Can I Keep You?

by candyknicks

I’ve always wanted to write a dark, erotic historical, so here it is.

Vampire Spike meets would be-prostitute Buffy on the streets of Victorian England. He takes her home, fully intending to kill her after he’s had his way with her, but finds he can’t let her go. A dark, erotic obsession ensues, but in the end, who’s keeping who prisoner?

I need to know if people like this sort of Spuffy, if you do I’ll keep writing. Will definitely be NC17 btw….

Chapter 1

He sat, a quiet, lonely figure, in a shady corner of the tavern. Talking to no one save a curt word to the wenches who served the ale, his dark, blue eyes scanning the room, picking out his latest victim. He’d been there a good half an hour by his reckoning and had already decided that he could do no better tonight than the sad –looking young man a few tables down, who sat slumped over his beer mug, his head in his hands, the picture of abject misery.

Man or woman, it made no difference to him, their blood tasted the same. And there was sport to be found in either gender. They both screamed like babies when they saw his true face, and they both moaned and clawed at him like animals when he had them. He could make them forget that they were about to die. Some even died with a smile on their face.

He was just about to rise when he spotted a blonde head across the crowded room. Nothing unusual in itself, the room was full of women, some of them blonde, some of them not. Most of them here for the same reason. He usually steered clear of them for it was far too risky to eat a prostitute these days. Drew far too much attention to the existence of creatures of the night, like him. But somehow, for a reason he couldn’t define, this one seemed different.

He could smell her fear, and the blood that pounded in her veins, as she nervously approached a table full of drunken sailors. One of them pulled her down onto his lap and plastered his mouth over hers in a sloppy kiss, his hand groping her breast, while the others laughed and egged him on. The kiss lasted so long that the girl seemed in danger of being suffocated. He saw her hand come up to flail uselessly at the sailor’s back until eventually he let her go. Reaching into his pocket the sailor brought out a coin and held it up in front of her frightened eyes.

The girl stared at it for a moment then she gave a brief nod and turned for the door. The sailor rose, adjusted his pants, and to the cheers of his friends, followed her out.

“Your lucky night,” the vampire whispered to the young man as he walked past him towards the entrance. The young man looked up at him, bleary eyed and then slumped down on to the table. The vampire laughed and let himself out into the misty night. Something better’s come up, he thought as he scanned the alley to see which way they’d gone. He could still smell them, terror and arousal, and he knew they weren’t far away. He found them just around the corner, in a doorway, the man with his cock hanging out of his breeches, the girl in tears now. The front of her dress was open, her pale breasts exposed and it looked very much as if she’d changed her mind.

The sailor hadn’t though. He groped at the hem of her dress, hauling it up her thigh, even as she tried to pull it down again. Protesting all the while that it had all been a big mistake and she shouldn’t be doing this.

The vampire watched for a moment wondering whether he ought to intervene before or after the sailor had had his way. Normally it wouldn’t have bothered him. The more frightened the girl, the better. Made the blood richer. But tonight for some reason known only to fate he didn’t want to watch this oaf violate this girl who was almost certainly a virgin. Perhaps that’s all it was? The thought that if she was a virgin, then he wanted that pleasure before he killed her. It was far too much of a delicacy to pass up on.

She spotted him at last as he watched, her eyes widening in silent appeal. And so did the sailor.

“Wait your turn,” he said aimiably, “this won’t take long.”

“No, I don’t suppose it will,” the vampire said, stepping in and taking the man by the throat. There was a crunch and a thin gurgling sound and the sailor fell to the floor with a thud.

The girl gathered the remnants of her torn dress to her chest and stared in disbelief at the body.

“Won’t be bothering you any more, love. Change your mind did you?”

She nodded, her eyes flickering between him and the body of the sailor at her feet. Looking at him as if he was the devil himself to dispatch one so big with such ease.

She wasn’t far wrong, he thought.

“But you need the money?” the vampire said.

She didn’t have to answer that one, her eyes said it all.

“I have money,” the vampire said ignoring the pull of the dead sailor’s blood. Why spoil his appetite with that when this tasty feast was his for the taking?

The girl bit her lip.

“Wouldn’t your rather have me, than him,” the vampire said taking a handful of coins from his pocket. He took the girl’s hand, carefully keeping his demon in check as she flinched from the contact. Dropping the coins into it, he folded her fingers around it and kept hold.

“I just want to go home,” she said pushing herself back into the wall.

He held her hand a little tighter. “But you can’t, can you?”

“No.”

“At least I’m clean, he said. “Won’t give you the pox like he would have.”

He let go of her then. Let her feel the money. Saw her fear, but saw her desperation too.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he said his voice silky and persuasive.

She opened her hand and stared at the coins once more, then she seemed to reach a decision. Her chin lifted and even though he could see that her hand still shook, she levelled her green-eyed gaze and nodded.

He could have just taken it, of course. Didn’t really need her co-operation, but she was already frightened enough for his purposes. And on some level, whatever male pride he had left to him wanted to make it good for her, as he’d promised. Wanted to hear her moan out his name because of what he’d done to her. Being a vampire didn’t change that and he was more than ready for it.

Ready to take advantage of this young girl who circumstances had driven to sell her body to anyone who had the money to pay. Only at this rate she was going to starve to death before she earned enough from this trade to keep herself.

