed her against his chest.  “Certainly, I should have thought of that myself,” he said, feeling oddly possessive towards her and not wanting security to get their jollies by looking at her naked flesh.  He carefully maneuvered her to the side of the bed, and then he lifted the covers back and placed her underneath.  He climbed under with her and took her red and black converse off, socks, black jeans, and red panties.  He carefully noted each item.  Her wearing his colors was sexy as hell.

            When he was done and had given her several well placed kisses on her bare flesh, he popped out of the covers holding up her little knife.  It had been in her pants pocket.  “This yours, luv?” he asked.

            Buffy reached out and took the ridiculously small knife that they had given her.  “Thanks,” she mumbled, nearly embarrassed by the size of the weapon.

            Spike got out of the covers entirely and started to undress himself.  “Don’t,” Buffy said suddenly.

            Spike’s hands stilled.  “I see,” he said, the lump coming back with force.  She didn’t want him.  Not like that.  He couldn’t blame her.  They’d made him nothing more than a whore.  Used by countless men and women.

            “No, I meant.  Don’t.  Out there.  Do it under here please,” she clarified, hating the look of pain and self loathing that had settled on his face.  He was a proud creature.  Such looks did not belong on him.

            Spike sucked in an unneeded breath and closed his eyes briefly.  Her words made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.  Cherished.  He knew it was a ridiculous thought.  As if the Slayer would ever cherish him.  As if anyone besides his mum could.  Still, it was a nice gesture.  He got back under the covers and removed his clothes.

            When they were both completely naked, laying side by side the oddity of the situation hit them.  Buffy was the first to giggle, followed closely by Spike.  Her hand brushed his thigh during her mirth, completely sobering them up as a shot of lust hit them.  They each stilled, waiting.

            Buffy forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.  She was a professional.  She knew the score.  Knew the game.  Had been playing it for years now.  She took the knife and pulled out the teeny tiny blade.  She parted her hair and took perverse satisfaction in drawing the knife sharply across the marks that the Master and Angel had given her.

            Spike moved lighting fast.  He rolled over her, parting her thighs with his knees to settle between them, and buried his face in her neck.  He sucked greedily as he wrapped his lips around the weeping cut.  Her blood poured down him, flooding his system.  He was so lost he didn’t even realize that he’d entered her, didn’t realize she was chanting something softly in his ears. 

            Buffy had uncovered what she was looking for in an old book of her dead Watcher’s – a way around the chip.  What the government had done with modern technology she was going to undo with ancient ritual.  She’d already known from an ugly indecent with the infamous Dracula that Slayers and vampires were connected through their demons on a metaphysical level.  That connection went beyond what the hand of man could produce and Buffy was capitalizing on it, binding Spike to her with blood, flesh, and words.

            Spike felt the magic before he heard it.  Suddenly there was a shift in his essence.  He wasn’t what he had been.  He was different.  He was more.  She’d given him something and he thought he may have given her something in return.  He took one last pull of her powerful blood before he rolled off and out of her.  When his now limp penis came to rest against his thigh he could smell it.  His blood.  He’d cum.  He’d left his blood deep inside of her body.  He felt incredible.  Like he’d just had the greatest sex of his existence.  Wait a tick!

            He looked at her, getting seriously pissed.  He’d missed it.  She’d put some kind of mojo on him and he’d missed it.

            Buffy could feel Spike getting all riled up beside her.  She figured he was pissed that she’d bound them.  She imagined it wasn’t exactly a dream come true for him to be connected to the Slayer.  It took her a moment to collect herself enough to try and tell him what was going on.  Her body felt like it was made out of pudding.  It was too bad she’d been so lost in the chant that she hadn’t been able to truly enjoy the experience. 

            She slipped her hand into his and brought it up to her mouth, placing a soft kiss on the back of it.  Then she rolled herself over until she was snuggled against his side.  “William, I want to thank you.  That was amazing.  I feel so connected to you, now.  Like we’re giving each other our strength and taking away one another’s weaknesses.  Does that sound silly?  It sounds silly, doesn’t it?  I’ve been told I get a little overly romantic after sex,” she boldly lied.

            Spike realized what she was telling him and he calmed himself, concentrating on the real purpose for this conjugal visit.  “You can never be too romantic, luv,” he told her and meant it.

            Buffy let a smile light up her face.  “Does this mean you wouldn’t mind me coming again?  I’d love to see you a couple of more times.”  Buffy said softly, hoping he got her meaning.  It took a ceremonial three for the binding spell to go into full effect.  She was a little nervous now.  She already felt the change from just the initial ceremony.  She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like when it was complete.

            Spike felt the tension building in her.  Two more times.  They had to do this two more times.  That must be what was making her nervous.  If she was feeling anything like he was feeling he completely understood.  If this was just the appetizer the main course was likely to knock them on their asses.  It should frighten him, but it didn’t.  He was looking forward to it.  He’d had a taste of her and he wanted more.  In fact, he wanted the whole thing.  He looked down at her and gave her a tender smile.  “I’d love that, kitten,” he whispered as he kissed her deeply.

            Buffy felt her lips part allowing him access and with them went her tension.  Completely washed away.  She felt her toes curl up from the sensation of having his tongue in her mouth.  This was the most incredible kiss of her life.  Just as she wondering if they might have time for a round of straight love making the light flashed in the room.  Time was up.

            Spike got out of the covers, slipped on his jeans, and picked up her clothes.  He dressed her with his hands under the covers, keeping roving eyes from seeing his girl.  His girl. She was.  He could feel it.  When he was finished he pulled her out of the covers and into his arms.  He walked her to the door, kissing her nonstop.  When they got to the hated steel, Spike lifted up the red scarf and carefully tied it around her neck, covering the marks there.  Not his marks, not yet…

            Buffy pulled him down for another kiss.  Leaving him here was turning into one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do.  She felt a sob threaten and had to painfully swallow it.

            Spike could feel her desperation as it echoed his own.  “Soon,” he whispered.

            “Soon,” she promised as the door opened and she was escorted outside.

Chapter 5


            Buffy was going crazy.  She didn’t have another appointment to see Spike for several days.  It was killing her.  She could feel him.  She could feel what he felt.  It was horrible.  The things he was made to do.  She felt a bloodlust rise up inside of her and knew without a doubt that it wasn’t Spike’s.  It was hers.  There would be hell to pay very soon.  Human or not, they were going down.  She’d split Ms. Carter’s too wide smile until she literally grinned from ear to ear.

            Buffy grabbed the counter in front of her desperately trying to reign in some control. She knew she needed to be calm for Spike.  That he had a role to play and she was messing with it by feeding him her anger.  She took a deep breathe and reached for the cell phone on the table.  It was a special phone with signal blockers.  Spy tech.  Handy.  She pressed in the appropriate buttons until her phone was ringing.

            “Hello?” Angel’s voice poured over the line.

            She’d never wanted to hear it more than she did at this moment selfish creature that she was.  “Angel?”

            “Buffy?  Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly.  She didn’t sound right.

            “I saw him.  It’s horrible.  I have to get him out of there.  I can’t yet, though.  It’s too soon.  I had to just leave him,” she sobbed.

            Angel’s worry skyrocketed.  This wasn’t right.  She was acting way too upset about this.  “Buffy, what did you do?”

            “I did what I had to,” she answered, resting her head against the counter.  “Don’t worry about that.  Just please talk me down.  I can’t seem to control my emotions.”

            Angel was at a loss.  The phone was taken out of his hands.  “Buffy, my sweet girl.  It’s Drusilla, luv.  Just think of the end.  Think of him being free.  Think of the blood that will flow.  Think of the flesh as you tear it apart.  Screams that coat the walls for years to come.  Freedom.  Rampage.  Think of him in you.  Hot and ready.  Think of the night and all of its sweet delights.  Think of years and years of love.  It’s coming, Buffy.  Wait for it.  Don’t rush things and ruin them.”

            Buffy let Drusilla’s words pour over her, calming her.  Settling her rage until she could trust herself.  “Thanks, Dru.  Creepy, but needed.  You’d better put Angel back on the phone.”  She straightened herself up.

            “What the fuck is Dru talking about, Buffy?  What did you do?” he practically yelled.

            “I told you.  I did what I had to.  I needed to kill it.  Stop it from stopping him.  I can’t explain over the phone.  I have to go.  I’ll be okay now.  Don’t be mad at Dru.  I did this all on my own, she just read me or whatever the hell she does,” Buffy said as she pressed the disconnect button.

            She shook herself out.  She needed to keep herself as busy as possible while she waited.  She picked up the phone again.  “Harry?  I need work.  I don’t care what it pays so long as it can be done and keep my cover at the same time.  Hit me Harry.  Hit me good,” she begged.

            “Alright, my darling.  Meet me at the Third Street Gym.  I think I know just what you need,” he hung up the phone.

            Gym?  She looked down at her fancy Melinda clothes.  Better change.  She walked into her room and put on a pair of still fancy Melinda sweats and a t-shirt.  She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and put on some tennis shoes.  She was gym ready.