He was doing her a favour, he thought as he unbuttoned his trousers. What was the alternative for her? Dying on the streets, probably of the pox, or worse being killed by some drunken retard like the corpse now lying at their feet. At least this way it would be quick and it would be clean and she would know pleasure before she died. He’d make sure of that.

She was shaking so much now that he could hear her teeth rattling, and her eyes were bright with tears that were about to spill.

“Not about to change your mind again, are you love?” he asked her thinking what a pitiful sight she made. And a beautiful one, with her tumbled hair and swollen lips from where the oaf had kissed her, and the curve of both breasts clearly visible through her torn gown. Her skin was fine and as yet unmarked and the thought did cross his mind that here was one for turning if ever there was one. That would solve whatever problems she was running from.

But it always seemed to spoil them, somehow. He turned them, promised them the world but always forgot that they were now vampires, and like him, evil. They never stayed, had no ideas of loyalty and invariably broke what was left of his heart. This was better he thought. A warm human who could at least feel something, even if it was only a couple of hours of sexual pleasure and blind terror.

He moved in, hands on her shoulders, his thumbs tracing her soft skin. Felt the stiffening of her muscles as she steeled herself for what she was about to do. She had courage, he had to give her that. Even as she shivered he saw the determination in her eyes.

“Lift your skirts, love,” he told her bending close to her ear. “It’s not going to work, otherwise,” he added with a low chuckle.

“You’re cold,” she whispered. “Why are you so cold?”

“You don’t want to know, love. Shall we dance now?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“It’s a joke,” he said slipping his hand into her bodice and filling it with one of her soft breasts. “Who do I have the pleasure of tonight then?

A startled intake of breath as his hand squeezed gently, turned into a breathy sigh as his thumb brushed her nipple.

“What’s your name, love?” he asked again as his hand came to rest flat over a heart that was pounding so loudly that he could hear it, sending her blood surging wildly around her hot little body. He felt the heat seeping into his fingers and watched in fascination as her life force made them tingle and twitch.

“Buffy.” She managed, at last. “My name is Buffy. Tell me yours.”

“You can call me Spike,” he said fisting the material of her skirt and sliding it up himself. “Have you ever done this before, Buffy? he asked as the look of terror returned.

“Yes,” she said, in a small voice.

“You’re not a very good liar, are you?” He dropped the skirt and started to re-button his trousers.

“Feeling generous tonight, my sweet little Buffy. Your first time shouldn’t be up against a wall in a dirty alley. Come home with me for a few hours and we’ll do it all proper like, in a real bed. What do you say?”

“I can’t come home with you,” she said her hand surreptitiously smoothing down her bunched up skirts. “I don’t know you.”

“I think you’ve chosen the wrong profession, pet. So what are you going to do?” He nodded towards the tavern. “Go back in there?”

Her gaze darted to the tavern, then back to him.

He brought her hand to his lips then, trailed his tongue over her palm, felt the shudder that went through her.

“Just a few hours,” he said. “Best you’ll ever have.”

She arched an eyebrow at that, a spark of the real Buffy showing through. And he didn’t give her time to think. Crushing her hand in his he pulled her along to his waiting carriage and pushed her inside.

He’d told her his name, something he never did. But what did it matter? She sat across from him pressed back into the plush seat, her arms wrapped around herself as she looked around the carriage, at anything, but him. It didn’t matter how much she knew about him because in a few hours she’d be dead.

Or maybe a few days, he thought as he watched her through half-closed eyes. There was something about this one that made him think that perhaps he’d indulge himself a little. It was a long time since he’d kept a human. They were so bloody fragile, so bloody sensitive. He may be a monster, but he was just doing what he had to do to survive. Like the woman sitting opposite him.

Yes, he thought, tilting his head. He was definitely going to make sure that Miss Buffy died with a smile on her face and his name on her lips.

When he’d had enough of her that was……

Chapter 2

Neither of them spoke as the carriage clattered through the night. It was hard to see where they were going, but soon Buffy was aware that the houses were thinning out and they’d left the town behind. Lights no longer shone comfortingly from parlour windows and a terrible sense of foreboding settled over her as she huddled further into the corner of the padded seat.

The man called Spike sat across from her, nothing more than a dark shape. She couldn’t make out his features, but she could see that he was watching her. She had no idea how he could see anything, but she could feel that, as if by some diabolical means he could almost see in the dark. And hadn’t she already thought him the devil back in the alleyway when he’d killed the sailor? Snapped his neck as if it was no more than a twig.

She pulled her torn dress together and held it in place just in case she wasn’t imagining his quiet scrutiny, and shifted her legs so that they no longer brushed against his as he sprawled comfortably back. He made no move to touch her so, after a while, she closed her eyes and mentally steeled herself for what she was about to do. A task she had never imagined would be so hard.

Yes, he looked and smelled a lot better than the sailor and he had saved her from possibly the worst experience of her life, but he was still a man. A man whose money she had accepted and would now expect his due. She wondered with a sinking heart if he would require her to be naked for this, for she had never been naked in front of anyone save her nurse. Back in the alleyway he’d asked her to lift her skirts so perhaps that was all that was required? she thought hopefully. As long as he had access to the parts he needed then all would be well. She’d let him have his way and then the carriage would return her to the tavern. And once she’d had this experience, then surely the next one would not be so bad?