            She drove the car to the gym and parked in its very convenient under ground parking garage.  She got out and headed over to the elevator, pushing the button and waiting.  The doors opened and there was Harry.  She got in with a smile.

            “How do you do that?” she asked.

            “Magic, my dear.  Now, are you ready to have some distracting fun?”

            “Yes, please.”

            “Just remember, you asked for it,” he warned.

            When the elevator doors opened, Buffy realized they weren’t in the Third Street Gym as she knew it.  This was something completely different.  Something otherworldly.  Cool.  There were demons of every shape and size working out.  She followed Harry down a hall and into another large room covered with blue floor mats.  There were little, bitty demons standing all around.  It took Buffy a moment to realize they were children.

            “Okay, class.  This is Miss Buffy.  She will be your instructor for the next week while Mr. Gra Ror gets electrolysis treatments for that little toe problem he has.  Any questions?”

            One little hand belonging to a young Fyral demon rose up.  “Yeah, she a human?  ‘Cause I don’t wanna get in no trouble for breakin’ her or anything.”

            Harry laughed.  “Just give her a try.”

            Buffy raised one artfully plucked eyebrow at Harry.  “This is the work?  Teaching a bunch of kids.  What am I teaching them exactly?”

            “Why, how to fight, of course!” he said merrily.

            Buffy shook her head and looked down at the floor.  Giles must be rolling over in his grave.   Resigned she looked back up.  “Okay.  Why don’t you guys pair off and show me what you got.  Then we’ll talk about what you want to learn and what you need to learn.”

            The little tikes each made to pair off.  There were several real fights that broke out as a paring was seen as unfavorable in some way.  Buffy and Harry both jumped in to settle things, pairing the children off themselves.  Buffy insisted that Harry pair up with a child in order to make the numbers even.  “Alright, let’s fight.”

            Buffy watched, impressed, as the kids showed a great deal of skill.  No wonder she got her ass kicked so many times when she used to be the Slayer.  These munchkins were good.

            Over the next few days Buffy spent every minute she could at the gym.  She really enjoyed working with the kids.  She was actually learning some things herself.  She didn’t feel guilty about what she was doing.  She realized a long time ago that the world operated on relativity.  It was the parents of kids like these who paid the bills by hiring her.  Somewhere along the line she’d stepped into the demon world and found herself at home there.  Plus, doing this kept her mind off of Spike. 

            The bond was strange and wonderful.  There were shared emotions and a general since of belonging.  Being apart from him was actually painful.  It felt like she was missing something vital.  She had a sneaking suspicion it just might be her heart.  She was starting to wonder if it hadn’t been him all along.  That Whistler had gotten it about as wrong as he could when he hooked her up with Angel.  What if it had been Spike?  Something told her he would never have left her.  Who knows?  Maybe Giles would still be alive.  Or Dawn.  Her sweet Dawnie.  She forced herself to concentrate on the pigtailed pumpkin in front of her.  “Spin when you put your foot out, Sephie,” Buffy told the little girl with soft gray skin.  “That’s right good.  You got him!”

            Two hours later, Buffy was headed back home.  Tonight was the night.  It was time for the second ceremony.  He would need to drink more of her blood.  There were several strategic places on the body that he needed to drink from.  She also needed to ingest his blood as well, in a slightly different manner than last time.  She wasn’t worried.  She sincerely doubted that Spike would object to a blow job.



Chapter 6


            For once Spike could feel something outside of these walls.  He could feel Buffy.  He could feel her coming for him.  The last week had been hell.  It had taken him all of the hard won control he developed over the years to suppress the demon.  Every time she would get upset, his demon would howl.  It had one purpose and one purpose only-- to get to its mate.  Spike didn’t know if the girl realized it, but whatever bonding spell she was using to try and free him from the chip was damn close to a vampire’s mating ceremony.  He hadn’t said the words or she would be well and truly his for all eternity.  He planned on it though.  He wanted her. Already thought of her as his.  But he wanted her willing. 

            The red light flashed and for the first time ever he was pleased to see it.  He slipped into his sexy pose and waited.  The door opened.  There she was; her beauty threatening to put life back in his dead body.  She was amazing.  Effulgent.  His.  She had on the same black and red outfit.  He realized now that it wasn’t just his colors.  It was also practical.  If she needed to fight she could.  It allowed movement and didn’t show blood.  Plus, the Converse meant she could run like hell if she had to.  His girl was a right smart one.  Sexy, too.  His cock was hard and ready.  This time he was determined to remain aware of things.

            Buffy couldn’t help the smile that broke out across her face as she felt the raw desire radiating off him.  She forced herself to walk over to the bed instead of run.  It took all she had not to rip his clothes off and ravage him. Slow. She had to remember Drusilla’s words. Slow. Don’t rush it.

            “Hi,” she said, unable to prevent the husky tone from her voice.

            “Hi, yourself,” Spike answered as he got up on his knees.  “Gonna come here, kitten?”

            Buffy swallowed.  “Oh, yeah.”  She got on the bed, on her knees, and met him in the middle.

            Spike tilted his head to give her a welcoming kiss.  “Taste so good, baby.  Taste so right.  I want you.  You know that don’t you?”

            “Uh-huh,” Buffy mumbled, getting lost in his kiss, his voice, his smell, in him.

            “What do you want, Melinda?  What can I do for you?” he scripted.

            Buffy looked up at him.  She hated hearing that name on his lips.  It was a sobering reminder of what she was here for.  “I want more.  I want you to drink from me again.  More this time.  Is that okay?”

            Spike slipped them both into a supine position on the bed.  “More than okay, luv.  I’m a vampire.  Drinking blood is what I do best,” he told her.

            Buffy looked him right in his baby blues.  “Not what you do best,” she purred.

          Spike closed his eyes and sucked in his bottom lip.  Fuck he wanted her.  Did she have any clue what she did to him?  “Should we start with the clothes?  Under the covers again?” he asked in a voice rough with desire.

            Buffy thought about it.  She really didn’t like the idea of being watched, but then she thought of Dru’s words.  Rampage.  Blood.  Flesh.  They would have their revenge.  “It’s okay.  You can… We can get undressed out here.  You make me bold, William,” she told him, not sounding bold at all.

            “Glad to be of service, pet,” Spike answered back.  He winced.  They’d get him for that comment.  They didn’t like it if he reminded the customers that this was a business transaction.

            Buffy saw the wince and ran a hand up his face.  “Change.”  It was one word with so many meanings.  Change of circumstance.  Change of clothes.  Change of face.  “How about all three?” Buffy suggested, not needing the bond to read his thoughts.

            Spike gave her a wicked smile of agreement as he vamped and started in on removing their clothes.  He didn’t bother folding her things this night.  There was an urgency this time that hadn’t been there before.  Each feeling like they had to be as close to the other as possible.

            When they were naked and lying side by side on the black satin sheets, Buffy held up the knife.  “I’m going to cut myself.  I want you to suck on each and every cut I make, vampire.”

            “As you wish, woman,” Spike responded and waited.  He watched in fascination as she made a cut over her left breast and then her right.  Two long threads of blood welled up and dribbled down the sides.  He felt saliva fill his mouth and the gums around his fangs tighten in anticipation.  His head bent and his tongue came out.  He caught the drop of blood on the left and traced it back up to the source.  He sucked furiously, nicking her slightly with his fangs.  No pain.  He wasn’t sure if it was the spell or the fact that he had absolutely no intention of hurting her.  When he was done with the left he repeated the action on the other side.

            Buffy was chanting under her breath.  Thankfully, it came out as little breathy moans.  She had to take more control this time.  She could not let herself get sucked in by the ceremony.  There were several more cuts she had to make.  When Spike pulled up, she took the blade and drew the shape of a pyramid on her stomach, just over her mound.

            Spike watched carefully as she cut, making sure to note where the blade went in first and what direction it took so that he could copy its motion.  When she pulled back he went in.  Her blood was beyond good.  He trailed over the mark, probing it with his tongue.  It should have caused her pain, but he could tell by the sweet smell coming from just below his mouth that she was feeling nothing but pure pleasure.  He finished the lines and lifted his head up.

            Buffy nearly came right then just from the look on his face.  There he was, fangs shining, mouth stained with her blood, and tongue curled against his teeth, mere inches from where she really wanted his mouth.  She gave him a knowing smile before pushing him gently to the side.  She spread her legs and made the last three cuts.  Two on the inside of her thighs pointing towards her center.  And the last one, ever so tiny, right on the tip of her clitoris. It hurt, but she just laid back and waited.  She knew he would take care of the pain.

            Spike’s dick was in torment.  The site of Buffy drawing that blade over her sweet spot nearly killed him.  He forced himself to heed to the order of the cuts.  He did one thigh and then the other.  He tried not to rush it, but he wanted that last cut.  Want wasn’t a strong enough word.  It was a craving.  A need.  As soon as he was done with the second incision, he was on her.  He pulled the rosy bud into his mouth and ran his tongue over the cut.  Sweet, succulent blood and Slayer juices.  It was like nothing he had ever experienced before.  He broke away to savor the full taste.  He plunged his tongue in and out of her core.  Lavished the sides of her pussy with long, expert strokes.  Soon, he could feel her stiffen.  He gave one last suck on the now healed cut, and she lost it; her legs coming up around him and drawing him against her as she convulsed around his tongue.