The money was still in her clenched fist and she knew by the weight of it that it would be enough to buy her a new gown. Perhaps if she looked more presentable then she’d pick up a better class of clientele and this life would not be such a terrible one after all? It did not seem so when she thought of the alternative.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the carriage coming to a halt and she leaned anxiously towards the window to see where they’d arrived.

“Not there yet, love.” Spike said, making no move to get up. Just stopping to open the gates.

The action was repeated on the other side and the carriage lurched forward once more, jolting her out of her seat. She would have fallen had Spike’s arm not moved, as fast as lightening, to steady her. He caught her by the forearm in an iron grip that made her flinch. Immediately he loosened it and she pulled away scooting back into the seat once more and wondering with a sinking heart, just what she’d let herself in for. Here was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and who took it without question. As he would undoubtedly take her.

She nursed her throbbing arm, knowing that it would bruise and realising that he was not so different from the sailor in the alley after all. Well spoken and better dressed, but a man buying the services of a whore, none the less. To both of them she was just a commodity to be purchased and used up. Neither of them were required to care about her feelings in the matter. And neither of them had. Yes, Spike had said that her first time shouldn’t be up against a wall in a dirty alley, but she didn’t fool herself that he was thinking of her own comfort when he said that.

The carriage stopped and she found the strength from somewhere to stand. Spike stood too, moving behind her completely at ease in the darkness, very close to her now. He moved as silently as a ghost yet, even though she wasn’t looking at him she could feel him all around her. Feel the power he radiated. She knew he was there, yet she still jumped when he spoke. And when his arm slipped around her waist and pulled her off her feet and hard against him, in one swift movement, her breath left her body in such a rush that she thought she would faint.

Perhaps it was just the fear of what she was going to do? That combined with the iron band of his arm across her chest made the blood pound in her temples, and that for some reason only seemed to excite him more. She felt his face dip into her neck where he inhaled deeply, and then his teeth were scraping lightly over her skin.

“God, you smell good,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’m glad we’re back, been thinking about you all the way. All the things you’re going to do for me. What I’m going to do to you. Can you feel how much I’ve been thinking about you, Buffy?”

How could she not? He was hard, and big against her back and she thought of how the sailor had looked when he’d undone his trousers and exposed himself to her. She’d thought then that it didn’t seem possible that he should be able to put that inside her, and she was thinking it now, for judging by what she could feel. Spike was just as large as he was.

And he seemed to have no idea that he was crushing her as his tongue started to make lazy circles around her ear and he whispered words that might have shocked her, had she not been now at the point of expiring in his embrace.

Struggling only seemed to make him more excited and her arms were trapped, so she used the only weapon available to her, because he now had her so fast that she could hardly draw a breath.. Twisting her head around as far as she could she bit hard into the first bit of flesh her mouth came into contact with, and he released her immediately with a surprised grunt. She sagged forward, her first priority being to take in a few desperate breaths so that she could regain her senses and her second, to jump from the carriage and run as far away as possible, for surely he would be so angry now that he would kill her as quickly as he had done the sailor in the alley?

His deep groan told her how much she’d hurt him, and she’d hardly caught her breath before he had her again, his hand clamping around her neck, just as he’d done with the sailor. And she knew with a calm, certainty that this was the end.

She’d always wondered what death would feel like. And now she knew. It was cold and it was hard and it was unexpectedly lonely. As she stood helpless, waiting for her final moment she felt totally bereft of everything she’d ever held dear. She didn’t even think it worth screaming, for who was there to listen, or care? She almost welcomed it then, for if she could not even keep herself as a whore, then what else was left to her? Where do you go when you’ve already sunk as low as it’s possible to get?

“Do it quickly,” she said squaring her shoulders and staring out into the dark night .

“Oh, no,” death whispered back to her, as it loosened its grip and the cold hard fingers started to wind into her hair. “This is far too much fun for that.”

His arm was around her waist once more, holding her, this time only enough to keep her in place as he pulled on her hair and tipped her head back as far as it would go. She tried to twist round to look at his face, but he’d burrowed his head deep into the curve of her neck, and he had her so firm in his grasp, that all she could do was stare at the roof of the carriage and pray that he would change his mind and make it quick after all.

He’s done this before, she thought suddenly, as he shifted her more comfortably against him in a smooth, practiced manoeuvre that told her she was not the only woman to have suffered this fate at his hands.

Do you hear the crunch and snap of your own bones? she wondered as she waited, with a hammering heart, for him to beak her neck? Or does it happen so fast that you’re dead before the sound reaches your ears? She deserved no less, she thought bitterly. Foolish to even think she could have done this.

It was her last coherent thought before she was gripped by a sensation so sharp and so exquisite that she couldn’t untangle the pain from the shockingly intense pleasure of it. He pushed himself hard against her as she jerked in his arms and a rush of heat, and something she’d never felt before, shot straight from her neck like a lightening bolt down her belly to that place no decent woman ever talked about.

The startled gasp came from her lips, the dark groan from his and it was only then, as she writhed against him and rode out the wave after wave of bliss pooling between her legs, and the coins fell from her fingers to scatter onto the floor, that she realised that he’d bitten her, too.

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For one brief moment Spike felt his control completely slip away as her blood flooded his mouth and he came hard against her, emptying himself into his trousers for the second time since he’d met her. The first time had been just a few moments ago when she’d bitten him, a completely unexpected pleasure and one which would have taken his breath away, if he still needed any.

He managed to pull back his demon, knowing that if he took too much blood now she’d be too weak to do half the things he’d been thinking of on the journey down. And if her response to him biting her was any indication of what the next few days were going to be like, then she was certainly going to die a happy woman.

“Come on, love,” he urged her, suddenly impatient to get on with it. “How about we find that bed, eh? Then Spike’s going to teach you what it’s all about.”

She lolled against him in response and he only just caught her as she fell. Dammit, he thought as he swung her up into his arms. Too bloody impetuous, as usual. He cursed his demon, loudly. Now she was going to probably take hours to recover, and he was already hard again. The carriage door crashed back as he kicked it open, jumped down and strode towards the house. And the front door would have met the same fate had the coachman not jumped down and ran ahead to open it for him.

“Get me a decanter of brandy and some blood,” he barked as he made for the stairs. “And some wine and food for the lady.”

The coachman scrambled away, almost falling over himself in his haste to do his master’s bidding, not in the slightest bit perturbed by the fact that Spike had blood all over his chin and a comatose woman in his arms. Spike took the stairs two at a time, shouldered open a bedroom door, swiftly crossed the room and deposited the still unconscious Buffy into the centre of the quilt.

His demon re - emerged momentarily as he cleaned his chin with the back of his hand and licked it off. Then he turned his attention to the sleeping girl. Clean up the wound first, he thought, bending to lick away the remaining spots of blood and flooding the small cuts with saliva to close them. It would be a simple explanation that she’d cut herself as she’d fallen. Another struggle with his demon ensued as it urged him to just get on with it. Just take her now, it screamed. Why do you need her awake? Drink her, turn her, didn’t her blood taste good?

“Bugger off, going to have some fun with this one,” Spike told it as he hitched himself up on the bed next to Buffy. He un- knotted his tie and shrugged out of his jacket, throwing both onto the floor and then he just looked at her.

She wasn’t a working class chit, that much he could tell. She was pale, but she had been before which meant that she hadn’t spent much time in the sun. And her hands were as smooth as the skin on her face, so she hadn’t done much manual labour to date. He lifted one and inspected the neatly clipped nails and small, slender fingers. It was almost like a child’s hand and he imagined how they’d feel sliding across his skin. He brought it experimentally to his face and stroked it down his cheek. Yes, that felt nice, and would feel so much better when she was actually doing it herself. He put it down again, fingering the red marks he'd left on her arm when he'd grabbed her. So bloody fragile.

The coachman knocked and he called him in without breaking his fascinated scrutiny of the lady before him.

“Light some bloody candles, will you,” he ordered as his fingers trailed across Buffy’s lips. They twitched as he tickled her with a finger so he did it again. She stirred then, and moaned slightly, opening her eyes and staring blankly at him. It was only a split second before realisation dawned, but he had it in hand before she could push herself up, as she’d been trying to do.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “You just want to sleep now, nothing else. I’ll wake you when I need you.”

She rolled her head towards him and her brow furrowed as if she was trying to remember who he was, then her eyes fluttered for a few seconds and closed again.

“Good girl, Buffy,” he told her sleeping form. “You’re a very good girl, I can tell. Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”

It was the hair that had caught his eye in the tavern. A bright, shiny halo still, but it would soon dim to a dull, tangled mess after a few weeks of working the streets. It told him, more so than her hands did, that she hadn’t been out in the world for very long. Perhaps a matter of days. That meant that there would still be people actively looking for her, if she was a runaway, as she undoubtedly was. They could look in vain. This girl was never going to be found, destined as she was to become one of the many people that simply disappeared without a trace.

The candlelight made her hair glow as the coachman set a candlestick on the table next to the bed and when he asked Spike if he would be requiring him again, Spike genially waved him away.

“See what we’ve got in women’s clothes around the house, put them in my bedroom and then I’m not to be disturbed. Go find yourself a snack,” he told him. “But no bringing them back here, you know the rules.”

The coachman disappeared and as he closed the door Spike hopped off the bed and turned the key in the lock. He pulled it out and dropped it into a vase with a grin. Don’t want dinner running away on us, he thought. Now where was I?

“You were going to eat her,” his demon insisted, in a very bad mood now.

“Eventually,” Spike replied. “But not yet.” Her blood had taken the immediate edge off his hunger, leaving him relatively free to continue his leisurely exploration without risk of caving in and killing her too soon.

He had a good sniff of her hair and rubbed it on his face. Learning her scent so that he’d be able to pick it up and know where she was if she did get out of sight of him. He did the same with her skin, burying his head between her breasts which were barely covered by the ripped material of her dress. She still smelled of some kind of flowery perfume, but he caught the more delicate undertones that were essentially Buffy. He nosed the material apart exposing her nipples and wondered if she’d wake up if he had a little taste. Darting his tongue out he circled one very lightly and she shifted restlessly beneath him.