            Buffy was gone again.  The chant and ceremony completely taking her over.  She was barely aware of flipping Spike over and latching her mouth onto his throbbing cock.  She sucked down hard as she more hummed than spoke the rest of the chant around his length.

            Spike could feel it happening again.  The binding was taking place.  It was if a part of her was being pulled inside of him.  He knew her mouth was wrapped around him, sucking him for all that he was worth, and he could feel his body responding, but it was if he was somewhere else.  As if he was being remade before being shoved back inside of himself.  He felt his balls tighten as he shot streams of cum and blood into her mouth.

            Buffy swallowed the fluid down and threw herself back on the bed as his essence rode through her body.  It was several minutes before she was able to join him in the land of the coherent.

            “Well, pet.  Was it good for you, too?” Spike asked saucily beside her as he pulled her to his side, wanting to get a bit of a cuddle in before she had to leave.  He was still disappointed that he hadn’t been there for all of it.

            “Good doesn’t even come close to describing it, baby,” she whispered into his chest.

            Baby.  She’d used an endearment for him.  It wasn’t something he’d heard the blonde Slayer do much of over the years he had fought with her.  It made him feel good in all of the right places.  He pulled her up for a lingering kiss.

            The light flashed.  So did Buffy’s eyes as she growled.  “I hate that light!”

            Spike pulled her even tighter to himself.  “Cool it, kitten,” he whispered low enough that only she could hear.  “Think this binding thing is having a bit more effect this time around.  You need to control your emotions, sweetheart.  That was an honest to goodness growl you gave me.  You’d best head straight home.  Test yourself a bit,” he suggested.  Home.  Somewhere he was not.  He hated that.

            Buffy kissed him again.  “Soon,” she said.

            “Soon,” he echoed.


Chapter 7


    Buffy wasn’t feeling too well.  She’d called Harry and told him he’d have to find someone else to conduct the class today.  She thought she may be coming down with the flu.  The only good part about it was that it distracted her from thoughts of Spike.  Things had been shaky ever since she’d left the freaking house of pleasure last night.  She had flashes where she could feel him so intently that she actually felt like she was inside his skin.  It had nearly caused her to crash the car several times on the way home.  Now, this morning she wakes up, achy all over, head pounding, and feeling extremely nauseous.

    She turned on her side and drew her knees up to her chest in an effort to stop the sudden cramping that tore through her.  She tilted her head back taking in heaving gulps of air.  She couldn’t ever remember feeling this crappy before.  As a Slayer she had a superior immune system.  She could count on one hand the amount of times she’d been sick since her calling.  She had another appointment to see Spike three nights from now, she hoped desperately that she’d be over this, whatever it was.  In the background she thought she heard her phone ringing, but there was no way she was going to be able to answer it.  It was all about the ball she had formed herself in.  The ball and breathing.

    Harry was worried.  It wasn’t at all like Buffy to get sick and now she wasn’t answering her phone.  He hated to disturb her privacy but he was going to have to pop in.  He couldn’t pop in just anywhere.  Like a vampire, he had to have an invitation unless it was a public place, but Buffy’s house was actually his house.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on a room in the house.  He chose the living room in hopes of not catching her in the nude.  Not that he wouldn’t dearly love to see her without her clothes on, but even a sickly Slayer punch was more than he cared to experience.  He opened his eyes and looked about.  Phew!  No naked Slayer.  He let out his senses.  He could hear an accelerated human heart beat and heavy breathing coming from the master bedroom.  She really was sick.

    He made his way down the hall and into the room.  She was curled in a tight ball, obviously trying not to throw up by the green look on her face and the deep breaths.  “Buffy?  It’s Harry.  I came to help.”

    Somewhere Buffy registered that words were being spoken to her.  Somewhere else, somewhere new, she registered that the warm body in the room did not possess what she needed.  Unfortunately, she was like a fledgling with no master:  wild and out of control.  She was on the unsuspecting demon in moments, fangs buried in the side of his neck.

    Harry’s brain barely wrapped around a nice solid ‘Oh shit’ before it functioned enough to pop its body out.  He stood in his office with a hand held to his bleeding neck.  Sick!  She wasn’t sick, she was… Okay, he didn’t know what the hell she was.  He’d heard her heart beat.  She hadn’t told him what she was up to.  She never did.  It was as much to protect him as it was to keep client’s privacy respected.  He did know it had something to do with a vampire, however.  What had that girl done?  There were rumors that when she’d been the actual Slayer she’d had an affair with a vampire.  Some poor, souled asshole.  This must have something to do with him.

    Harry bandaged himself up and tried to figure out what to do.  Blood.  With vampires it was all about the blood.  Human.  She’d need human blood.  If she was still Buffy, however, she’d be pissed if he brought her some random human and let her kill them.  No, he’d have to be smart about this.  So where could he round up a bad guy at a quarter to eleven in the morning?  Think Harry.  This was LA.  There were bad guys all over the place.  Think.

    He picked up the phone and dialed a friend of his.  “Gladis?  It’s Harry.  Good, good.  How’re you doing?  Glad to hear it.  Listen, Gladis, does that creepy guy still live two doors down from you?  He’s the one you saw plucking a live pigeon in the park, right?  Good.  Could you get him to come over for some tea or something?  Now actually.  Right now.  I need meat.  Thanks, Gladis.  I’ll owe you big time,” Harry promised.

    He gave it a solid five minutes before he popped into Gladis’ bedroom.  He’d spent a lot of time in this room over the years.  She passed as human, but she was anything but, and she just happened to be sexually compatible with him.  Neither one was suited to a long term relationship, but they enjoyed the occasional physical one from time to time.  He heard the sound of conversation coming from the kitchenette.  He wasn’t worried about getting Gladis in trouble.  Weaving magic was what he did best.  Two days from now the authorities would pick up ‘Creepy Guy’ in the LA river; a clear suicide victim.

    “Hey, Gladis,” Harry said as he came out of the room. 

    Gladis gave him a suddenly very toothy smile.  “Hey, Harry.  Long time no see,” she greeted him.

    He looked sheepishly down at the floor.  “I know.  I’m sorry.  Why don’t you come over to the office next week and we’ll go out to lunch.  Somewhere nice,” he told her.

    “I hope that’s not how you plan on paying me back for this favor,” she warned, heedless of the confused human sitting at her small kitchen table.

    Harry gave her a wide, charming grin.  “Please, don’t insult me, baby.  Harry’s got just what you need.  Three of them in fact.”

    Gladis gave a growling laugh in response.  That’s when the human realized he was in deep shit.  He figured straight away that he was in the presence of demons.  They’d finally come for him, to punish him for his evil deeds.  He didn’t even fight as the strange male grabbed a hold of his shoulder.

    Buffy had receded into the deepest recesses of her psyche.  She was on total, demon autopilot.  She was searching for something.  Something rich and wonderful.  Not what she’d had before.  That had been wrong.  Left a foul taste in her mouth.  She edged onto the floor, unable to stand, trying to find what it was she needed.  She lifted her head in the air to give a hopeless howl when all of the sudden it was there.  She could sense it.  The wrong thing was back but so was something else.  Something good.  Just as she started shuffling around, trying to find it, it was shoved at her.  Thrown right on top of her.  She sank her fangs into its soft flesh and gorged.

    Harry watched in fascination.  She had the fangs but not the bumpies.  Her eyes, what he could see of them between the long strands of blonde hair, were definitely golden.  She looked gorgeous.  He felt all three of his members respond.  Watching her suck the life out of that worthless excuse for a human was a complete turn on. 

    When the last beat of the human’s heart sounded in the room, Harry moved.  He grabbed the corpse and popped out, depositing it in the river before popping back into the house.  She was now laying flat on her back.  Sated.  Sleeping.  He walked into the bathroom and wet the washcloth he found hanging in there.  He came back out and washed her face off before lifting her and carrying her to the bed.  Laying her down, he walked back into the bathroom and rinsed the bloody cloth out.  Then he went into the kitchen and poured her a glass of water.  He also grabbed a large, stainless steel cooking pot.  There was a real good chance that she was going to upchuck when she realized what she’d done.  He sat down and waited.

    Buffy came to herself slowly.  She didn’t feel sick anymore.  She felt nice.  Good in fact.  There was a pleasant taste in her mouth.  Comforting.  She couldn’t identify it.  Rich.  Salty.  She shrugged her shoulders and opened her eyes.  Harry.  Harry was here.  Somehow she thought she knew that.  She sat up and gave him a smile.  “What’s with the bandage, spell-boy?”

    Harry put a hand to his neck, holding the pot in between his knees just in case it was needed.  “Well, someone bit me.”

    Buffy’s face tightened in anger.  “Who?  I’ll kill them!”

    “Slow down, little lady.  I need to talk to you about some things.  First, just let me say – please don’t throw up.  If you throw up we have to start the whole damn process over again and I don’t know where I can find another piece of shit on such short notice.  Second, the biting thing wasn’t your fault.  You were completely out of your head, so please don’t kill yourself.”

    “Me!  I did that?” Buffy cried pointing to his neck.  “Why would I bite you?”

    “You seem to be suffering from a slight case of vampirism,” Harry informed her evenly.

    Buffy’s eyes got big as she put a hand to her mouth.  Just normal teeth.  She touched her forehead.  Normal forehead.  She remembered feeling sickly that morning, but after that everything was a blur.

    “No bumpies, but you had a fine pair of fangs when you were in the throws of it,” Harry explained.

    Buffy looked at him completely horrified.  “Harry, I’m sorry.  I’m really, really sorry.  I would never intentionally hurt you!”

    Harry held up a hand.  “I know, sweets.  But you are going to have to start keeping some blood packets or some humans chained up in the spare room.  Otherwise the bloodlust is going to take hold of you.  Understand?”

    “I could never kill a human for food.  I’ll pick up some blood packets.”  She saw a funny look come over Harry’s face.  A sick though hit her.  What had he said earlier?  Another piece of shit.  She looked at him in horror.  “You didn’t!  I didn’t it!  Harry!  What did you do?”

    “Remember.  Don’t throw up.  We’ll just have to do it all over again,” he said.

    “Harry!” she growled and then slapped a hand over her mouth.  “I growled,” she said as she removed her hand.  “I knew there would be side-effects but I was thinking along the lines of increased speed, night vision, that sort of thing.  I had a few nice sexual side-effects in mind, but not this!  No craving of human blood!”

    “You bound yourself to a master, didn’t you?” Harry asked the upset Slayer.

    “Yeah, it seemed a good idea at the time,” she answered wearily.

    “Buffy, let me ask you this:  Is he worth it?”

    She didn’t even hesitate.  “He’s worth it.”

    “Then don’t keep kicking yourself in the ass over this.  We do what we have to in this world and sometimes that ain’t so pretty,” Harry told her.

    “Speaking of doing what we have to, are you going to tell me what happened here?  Did I actually eat someone?” she asked in a very small voice.

    “Yes.  I brought someone here.  A human, but a real nasty number.  This guy tortures small animals.  People like him start out small and work their way up.  He’d be on to kids next or prostitutes.  You probably did the world a favor.  We both did.  I’m as much to blame as you are,” Harry told her.

    “Why couldn’t you just bring me some blood bags or something?” Buffy asked him, still processing this new information.

    Harry gave her a smile.  For all of the knowledge she had about demons, sometimes she could be so very naïve.  “Because, sweetheart.  You were in deep.  When it gets that bad, stale blood ain’t gonna pull you through.  It was either that guy or someone else.  Someone maybe not quite so foul.  Got it?”

    Buffy thought about what he said.  “Got it.  You can put down the pukey pot now.”

    “Pukey pot?” Harry asked.

    “Yep, that’s what my mom used to call it. The pukey pot.”

”Huh,” Harry said, setting the pot down, relieved that they seemed to be okay.




Chapter 8


    Spike had felt Buffy’s bloodlust keenly.  He was extremely glad that they seldom gave him customers in the daylight hours; even humans liked to do their dirty deeds under the cover of darkness.  He stayed very still on the bed, trying to calm her through the bond, but it wasn’t complete yet and he couldn’t transfer emotions directly.  It was frustrating as hell.  Another thing that was frustrating as hell was his own hunger.  He was starving, and not just for blood.  He wanted food.  Real food. 

    Relief washed over him when he finally felt her hunger cease.  She must have figured it out.  He hoped she didn’t have to eat anyone.  He hoped she’d just gotten hold of a blood packet, but somehow he doubted it.  Now, that just left him.  He wondered what these assholes would have to say if he asked for a steak and baked potato.  They’d probably come in and eat it in front of him just to be dicks.  He couldn’t wait until Buffy came back and this bond was completed.  Surely she’d let him kill these mother fuckers.  What if she didn’t’?  What if he was forced to just walk out and leave them unpunished?  Could he do it?  Could he do that for her?  Hell, yeah.  She was more than worth it.  Any chance he had, no matter what he had to do, to really be with her, he would take.  He let out a deep sigh as he realized that once again he was love’s bitch.

    An hour later his cell door swung open, distracting him from his thoughts.  A heavenly aroma hit him.  Food.  Real food.  Real food and blood.  He looked up with a raised eyebrow at the jailor de jour.  “What’s this then?” he dared to ask.  Sometimes they weren’t too keen on questions. 

    “That broad that’s got it on for you.  The one that likes you to drink her blood.  She called and asked that this be brought in to you.  Said she’d done her research and sometimes vamps like to eat real food.  This is some sort of romantic gesture on her part.  You got steak-- cooked rare of course-- baked potato, chocolate cake, glass of wine, and a glass of B positive.  Bon fucking appetit,” the man grumbled as he left the cell.  Damn vampire was eating better than he was.

    Spike couldn’t help the smile that played over his face as he dug into the food.  He liked to eat the occasional human meal even without the bond, but now he seemed to need it or at the very least strongly crave it.  The steak was incredible.  Everything was incredible.  It all tasted so much more… just more.  He sincerely hoped they weren’t monitoring him at that moment, because he knew he looked like a ponce as he savored each and every bite.  When he was finished with everything, including the blood, he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.  If only Buffy were with him, he’d be a well satisfied man.

    He got in about an hour nap before the red light flashed three times in a row.  That didn’t mean there was a client coming.  It was a signal for him to get up and get ready for the evening’s festivities.  Back to the grind.  Literally.  As he made his way into the bathroom to shower a sudden urge had him thanking the stars that this bathroom was equipped with more than just a sink and a tub.  Human food had typical human results.  He would have hated to have to ask these jerks for a toilet.  Damn, he hoped she’d let him kill them.

    He took his time getting ready, enjoying the hot steam of the shower.  When he walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom area he was none too pleased to see the outfit lying out on the bed.  Stupid fuckers.  Black pants.  White tuxedo shirt.  Black dress shoes.  The coupe de gras?  A cape.  An actual cape.  He put the ensemble on, shuddering to think what kind of client he was in for tonight.  He hoped he didn’t have to run around the room, chasing some fat debutante that had a major jones for Anne Rice hissing ‘I vant to suck your blood’ or some shit.

    When he was completely dressed he sat on the bed and waited.  Red light flashed.  Door opened.  His only thought:  ‘What I wouldn’t do for that nice, fat debutante’.

    A man entered the room.  A pallid, wafer thin excuse for a man.  He was dressed like a priest.  Only Spike had seen, and eaten, his fair share of priests over the years, so he knew a rented costume when he saw one.  This man was no priest.  He was just some nancy boy who wanted to get his jollies off playing priest and vampire.  Idiot.  Maybe for his birthday Buffy would let him track this guy down and tear his nads off.

    “I’m Father O’Brian,” the wannabe said in a bad Irish accent as he held out a large wooden cross before him, a bible clutched firmly under his other arm, holy water dangling at his neck.

    “I’m William, the vampire,” Spike said back, trying not to hurl up his dinner.  Did he actually have to play at this?  Couldn’t they have at least warned him or something?

    “I will cure you of the devil that resides in you, William.  I will free your soul.  Are you ready to be purged?” the man asked, clearly lust addled.

    Spike wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer that.  Some vampires during the inquisition had to go through stuff like this, but he wasn’t that old.  The few priests he’d met who actually knew what he was just went with the old stun them with the cross and stake them routine.  Never worked, but he had to give them credit for trying.  Spike did the only thing he could think of, he vamped and hissed at the man, shouldering his cape in a protective manner.  He felt like such a git. Look out Hollywood, here comes Spike.

    The man held the cross in front of him and advanced like he was in some silent movie picture.  Clearly, this evening would involve a lot of pain and torture with a nice orgasm for the human to top it off.  Joy. Spike held still, trying to act afraid.  Pain was pain.  This guy would have nothing on Angelus.  He tensed ever so slightly when the cross was placed on his forehead.  It burned, a little.  There was the stench of seared flesh and a slight wisp of smoke, but nothing like it should have.  Not even close.  His first instinct was to yell out in celebration, but he caught himself and just turned it into a yell.  “Argh!  Ouch!  Stop, please!  I’ll do anything.”

    “Anything, vampire?” priest guy asked.

    “Anything,” Spike falsely promised.  This was so stupid.

    “Drink,” the man commanded holding the vile of holy water out to him.

    Spike stilled.  Even if the effects were diminished, drinking holy water was not a good idea.  The drinking of holy water was a sure way to kill a vamp.  Spray it on them and they got burned.  Get them to drink it and they dusted.  With a shaky hand Spike reached out to take the vile.  He sent out a warm thought, maybe a last thought, to Buffy before he uncapped it and drank it down.  It was mineral water.  Only mineral water.  He should have realized that he was far too valuable for his keepers to let someone shove holy water down his gullet.  He threw himself to the floor and gave what he felt was an Oscar-winning performance as he pretended to go into convulsions.  When he stilled, he found the human on his knees leaning over him, unbuttoning his pants.