“Like that, do you love?” he asked her softly. “Let’s see what else you like, shall we?”

He placed his hand flat on her belly and moved it in slow circles, tracing the ridge of her corset under the material, moving his hand lower with every stroke until he was over the source of her arousal. His insistent rubbing released even more of her musky perfume so he slowly pulled at her skirts and petticoats until he could see the tangled curls at the apex of her thighs. She gave a small sigh as his fingers swept lightly over her. He delved deeper inside her, bringing them out wet with her juices which he painted carefully on his lips with one finger. Then he crawled back up the bed and placing his mouth on hers, he kissed her long and deep until he felt her moving beneath him.

Her eyes fluttered open once more and this time he let her wake up. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds and then seemed to realise with a start that he was there. He watched her struggle to rise, then fall back against the pillows.

“What happened? She said, fingering the small tear in her neck. “Did I fall?”

“That you did, love,” he said reaching over to pour her a glass of wine. “Cut your neck. I managed to stop the bleeding for you, here drink this.”

She reached for the wine but her fingers were shaking so much that he knew she was going to drop it so he slipped his arm around her and helped her to sit up, then he held the glass to her lips while she sipped at it.

“There you go not too much now.” He said in a soothing tone. “Do you remember what you’re here for?”

Her spine stiffened then, and she scooted out of his embrace, turning to face him as she knelt on the bed.

“You’ll get what you paid for,” she said staring at the palm of her hand as if she’d suddenly realised that she wasn’t holding the coins any more. “Just do it and then I’ll need your coachman to take me back to the tavern. Will he be able to do that?”

Her voice had all but disappeared by the time she’d got to the end of her speech, but Spike wasn’t listening anyway. He was too busy drinking in the sight that she made, with her wild hair and flushed cheeks, and her breasts hanging out of her dress. He could still taste her arousal on his mouth and the smell of her made his nostrils twitch.

They eyed each other across the bed.

“Stay the night,” he said. “I’ll add an extra shilling.”

She looked suitably insulted.

“I’ll require double,” she said lifting her chin as if she had a choice in the matter.

“Double it is then,” Spike said, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth movement.

He eyes seemed to triple in size at the sight of him. He grinned back at her. “Best get started on yours, love,” he said nodding towards her dress as he began unbuttoning his trousers. “Or would you like me to help you?” His hands stilled and he made the smallest of movements towards her. She scooted back, frantically.

“I, I can do it myself,” she said looking down at her bodice and seeming to realise with a start that she was half naked already.

If Spike had had any human pity left in him, then he’d have been feeling it for her just then. Her cheeks were a bright crimson as she sat trying to work out the best way to take off the ruined dress. He could see that despite her bravado she was on the verge of tears and that, in the normal course of events, should have been a bonus for him.

Then why not tonight? He asked himself.

“Bloody hell. Come here,” he commanded her with a crooked finger. She didn’t move, so he went to her instead and deftly took control.

She knelt by dumbly as he expertly stripped off her dress and petticoats, and started on the lacings of her corset. “So many bloody clothes,” he muttered as he threw it to the floor.”

She flinched again as he went for her camisole top. “Alright,” he said holding up his hands. “Take it off later, makes no difference when.”

She flashed him what almost seemed like a look of gratitude for that, and then she said, “what do you want me to do?”

“Do you have a single clue?” he said as he unbuttoned his trousers and with considerable relief, released himself.

She shook her head, her gaze dropping to his impressive erection.

He almost laughed out loud at the look on her face. Oh yes, he thought. He definitely had forgotten how much fun it was keeping a human. And this one, he just knew, was going to be the most fun of all.

tbc...

I'm assuming for this story that Spike's personality is the same as it is on BTVS, present day. That witty, playful little boy aspect of his character just keeps wanting to come out as I write! I'm pretty sure the characters will take over the story and tell it their way, anyway. They always seem to, and already I'm surprised.....hope you're still enjoying.
 

She’d removed her drawers back at the tavern on the advice of another of the working ladies who’d befriended her. The fact that she was wearing any at all had caused much hilarity amongst the women as they’d waited at the harbour for the newly arrived ship to dock.

“Bit of a waste of time, love,” the woman had said with a laugh. “Throw them in the river, you won’t be needing those any more.”

Buffy desperately wished she had them now as her camisole top barely covered her waistline, let alone her private parts.

It was undoubtedly the most embarrassing moment of her life. Spike sat across from her on the bed completely at ease and completely naked. He leaned back to pour himself a brandy and then just sat looking at her as she tried to cover herself as best she could with her hands.

“No,” he waved her hands away. “Don’t do that, let me see you.”

She did as she was told, wishing that he’d get it over with and send her back where he found her. She still hadn’t decided what she was going to do after this, but throwing herself in the river was beginning to look the better alternative.

“Can I have one of those?” she asked pointing to his glass.

He gave a low chuckle and motioned her towards him.

“Come here then,” he said taking a mouthful of the brandy.

She moved tentatively towards him, but when his arm came out to snake around her neck she flinched as she remembered the way he’d grabbed her in the carriage.

He frowned as she ducked away and swallowed the mouthful he’d been holding.