    “One more thing to cure you, vampire,” the false father stated.

    Spike hated this more than anything.  Resolved, he leaned up and did as he was told.  A clear thought penetrated his brain.  It was his salvation.  It was Buffy.  She was communicating with him, using the bond in a way he didn’t think they would be able to.  It must be growing stronger.  She told him, “He’s a dead man, Spike.”


Chapter 9


    Harry watched Buffy from across the room.  If he was careful he could tell when she lost herself.  She seemed to slip right out for just a moment.  He got the feeling she was communicating with her vampire.  She’d told him that it wasn’t the souled one.  Frankly, he was shocked.  She might walk a tightrope between the human world and the demon world, but he pretty much figured once a Slayer always a Slayer.  Of course, who knew what the hell a Slayer was.  He had to admit that he was extremely curious about this vamp.  He must be something special to actually get Buffy to bond with him like this. Harry had convinced her to show him a copy of the spell.  It was heavy.  Heavy and very, very permanent.

    Buffy felt the eyes of her friend boring into her.  His contemplativeness nearly brought a smile to her face.  Nearly.  She had a level of anger and hate that she’d reached over the last couple of days that was nearly crippling.  Thankfully, tonight was the night.  Tonight she would have him.  He would also have her, but that was the way it worked.  She wasn’t trying to enslave him; she was simply trying to free him the only way she knew how.

    “Good, now try doing it the other way,” Buffy instructed the group.  “That’s right.  Nice.  Nice.  I am so impressed with the way you guys have learned to use your elbows.  People overlook the deadliness of an elbow.  I’ve crushed wind pipes, smashed in skulls; I even popped out a Schlankar demon’s fifth eye once, you know the one that sits kind of in the middle of its tailbone, with my elbow,” Buffy told the tiny demons.

    Harry had to hold back a laugh.  The kids were eating her stories up, but he couldn’t imagine her ever being able to teach a class of human children.  No, Buffy Summers was definitely not Girls and Boys Club material.

    “Okay, guys.  That’s it for the day.  Mr. Gra Ror won’t be coming back until Monday, but Harry here will fill in until then,” she told them, feeling a little sad.  She was actually going to miss this.  She had to smile at all of the disappointed ‘ahs’ that sounded at her announcement.  These were sweet little demons.

    Harry walked up as the kids dispersed.  “So, it’s going down tonight, huh?”

    “Yep.  Thanks for all of your help on this one.  I won’t be going back to the house.  Usual drill,” she explained.

    “Cool.  Gonna be a lot of bloodshed?” he asked.

    Buffy just turned to him with a wide, wicked smile and winked.  “See ya, Harry!” she called out over her shoulder as she walked away.

    Harry shook his head and laughed.  It was a damn shame she wasn’t a horizontal three-holer.

    Buffy drove home, quelling the anticipation that was rising up in her.  She was so close.  So damn close to getting him out of there.  She was also trying to prepare herself for what the full bonding dose would be like.  She pulled into the garage and shut the engine of the car off as she hit the automatic button to close the door.  When it was pitch black inside of the room she switched her eyes over to the amber glow of the vampire.  She could see perfectly.  This was the kind of thing she’d expected.

    She got out of the car and let herself into the house.  Throwing the keys on the counter, she walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.  Not even bothering to heat it up, she dropped fang and ripped into the packet of blood.  This was the part of the bond that she really hadn’t been prepared for.  She shrugged as she finished the blood and tossed the packet into the trash.  What’s done is done.

    She put her ‘Spike’ outfit back on.  The hosts checked for weapons so she didn’t bother with any.  Nothing overt; but Buffy had been very aware of the metal dictator she had to pass through in order to go down to the basement level where Spike was kept.  The upper level looked like a warehouse, any warehouse.  There were lots of boxes all around.  Buffy figured they probably ran an ‘import’ business as well as a sex ring.  The basement area had several doors, but she had the feeling that only Spike was kept in this particular location due to his sunlight issues.  She’d done a little research on the sex-slave trade and discovered that most slaves were kept, not by lock and key, but by blackmail.  Usually it involved threats on the young woman’s or man’s families.  Buffy figured she might have some charity work coming up in the very near future.

    She got in her borrowed car and headed off into the night.  She gave herself some nice, solid meditative reminders on the way to the warehouse that it was fuck first, kill second.  One more ceremonial trip down the orgasm isle and Spike’s chip should be completely inconsequential.  She still wanted to see about getting it out.  Vampire or not, pieces of metal didn’t belong in the brain.  Reaching a moderate level of calmness and self control, she arrived at her destination and shut the engine off.

    The door to the warehouse was standing open with her usual ‘host’ waiting.  She never bothered to learn his name.  In her mind he was just another dead man walking.  She supposed she could have supplied him with a number, but then again she really didn’t want to have to rely on any order.  The random killing of whoever she could get her hands on first was pretty much the style she was going for tonight.  Except for ‘Priest Guy’.  She was reserving a special killing moment just for him.  She’d come that night, sensing Spike’s ire, slipping into the darkness like only a true predator could.  She’d followed the pretender home.  She’d marked him for death.

    “Good evening, Miss Gillson,” another soon to be corpse greeted her.

    Buffy didn’t even bother responding.  She just walked passed him and into the warehouse.  She knew the routine.  Down the steps.  Over to the door.  Wait while the light switch was pressed.  Watch the door open.  And in she goes. 

    The door shut behind her as usual.  It would be the last of this routine.  The thought made her smile.  So did the delectable creature on the bed.  Mine.  All mine.  She slinked her way over to him, removing her own clothing this time.

    Spike watched her.  He couldn’t seem not to.  He knew what was coming.  What he was doing.  It was thrilling.  Tonight would be the night.  Tonight he would have blood and revenge and freedom.  All in one horror embedded passage.  His dick and demon were throbbing for release.  Mine.  All mine.  He watched as she made her way over and bared her flesh along the way.

    There were no words tonight.  Buffy joined him on the bed and carefully took each article of clothing off him.  They’d want them later so no ripping.  Fighting without clothes may seem sexy, but in reality it just provided spots of vulnerability.  No, they would have to exercise control this night.  Save wild abandon for another time.

    When they were both naked, Buffy gently guided him until she was on her back and he was hovering over her.  With the slightest pressure on his shoulders she got him to enter.  Sweet nirvana!  She could have an eternity of this and still not be satisfied.  She released the blade on the pathetic pocket knife she held in her hand.  This time she drew a shape around her heart, then around Spike’s.  As their blood flowed, she pulled him tightly to her, mingling their fluids.

    Spike tensed as the last of the ritual began to take over.  He left his body as usual.  Hovering in another space.  This time Buffy was hovering with him.  He felt himself move into her until they were one.  Their spirits combined just as their bodies combined below.  It seemed to last for hours, though it was only minutes. 

    They came back into their bodies with a new knowledge.  They were a creature reborn; a whole in two parts.  They broke away and reached for their clothes, each dressing the other unerringly, never once looking to see what their hands were doing.  Not needing to. When they were done, Spike rocked her back to the door as he had on the two previous nights.  This time she would not be leaving alone.  She would never be alone again.  Spike would make sure of it.


Chapter 10


    The door opened.  Buffy stepped through, Spike hot behind her.  The guard shook his head in annoyance.  “Back in your cell, vampire,” he said in a voice of extreme boredom.

    Spike stepped through the door and leaned against the wall.  “Make me,” he said with a confident grin.

    Now, the muscled moron had never come up against a supernatural creature before except this one neutered vampire.  So, when he cracked his beefy knuckles and cocked backed his fist, he was prepared for some bone crunching, some screaming, and a bit of blood.  He wasn’t prepared for it to be his own, however.

    The punch hit Spike square in the solar plexus.  He flinched and put a hand up, “Ouch.  I think it was ‘ouch’,” he turned to Buffy.  “Did that hurt?”

    Buffy cocked her own fist back.  “You know, honey.  I think it was more like this,” she let it fly into the same spot that the buffoon had hit Spike.  Bones crunched, screams sounded, and blood poured.  “There.  Now that was a worthy ‘ouch’,” Buffy declared as the man slid to the ground, spending the last of his life’s blood on the concrete floor.

    Buffy looked up at Spike with a smile.  “Okay, who’s next?” she asked with glee.

    Spike pulled her to him, “Fuck, baby. You really know how to get my juices going.”  

     She gave him a quick kiss as she heard the pounding of footsteps coming down the stairs.  “Ditto,” was all she had time for as she swung herself around and greeted their guests.

    “So nice of you to join the party,” she said sweetly.

    One of the guards yelled to the other, “She must be a vamp!  Fuck!  We need a stake or something!”

    Spike and Buffy both started laughing.  Even without his ability to bite, these idiots hadn’t figured out that keeping a few pointed wooden objects around might be a good idea.  Underestimation.  The downfall of the truly stupid.  Not needing a signal, Buffy and Spike moved as one.  They fell upon the guards, quickly disarming them as they ripped them apart. 

    Spike was having the time of his life.  He’d always enjoyed a challenging kill, but this went beyond that.  This was killing with purpose.  As he sucked the blood from the last of his opponents, he looked across the room to see Buffy doing the same.  He felt his dick harden painfully.  She was glorious.  Covered in blood and gore.  She was like a queen.  His queen.  He suddenly realized how very wrong he’d been about Drusilla all these years.  She’d never been his equal.  He’d known that, but somehow he’d thought it was him who was lacking.  Now he knew differently.  Now he knew it was her.  This before him, this creature of sex and power, was his mate.  She was made for him.

    Buffy dropped the dead body of the last of the guards and walked toward Spike.  The look on his face was one she’d never seen before.  She couldn’t put a name to it, couldn’t possibly suspect the emotion.  All she knew was that she had to get to him.  To touch him.  To join him.  She reached him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and stuck out her tongue to lap up the blood on the side of his mouth.

    Spike laughed as he did the same to her, laving away at the blood that had smeared across her face.  “My little one’s a messy eater,” he said huskily.

    “Need practice,” she purred as she rubbed herself against him.

    “I’d love to show you a thing or two, babe, but right now we have more pressing matters.  Company,” Spike told her.

    Buffy cocked her head to listen to the sounds above.  Ah, the troops had arrived.  More goons.  Good.  Plus, there were one or two paper pushers hiding above them.  “Let’s go upstairs.  I want some space.  You just can’t throw anyone around properly in this cramped hallway,” she said.

    “Agreed, luv.”  Spike took her by the arm, as any gentlemen would, and led his lady upstairs.  The warehouse would have appeared deserted to a human, but to the vampires it was filled with prey.  There were at least seven heart beats.  Two were in offices.  Five were spread out across the floor.

    “They’ll have guns, baby.  Be careful,” Spike warned as they broke apart to circle the warehouse.

    “I can dodge with the best of them, big boy,” Buffy sassed quietly.

    Duane wasn’t worried.  He’d been told that they were dealing with a couple of vampires.  He and his coworkers had been called from three other locations.  Usually the most they ever had to do was stand around and look intimidating.  The only action he’d ever gotten was to occasionally rough some louse up who thought they could get the goods without completing payment.  It had been years since he’d even had that pleasure.  Ever since they’d moved over to pre-electronic payment.  Technology sucked sometimes.  But now, here was his chance.  He could really let loose on these things.  Vampires.  He wouldn’t have believed it if it weren’t for having done a sit in on the monitor last week.

    Crouching behind a stack of boxes he wondered what everyone was waiting for.  He wanted some action, and he wanted it now.  Losing patience, he stepped out from position.  “Here, little vampy, vampy.  Uncle Duane’s got some metal for you to eat.  Aren’t you hungry?”

    “Not really, I already ate,” a soft feminine voice sounded from beside him.

    He turned, startled.  It was the blonde from last week.  She was a hot little number and he’d really enjoyed watching her get it on with the vampire.  He gave her a smile.  “I got something else you can eat, sugar,” he said suggestively as he grabbed his cock.

    Buffy let her fangs descend, immediately regretting her action as she smelled ‘Uncle Duane’s’ reaction.  A look of disgust settled over her face.  “Eww!  That’s just.  Eww!”  She reached out and snapped his neck.  Damn.  She’d thought that one would want to play.  It was funny how sometimes the cokiest were the first to fall.  She shrugged and went in search of something that would actually fight back.

    Spike was finding the same problem Buffy was.  These dicks had no kicks.  They were as easy to pick off as missionaries fleeing a rebellion.  The thoughts of revenge were starting to pale.  At this point he just wanted them all dead so he could take off with his girl and mate with her properly.  Mate with her for days.  None of this out of body crap.  And no pocket knives.  He wanted to feel it as his fangs sank through her sweet flesh.  He snapped another neck and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.  Three heart beats left.  Nope.  Two.  Buffy’d gotten her chance at a good throw.  Good on her.

    “Ready for the pushers, luv?” Spike called out.

    “Ready, baby,” she answered appearing by his side.

    “You’re really getting that stealth thing down,” Spike said proudly.

    “I am.  Hey, wait a minute!  I was stealthy before.  I snuck up on you.  That one time in the factory?  Remember?” she reminded him as they headed towards the sound of beating hearts and the stench of fear.

    “Yeah, you did, but you had the Great Poof with you.  Probably fed off of his stealthiness.  He may be an all out jackass, but he knows his business.  Or at least he used to,” Spike muttered, thinking of the damn chip.

    Buffy slipped a hand in his.  “He’s done wrong by you, Spike.  I told him as much.  We can go home and kick his ass if you’d like?”

    Spike looked down at her.  She was really with him.  Him.  It was a wonder.  “Naw, ‘d rather just go home and fuck you every way imaginable, kitten.”  He gave her a thoughtful look.  “If grandpa is in hearing and smelling distance, so much the better.”

    Buffy laughed.  “I’ll see if that can be arranged.”

    They walked into the office and they both threw knowing looks at the bathroom door.  They walked up and Spike reached out to turn the handle.  “Gee, baby, it’s locked.  Whatever will we do?”

    “We could just crush it in our hands.  Ooh, I know!” Buffy yelled excitedly.  “We can tear the door off its hinges.”

    “A little overly dramatic, but anything for my girl,” Spike said as he proceeded to do just that.  Two human screams rent the air as the door splintered and was thrown back against and out the flimsy office wall.

    Buffy spotted the two humans holding desperately on to one another as if that would somehow help them.  “Ms. Carter, I could not be more pleased that you are here to see if I enjoyed my little trip,” Buffy said cheerily.

    “We… we thought he had to bite you to turn you.  We had no idea this could happen,” the woman cried.

    Buffy laughed.  “Silly girl!  You have no idea what you are dealing with,” she reached down and lifted the woman up by her glossy hair.  “I’m not a vampire.  ‘William’ didn’t turn me.  I turned him!” Buffy growled, flashing fang.  “You made a colossal mistake taking him.  He’s mine.”  Buffy threw the trembling woman against a desk and then pounced on her, holding her down with her legs as she straddled her.  She pulled the little pocket knife out of her pants.  “There is something I’ve just been dying to do,” Buffy admitted as she used the knife to create an extra-wide smile on the woman’s once lovely face.  “That is so much better,” Buffy said loudly, trying to be heard above the woman’s constant screaming.

    Spike stood over her shoulder, having killed the git in the bathroom.  “Nice work, luv.  This is the bitch that got me in the bar.  A guy goes out to let loose his woes and she jumps on him, sics a couple of goons on him, and proceeds to suck out his juices.  There’s more than one type of vampire in this world,” Spike said menacingly.

    Buffy threw the knife into the wall, embedding it.  “Your turn, baby.  Show her what a master can do.”

    Spike reached his fingers in agonizing slowness into the woman’s soft flesh, until he had his hands buried deeply in her guts.  “Smarts, don’ it?” he said evenly.  He pulled his hand out.  “Not gonna survive this, sugar.  But you will have a good hour to atone for any sins you might happen to think of.  Have fun,” he told the dying woman as he took Buffy’s hand in his own.

    “Home, luv?” he asked as they made their way out of the warehouse.

    “Not yet, baby.  We have one more stop to make,” Buffy told him.  “I feel like confessing.”




Chapter 11


            “Please tell me this isn’t your car, Slayer,” Spike said as he slipped into the passenger seat.

            Buffy just laughed.  “Hardly!  This belongs to Melinda.  We’ll need to take this in and pick up my ride after we visit Father O’Brian.”

            Spike looked down at the floorboard.  “I appreciate the thought and all, luv, but you don’t have to do this.  It’s enough that I’m free,” he told her.

            Buffy’s hand slipped into his.  “It’s not enough for me.  Let’s do this one, then we’ll head to Harry’s – my mage.  Once we get home we can work on systematically hunting everyone whoever touched you or even looked at you without your permission down.  Okay?”

            Spike shifted in his seat so he could look at her.  “This bond thing is making you a mite bit vicious, innit?”

            Buffy gave him a wicked smile.  “I was vicious before, Spike.  I’m not exactly a teenager any more, you know.  I’ve grown up over the years.  Learned a thing or two about right and wrong.  Namely, that it’s highly relative.”

            “So it’s not just my blood and my demon that are making you all feisty?” Spike asked playfully as she sped them through the night.

            “Well, they certainly help.  I don’t feel as different after the completion as I was afraid I would.  I feel more connected with you, but I don’t feel like going out and eating random strangers or anything,” Buffy confessed.

            “Know what you mean, I was worried I’d have a …” Spike stopped his sentence in horror as he placed his hand above his heart.  “Fuck me!” he yelled.

            “What?” Buffy yelled back in concern, trying to look at him and still keep her eyes on the road.  “What’s wrong?”

            “I’ve got a heart beat!” he cried in horror.

            Buffy laughed again.  “You are just now noticing that!  Somebody’s off his game!  Put your game face on,” Buffy instructed him.

            Spike shifted and immediately his heart beat stilled.  His entire body stilled as it was supposed to.  He shifted back.  It all came alive again.  “That’s… that’s going to take some time to get used to.”