“Now then, love,” he said, wiping away the trickle that had spilled from the corner of his mouth. “Going to need a bit more co-operation than this, if you want to earn anything tonight. Now, come here, I won’t hurt you.”

“You did in the coach,” Buffy said, fingering the marks on her neck. “You were very rough, and you did hurt me.”

Spike frowned, almost as if he was trying to remember what he’d done, and whether it should be of any consequence.

“That’s ‘cos you’re so bloody delicate,” he countered. “Fainted at the slightest thing. Now, do you want this brandy, or not?”

She managed a nod, trying desperately to keep eye contact with his face, although she seemed totally unable to tear her gaze away from his male parts that sat rampant between his thighs.

“Impressed, are we?” he asked her, looking down at himself with considerable pride. That’s going to make you scream tonight, love,” he said as he stroked a finger down the length of it, the tip of his tongue showing through his teeth. “In a good way, of course.”

She watched in awe as it seemed to grow even bigger at his touch and he stopped.

“It’ll fit, don’t worry,” he said catching the look on her face. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for me, now come here.”

“Be gentle,” she said feeling a sudden burst of confidence and then she added, “please,” when his head snapped up and something that wasn’t there before, flashed in his eyes. It was only momentary but what she saw almost made her jump from the bed and run into the dark night, half naked as she was. There was something not quite right about this man who called himself Spike, and it went beyond him just being a potentially violent murderer as she’d thought him in the coach.

She was only beginning to notice it, but the whole house had a still, heavy atmosphere. As if this was a place that the sun never penetrated and where the air never moved. Her eyes flashed around the dimly lit room as the thought popped into her head that if ever there were such things as ghosts, then they would surely live here.

Spike looked around too. “What?” he asked her furrowning his brow.

“Nothing,” she said rubbing her arm as the goose-bumps prickled her skin. How could she have not known how foolish this was? To come to such a remote place with a man who may well be the devil in disguise.

She’d gone mad, she decided. The last few days had driven her to bedlam, and she wasn’t here at all. This was all a dream brought on by a bout of insanity, because why else would she be doing this?

“I can be gentle,” he said snapping her out of her thoughts and reaching for her shoulder. His fingers barely grazed her skin, then slipped under the lacy strap of her top and slowly slid it down. “Is that gentle enough Buffy?” he asked in a silky voice that, combined with the feel of his fingers on her skin, only served to increase the gooseflesh. “Now come here and get your brandy.”

Taking a large sip from his glass he put it down on the table behind the bed and shifted on his knees, positioning himself in front of her and angling his head. His hand reached behind her neck, but she managed to quell the memory of the way he’d held her in the coach since he wasn’t forcing her this time. Rather his fingertips were guiding her towards him and for some strange reason she couldn’t resist.

The devil has blue eyes, she thought as he drew her nearer, and she had no idea what he was going to do until his mouth came down on hers. His fingers threaded into her hair and tipped her head back slightly, again reminding her of what he’d done in the coach. Before she had time to protest, he opened his mouth just a fraction and allowed a trickle of brandy to run into hers. The fiery warmth made her cough as it ran down her throat, but he held onto her with his cool hands and repeated the action, this time following it with his tongue which he brushed over her lips before slipping it in between and pushing it against hers.

“Relax,” he murmured as she coughed again and more brandy filled her. She tried, thinking frantically that his mouth shouldn’t feel as good as it did as it slid over hers and wondering just exactly what he wanted her to do. His tongue was fully inside now, pushing at the roof of her mouth, sweeping over her gums and the insides of her cheeks. Pushing against hers. Brandy dripped out and ran over her chin as he continued with the insistent kiss and when he realised it was happening he pulled away momentarily to lap it up, cleaning her of every drop.

He sat back. “Have you ever been kissed before?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said and she couldn’t help hanging her head in shame as she thought of the last man who’d kissed her.

Spike took her by the chin and lifted her head. “But not like that?”

“No,” she replied, her eyes still downcast. “Not like that.”

“What’s your story, Buffy?” he asked reaching over for the brandy and handing it to her. “You have to be the most unconvincing whore I’ve ever had the pleasure of. Run away from home did you?”

“Why are you so cold?” she countered. The brandy went down in one long draught, causing another coughing fit. He did nothing to help her as she spluttered and choked, but he did fill up the glass again as she resolutely held it out to him. Down it went, almost choking her once more, but filling her steadily with the courage she lacked to get through this.

“Horrible disease,” he said. “Can’t seem to get warm since. Was rather hoping you’d help me with that.”

She thought she saw him wink, but she couldn’t be sure because there were suddenly two Spikes sitting in front of her, and the glass was slipping from her fingers as she tried to hand it back to him. Then the images merged into one and the room slowly started to turn.

He caught the glass as it fell and then her as she swayed, with a hand on each of her shoulders. “I don’t believe you,” she said, as his image swam in front of her. She wondered if he’d mind if she went to sleep again. The bed was suddenly looking very inviting. And then she felt him lying her down onto the silky cover of the quilt. She knew that she was wearing nothing but her camisole which covered none of her blushes, and that he could see everything she had to offer, And that he was probably looking. But she found she just didn’t care any more. He could go back to hell, she thought, rolling onto her side and snuggling her face into the pillow.