            Buffy squeezed his hand.  “Tell me about it!  Although, I can say I noticed it right away,” she bragged.

            “Well aren’t you just the smart one!  I’da noticed ‘cept someone had my senses all confused.  I was having trouble telling where you began and I started.  Know what I mean?” Spike asked, a tad bit of insecurity sneaking into his voice.

           “I know exactly what you mean,” Buffy assured him.  Then her mind took hold of its own insecurities.  “Listen, Spike, this bond is permanent but it doesn’t mean you have to stay by my side for all eternity or anything.  I didn’t do this to make you a captive again.  I did it to free you,” she explained.

            Spike pulled his hand out of hers.  “So I’m just supposed to toddle off now, that it?”

            “I want you to be free,” Buffy said passionately.  She took a big breath of courage and went on, “But, and I’m going to lay everything out on the table here, I’d like it very much if you’d choose to stay with me.  I have a good home.  Plenty of work.  I’m… I don’t know what exactly I’m trying to say.  I guess I didn’t think this whole thing through.  I just heard ‘Spike’s in trouble’ and I went all Slayery,” she finished lamely.

            “Why exactly is that?  Why did you come for me?” Spike asked.

            Buffy was about to answer but she caught sight of the little asshole who’d messed with Spike heading down the street, priest’s costume firmly in place.  “We’ve got business to conduct,” Buffy said as she pulled the car to the curb, slipping into game face and out of humanity while Spike did the same.

            They got out of the car and slipped effortlessly into the shadows.  They tailed the not-so-good father down the street.  They let him get two blocks down the deserted residential lane before they started to play.

            Allan’s job was a bore.  Allan’s life was a bore.  He had no real friends.  People always seemed to be uncomfortable around him, and other than that one time he’d been with the adolescent daughter of one of his parent’s friends the only sex he’d ever gotten he’d had to pay for.  That last time.  With the vampire.  That had been the best.  The sweetest.  The feeling of power he’d held over that creature had made his often flaccid cock hard and ready.  He was desperate to replicate the experience somehow.  He had his cross and he even had real holy water this time.  He couldn’t afford to go back to the agency; it had wiped out every penny of his savings as it was.  So here he went wandering the streets of Los Angeles, hoping to come across a blood sucking creature of the night.  He had to get out of his own neighborhood first, however.  He seriously doubted there would be any vampires in this sleeper community.

            “Father – father – father” a sound echoed all around Allan.  He turned his head to the side, trying to catch where it had come from.  “Bless me - bless me – bless me” it echoed again.  Allan turned in a circle and gripped his cross tightly.  He picked up his pace, suddenly desperate to reach a crowded intersection with lots of lights and lots of people. “Save me - save me - save me” another echo sounded.

            “Who’s there!” he called out, his voice wound tight.

            “Father – father – father” the voice echoed again.

            “This isn’t funny!” Allan yelled.  “Show yourself!”  His only response was to feel something brush across his neck.  He turned around wildly, trying to catch whatever it was.  Nothing.  Another brush across his neck.  He turned back around.  Something brushed his penis this time, and the need to run overcame him.  So he ran.  He ran and he ran, but the brushing did not stop.  Eventually an uneven portion of sidewalk, some neglected victim of a past earthquake, rose up to trip him.  Down he went.  Onto the hard concrete.  His lip split.  His nose mashed.

            “Need help, Father O’Brian?" Spike asked holding out a hand.

            “William,” Allan muttered.  Pleased to see the vampire.  If he’d been honest with himself, he would have admitted that this is what he really wanted.  Not just any vampire.  This vampire.  He put his hand in William’s and let himself be pulled to a stand.

            “Thank you,” Allan muttered looking at the black clad vampire with longing.

            “No, thank you,” Spike said as he shifted into game face.  “You were so kind to me the other night.  Letting me suck you off.”

            Fear like rotten milk churned up inside of Allan.  Somehow in his mind his experience with the vampire had been mutually rewarding.  It was just dawning on him that there might have been an error in his thinking.  He tried to step backwards but he found himself against a brick wall.  His arms pinned to his side.

            Buffy stood like a statue, with a vice-clamp around the pretender’s arms.  She wasn’t saying a word.  She was just holding him still.  This was Spike’s moment, not hers.

            Spike raised his arm up and made a fist.  “I’m going to return the favor, Father,” he said as he placed his fist against the man’s mouth, using his other hand to pry his jaw open.  “Suck this,” Spike hissed as he proceeded to shove his entire arm down the man’s mouth, choking him and destroying his insides as he went.  He gave his arm a hard jerk after letting the man twitch around and gasp, snapping bones so hard that fragments were sent flying into the man’s brain, killing him instantly.    Spike pulled his arm out with a look of utter disgust, dropping the useless carcass to the ground.  “Pillock!”

            “Let’s get to Harry’s, baby,” Buffy said tenderly.  “Get you cleaned up and go home.”

            They walked back to the car and drove to the Mage’s in utter silence.  Buffy steered the car into an underground parking garage.  After several turns she whispered, “Epaire,” and the wall before them rose up, revealing another parking area.  Buffy pulled in and the door lowered behind them.  She parked the car next to a black Jeep.  “That’s our car,” Buffy said nodding to the black beauty.  “It can get you in and out of canyons but it doesn’t get the notice of something bigger and flashier like a Hummer.  It’s a good assassin’s car,” she told him.

            Spike turned to look at her with a wide smile.  “You know you’re my dream girl, right?”

            Buffy blushed.  “No.  I didn’t.  Does this mean you might be thinking of staying?” she asked.

            Spike laughed.  “Never thought for a moment of anything but,” he promised.

            Buffy looked at him with a wide smile and let out a breath.  “Oh, good.”

            Before she could say anything more a man appeared at the car window.  “Sorry,” Harry said.  “I couldn’t wait a minute longer.  I just had to meet the man who swept my girl off her feet.”

            Spike immediately shifted into game face and gave a vicious growl.

            Harry backed up with his hands in the air.  “Okay, bad choice of words.  Your girl, obviously.”

            Spike calmed a bit, but couldn’t seem to loose the bumpies.  His demon didn’t like a male this close to it’s… not mate, not yet.  Spike opened the car door when Buffy did.  “Sorry.  Feeling a little funny,” Spike apologized.

            “No offence here.  I read over that little bonding spell Buffy used and it is guaranteed to pack a wallop.  I really should have known better.  Now, by the smell and look of you two a shower and a change of clothes is in order.  Follow me, and welcome to my home,” Harry said kindly.

            “Harry’s a nice guy, Spike.  Plus, he’s totally incompatible with a human or vamp female,” Buffy said to Spike as they followed the strange demon into his posh lair.

            “Really?” Spike said with interest.  “Incompatible how?”

            Buffy held up three fingers and then placed them on her abdomen.  Spike’s eyebrows rose.  “Wow,” he whispered.  "Dating must be a bitch."

            Harry knew damn well they were discussing him, but chose to ignore it as he escorted them into the guest area of his home.  “Everything you need should be in here,” he said graciously, letting them pass by.

            “Thanks, mate,” Spike said, pointing at his face, “Sorry for this, just can’t seem to get rid of it around you.”

            “Honestly, it’s fine.”  Harry closed the door, allowing them their privacy.  He recognized the vampire.  William the Bloody.  His little Slayer didn’t just go off and bond with any old vampire.  She went straight for the demon communities finest.  Figures.


Chapter 12


    The two lovers enjoyed showering together immensely, but that was all they did.  They could each feel the exhaustion of the other and they decided to head straight down to San Diego as soon as they were cleaned up.  

    Once they were dressed and had said their goodbyes they got into the Jeep and headed towards home.  Spike was driving and trying to stay awake at the same time.  “Hit the stereo for me, would you, luv?”

    Buffy roused herself enough to hit the play button.  Immediately, the soulful sound of a female songstress came flowing out the speakers.  “Too girly.  Got anything else?  I’m trying to stay awake here,” Spike told her.

    “Oh, sorry,” Buffy mumbled.  “That was Melinda music.  I was getting into character.  My CD obviously, so I do like her, but I listen to other stuff, too,” Buffy said, defending her musical tastes.

    Spike grinned.  Pricking her ire was always a great way to stay awake.  “Oh, yeah?  Let me guess -- Bette Midler and Celine Dion with the occasional Harry Connick Junior kicked in to spice things up?”

    Buffy sputtered.  “What!  I so have broader tastes than that!”  She rifled through her CD collection, dying to find something to wipe that knowing smirk off his face.  Got it.  Perfect.  She took the CD out of its red, black, and white cover and put it in the player.  Immediately, hard driven sounds came rushing into the car and a husky female voice began to challenge the ears of the listeners.

    Buffy watched Spike try and not react.  She could feel through the bond how much he liked it.  She could see with her eyes the way his pinkies, hovering just off the steering wheel, struggled to keep still.  “Oh, just admit already!  You like this.  The Distillers rock!  Especially on Coral Fang.”

    Spike couldn’t hide his grin any longer.  He let it go wide and started moving his head in rhythm to the music.  “Good stuff, luv.  Right good stuff.”