“Buffy?” His voice filtered through the lovely fog that was descending on her, rolling over her in waves and making her feel as weak as a kitten. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Brandy was the perfect way to make the world disappear. At that moment she couldn’t care what he did to her, because she wasn’t going to be there. She was floating off to some wonderful place…

“Buffy.” She felt his hand on her arm, shaking her and then pulling her over onto her back. The room was still rocking gently back and forth, as was Spike’s face as it loomed over her. The devil was handsome too, she decided. Strangely so with his hollow cheekbones and pale skin, but pleasing none the less.

“I’m not usually that bothered,” he said from somewhere far away, “but I think I’d prefer you awake for this.”

She screwed up her eyes and brought him into focus. “Sleepy,” was all she could manage.

“Oh,” he said, his face very near to hers now. “Going to let you have a nice, long sleep soon, pretty Buffy. But not yet, love, not yet.”

------------------------------------------------------------

“So, who was the man that put you off kissing then?” Spike asked her, intrigued by her reaction to his earlier question.

“Why should you care?” she replied, her voice slurring. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t care,” he said, matter of factly. “Just curious, that’s all. Is that what this is all about. Forcing you to marry some old codger with no teeth, were they?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied resolutely closing her eyes.

He soon had them open again as his hand dipped between her legs.

“Has a man ever touched you here?

She shook her head.

“Or done this?” He slid a finger inside.

Her legs clamped shut, trapping his hand.

He moved the other to her breast, letting his thumb graze her nipple. “What about this then?”

“She nodded.

Spike extracted his hand, sat back on his heels and looked at her.

“Did you like it when I kissed you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Would you like me to do it again?”

Buffy struggled up onto her elbows. “But I thought you wanted to do that other thing?”

“And we will soon enough, but kissing can be very pleasurable, you know. Would you like me to teach you how to kiss, Buffy?” he took her hand, and tugged.

“But I didn’t think I’d have to” she said letting him pull her up. She was still loose and floppy, so he slipped his hands under her arms and propped her up onto the stack of pillows. Her head tipped to the side as he did so and suddenly he was hungry again. The sight made his fangs tingle and ache, but he managed to squash the feeling down. They hadn’t even started yet and he suspected that it wasn’t only the alcohol that was making her so weak. If he took any more blood now she wasn’t going to be good for anything.

“Some men like it, others want to cut straight to the chase,” he said with a shrug.

“And do you, like it?” she said.

“Let me show you how much I like it,” he said dipping his head towards her. “Kiss me back, Buffy.”

She leaned up a fraction and touched her warm, quivering lips to his. He increased the pressure by degrees and she took her lead from him and did the same. Then he sat back, leaving her hovering in mid air, her lips still puckered, her eyes still closed. She opened them and looked round to see where he’d gone.

“Can see you’re going to be a natural, love.” he said smiling encouragingly at her. This time open your mouth, and I’m going to put my hand on the back of your neck, just to hold you. Not going to be hurting you again.”

She still flinched when he slid his hand into the hair at the back of her head and wound it round his fingers and every time she did that, his demon jumped.

Down mate, he told it firmly, but it wasn’t listening. Dammit, he thought, turning away as it momentarily emerged. When he turned back, face normal again she was watching him with a puzzled look, so he didn’t give her any time to ask the question he could see hovering on her lips. Instead he just kissed her, wet and open-mouthed, pushing his tongue inside, encouraging hers to move against his.

She tasted of brandy and him, a heady mixture of decadence mingling with her own sweet innocence and he could have stayed there all night just doing that to her. He wrapped her hair tighter around his fingers and let his other hand drop to her breast. What little breath she had left hitched in her throat as he squeezed and he remembered then that she had to breathe so he reluctantly pulled back.

“Tell me you liked that,” he said roughly, annoyed that she’d nearly see his demon face. The last thing he wanted was her hysterical on him.

She frowned at him, and touched two fingers to her lips. “Yes, I liked it,” she said. Then she raised her face to his. “Would you like me to kiss you now?”

It calmed him, the way she looked at him so honestly. It was a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. No duplicity, no deceit. She didn’t want anything from him and her words were simple and clear so that he knew exactly what she meant. And yes, he did want her to kiss him with the same honesty. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. He’d smelt her innocence in the tavern, and he’d tasted her honour and integrity in the blood he’d taken in the carriage.

It was something he could never know again, unless it was through her, he realised with a start. His demon laughed at such lofty ambitions. You’re a sad, pitiful creature, it told him. Will she make you human again? Is that what you think? Best kill her now then. She may like your human face. May bend to kiss you with those sweet lips of hers, but what’s she going to do when she sees me? Answer me that.

She was still waiting as Spike decided what to do. His demon was right. This could never work. He was a vampire first and foremost even if he did have left a smouldering spark of humanity that, try as he might, he couldn’t seem to exorcise.

And it was that small spark that spoke to him as he moved his head, fully intending to end it there and then.

You may be a monster, it told him, but she makes you feel like a man, doesn’t she? Do you remember what it feels like to be a man?

He did. And it was too painful to even think about.

Jumping from the bed, he took two paces towards the door before spotting the brandy decanter, picking it up and throwing it hard at the wall. Buffy cried out behind him as it shattered it into a million pieces and sprayed brown liquid all over the flock wallpaper.