    Buffy felt her earlier sleepiness recede as she started to move along with Spike.  Soon the Jeep was swerving ever so slightly as they sailed along the 5 freeway towards their destination.

    Eventually the couple reached the high rise condo complex where Buffy lived.  Spike loved San Diego.  Good weather.  A variety of eating.  He pulled into the parking space Buffy directed him to and shut off the engine.  “Do we need to bring the CD in with us, luv?  Am I likely to find more of your girly, sensitive crap upstairs?”

    She just looked at him with her head cocked in an eerily familiar fashion.  “Maybe.  That a problem, vampire?”

    Spike leaned forward and pulled her to him for a rough kiss.  “I think you’re full of problems, baby, and I’m just the man to solve them.”

    She laughed into his kiss.  Completely unable to deny a word he said.  “Let’s go.  Mommy and dear old gramps will be waiting.  They can feel us coming, can’t they?”

    Spike thought about it.  “Yeah, might be able to.  I can vaguely sense them, but then again I’m trying.  Don’t know if they’ll have a clue about you though, kitten.  The new vamp you, that is,” Spike told her as he let her go and hopped out of the car.

    Buffy reached into the back seat to grab her trusty backpack.  “They have some idea.  I kind of had a panic thingy after the first time and I called them.  Dru talked me down.  I had to physically force myself not to come back in and blow everything by trying to pull you out of there with your chip still functioning.”

    Spike turned to her and looked into her deep green eyes.  “You’re something, Slayer.  You know that?”

    Buffy couldn’t help the puppy dog expression that came over her face.  “You make me feel like something,” she admitted sheepishly.

    “Good,” Spike said as he they walked hand in hand to the elevator.  They rode up in silence, just leaning against one another.  Several of Buffy’s neighbors were heading off to work as the sun was just beginning to chase the night away.  They were safe inside these walls, however.  Sunlight was something they’d have to test out later.  

    The elevator doors opened up to the 14th floor and they stepped out and walked down the hall.  Buffy stopped them before her unit.  “Well, this is it.  Welcome home, Spike,” she said as she punched her code in and the door opened.

    They walked in and shut the door behind them only to discover two vamps, sitting patiently on the living room sofa awaiting them.  Spike had to force himself not to shift and start growling like a mindless idiot at Angel.  Buffy’s tiny hand slipped inside his, helping to ground him.  For just a moment he could swear he felt her slip right inside of his skin, caressing him from the inside out.

    “Nice heartbeat,” Angel said sardonically.

    Spike had forgotten all about that.  A smile stole over his face.  Suddenly, he didn’t mind his slight case of humanity.  “Yeah, picked up a few things while I was gone, mate,” Spike said as he slipped his arm around the beautiful girl beside him for emphasis.

    “Angel, I know this is a lot to take in, and I should have prepared you, but…” Buffy began trying to ward off a pissing contest.

    “Save it.  I pretty much figured the Spike thing out.  I mean first there was you being immediately all gung-ho to run off and rescue the blonde pest.”  He broke off his speech as a pained look settled on his face.  “Then there was this.”  He set a long cylindrical object on the coffee table.

    “Angel!  How could you!” Buffy yelped in horrified embarrassment, immediately trying to dispatch herself from Spike so she could hide the incriminating object.

    Spike wasn’t about to let her go, however.  “So the Slayer has a robo-dick.  Big deal.  Not that she’ll be needin’ it now with her Spike around.”

    Angel reached out a hand and turned the controversial object twenty degrees.  “Apparently, she’s already had a Spike around.”

    Spike’s keen eyes zeroed in on the engraving.  “Bloody hell!” he uttered in shock.  “That’s my name!  You named your sin cylinder after me?” He looked down at the girl struggling to get free in his arms.

    “It was… It’s just that… Yes!  Okay, yes.  I did,” she cried in a sudden burst of anger.

    Spike picked her up, forcing her legs to wrap around him.  He started towards what he hoped was the bedroom, stopping along the way to pick the vibrator up from the coffee table.  “Give me that!” he yelled as he grabbed it.  “Gonna get your Angel germs all over it.”

    Buffy kept her red face buried in Spike’s shoulder.  She couldn’t remember ever being so humiliated before in her life.  She let Spike carry her back to her bedroom.  She could feel him shut the door and carry her over to the bed.  Then he laid her gently down on the mattress.

    Spike held the silver object in the air.  “This is the single sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me,” he told her as he tossed the object onto the floor.

    “It was kind of more for me than you,” Buffy admitted still blushing.

    Spike smiled at her.  “Gonna do this right this time, my kitten.  None of that mumbo jumbo crap.  Just you and me, Buffy.  Got it?”

    He said her name.  It did funny things to her insides.  She could only nod dumbly back at him.

    Spike leaned down and began to remove her clothes, desperate to get to the flesh underneath.  The soft Buffy flesh.  Skin that glided beneath his, promising things.  Dark things.  Forever things.  As he pulled the last scrap of material from her body he lowered his face to rest on her belly and let out a deep sigh.

    He lay there soaking in her scent.  Feeling the gentle rise and fall of her abdomen.  “Do you have any idea what this means to me?” he whispered, lips barely brushing against the fine hairs on her belly.

    Buffy ran her fingers through his curly, blonde mass of hair in a caressing motion.  “I don’t know, Spike.  I don’t know you – yet.  But I want to,” she sighed.  “Oh, how I want to.  I have all of these thoughts, these images that have made up a Spike in my head.  The way you used to look at Drusilla.  The way you suffered her imperfections.  The way you defied your nature for your passions. And the way your body moved.  The way it felt whenever it pressed against mine – fist or foot – it all hit the same place inside of me.  You were my secret shame for so very long.  But I’m not ashamed anymore, Spike.  I want to know the real you, and I want you to know me.  All of me.  I’m yours, Spike.  If you want me, I’m yours.”

    Spike had pictured it so differently in his head, but her words moved him in ways he hadn’t thought possible.  He’d imagined how this would go over the last week.  His bite.  His first mark as he laid it upon her.  In his minds’ eye he always had them naked.  Flesh to flesh.  And he was embedded inside of her, pumping her, pushing her towards orgasm.  It wasn’t going to happen that way, however.

    He felt his bones realign.  His body became still.  He rubbed his face against the tenderness of her skin, his nose making a furrow.  He nuzzled the edge of her stomach, the place between the ribs and the pelvic bone.  The soft place.  The near place.  He opened his jaws and ran his tongue along the spot.  He moved a hair’s breath closer.  Ever closer to her.  He had a full mouth of sharp teeth.  Far more than just his canines, but his canines were the first to slip in, to puncture the skin and make the slide down in a terrible slowness.  When they were buried, the other teeth followed with one clamp of the powerful muscles in his jaws.  

    Then he just held her there.  He held her, aware of every nuance in the moment.  The room.  Its furnishings.  The sounds of music coming from the living area.  The faint sound of traffic from the street far below.  The smell of the fabric softener on the sheets.  The old smell of Buffy in the room, and the smell of her now beneath him, surrounding him inside and out.  He held her still until he was sure that no portion of this moment would ever escape him.  Then he began to suck.

    Buffy lay underneath him, her fingers continuing their exploration of his hair as he held her with his mouth, being sure of her.  When he began to suck, she could feel it, just like she’d always felt him, in the core of her being.  Her sex and so much more.  It was as if he pulled at every last cell that made her who she was.  Her orgasm grew, but never blossomed.  It sat their waiting.  Waiting for him.

    Spike finally let go and looked up at her with unshed tears in his amber eyes.  “Mine.”  It wasn’t growled out.  It wasn’t even declared.  It was a soft reverent wonder.  Spoken awe.

    Buffy’s own eyes filled with a mirrored emotion.  “Yeah, baby.  Yours.”  A sob took her by surprise.  “I’m yours.  Only yours.  Oh, Spike.  I’m… I’m in love with you,” she cried.

    Spike closed his eyes and returned to his human mask and his newly beating heart.  His blue eyes stared into her green.  “I love you, Buffy.  Love you like I’m just beginning to understand what love really is.”

    “Show me Spike.  Show me how we are together,” she begged, pulling him up to claim his lips with her own.

    Never breaking the kiss, Spike removed his own clothes until they were finally pressed together skin to skin.  He entered her with the same since of cherishing that he had bitten her with.

    Buffy’s hips rose up to meet his.  “Mine.  Mine,” she chanted over and over again.  “Need you, Spike.  I need…”

    Spike knew what she needed.  “You need to finish the mating claim, sweetheart.  Bite me.  Bite me, Buffy,” Spike moaned.

    Buffy felt her face involuntarily shift and her teeth grow razor sharp.  Spike tilted his head, offering up his neck, offering up Drusilla’s marks to her.  With a gasp she shoved herself against him and bit down, sucking his rich blood into her greedy mouth.  “Mine,” she whispered against his neck.

    Spike turned his head, taking her with him, until he was able to angle himself over Angel’s marks.  “Yours,” he agreed as he bit into her again.  And the claim was complete.  The mating done.  The lives yet to be lived.



The End.





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