He jammed his fingers into his hair and covered his face with his hands as his demon gloated. Show her, go on, it said. See if she wants to kiss your ridges and fangs. See if she doesn’t just die of fright like all the others.

“No” Spike shouted. “I’m in charge here, do you hear me. I’m still me.”

His demon took heed at last and it was only then, when he’d managed to push it back that Spike remembered Buffy again. He spun round and found her standing at the side of the bed trying to struggle back into her dress. She flicked him a terrified glance and ran around it holding the dress in front of her as if it were a shield, but he was across the room in a flash, wrenching it away from her and throwing it down.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going,” he growled, unable to bring himself down from his struggle with the demon.

“Let me go,” Buffy cried trying to run around him, but he caught her easily, lifted her clear from the floor and threw her back onto the bed.

He could see what she thought he was going to do to her then. This wasn’t going to be someone buying the services of a whore. She’d withdrawn her consent, that was obvious. But she’d taken his money, so she owed him. And his demon asked him why he was even having this conversation with himself.

“You’re insane,” she said quietly although her voice was still laced with terror. “I want you to let me go.”

Spike shook his head. “Can’t do that, love, sorry.”

“But why?” Buffy said pulling at the quilt to cover herself. Then all the colour drained from her face. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? I’ll never leave this room, will I?”

She looked about as she spoke as if she was taking one last look at her own grave.

“Hell, no,” he said sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m not going to going to kill you.”

“You are,” she said “I know it. You wanted to do it in the carriage, but you remembered that you hadn’t had me yet. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“I am not going to kill you,” he shouted, taking her arm again, forgetting that she bruised so easily.

“Then what do you want?” she said her whole body trembling. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

What did he want from her? He thought he’d known that at the start of the evening. Then she had to go and look at him like that, when she’d asked him about the kiss. Go and remind him of things that were best locked away and forgotten. Foolish things that made him weak and pathetic.

He brought his hand to her face once more and traced a finger down her cheek. She stayed very still as if she was afraid she might anger him by even breathing.

“I just want you to kiss me,” he said. “Like you were going to before.”

He tilted his head, and looked her in the eye.

“Do you think you could still do that for me, Buffy?”
 

He was mad. There was no doubt in her mind now. It was almost as if he were two different people inhabiting the same body, each of them fighting for control. And her fate rested with the outcome of that struggle, she already knew that much. The cold, unfeeling killer who’d taken the sailor’s life and them calmly stepped over the body without a glance was also the man whose touch could be as gentle as a summer breeze, and who’s velvet lips had promised something that she hadn’t even realised she wanted.

And the man who she’d thought was going to kill her in the coach was the same one who looked at her now with eyes so naked that she could see right into his soul.

The thought struck her as odd for how could such a monster have a soul?

Buffy pulled up the quilt, covering herself from those eyes that seemed to see everything, even in the dark, and thought that her only hope of surviving this would be to appeal to the man who sat waiting for her now. As long as he was here, she was safe, but how to keep him?

“I want you to kiss me,” Spike said again. “Have I frightened you too much for that?”

“No,” Buffy replied hoping that her voice sounded convincing. “You don’t frighten me. Not as you are now.”

He shook his head, his gaze flicking to the quilt as she clutched it to herself, a small humourless smile on his lips.

“Don’t look for the man, pet. He’s not there any more.”

Buffy swallowed, trying to keep calm as she watched him warring with himself.

“But I can see him,” she began. “Whatever happened to bring you to this, he is still there.”

“I know what you’re doing.” He spoke quietly, without looking at her, his finger drawing a pattern on the quilt. “And it’s not going to work. I’m not letting you go.”

Buffy fell back onto her heels, meeting his cool gaze as he lifted his head. Desolation, that’s what she saw. A bleak emptiness that chilled her to the bone. And the man was still there, trapped inside it all. Frozen in some nightmare place.

“You can’t keep me here against my will,” she said.

Spike shrugged and twisted himself so that he was sitting beside her, totally unconcerned with his nakedness. His cock was still hard as he leaned back against the headboard, one leg straight, the other bent, his arm dangling across his knee. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and contemplated it for a moment and then his head rolled sideways so that his face was close to hers.

“Go then,” he said his voice betraying no emotion. “Dress yourself and go.”

Buffy kept her eyes firmly fixed on his face, unable to believe what she was hearing. He was giving up, so easily?

“You’ll try and stop me?” she asked.

Spike raised his hands, palms forward. “I won’t move from this bed.”

“Then this is a game?” she said looking around briefly and locating her dress as it lay on the floor. Game or no game, if he was giving her any chance at all to escape him, then she ought to take it.

“Perhaps,” he replied, his eyes glittering. “But I think you owe me that kiss first. You did take my money, it’s the very least you can do.”

“I dropped it,” she said trying to remember where. “In the coach I think.”

He leaned calmly over the edge of the bed then and picked up his discarded jacket. “Here,” He said fishing out another handful of coins. “Will that be enough?”

She only hesitated a moment before reaching for them. Part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell. Do what he wanted with her because she didn’t care anymore. She’d show him how she could die with her honour still intact. Whatever he did, he’d never take that away from her.

But another part of her still desperately wanted to live, despite everything that had happened to her. It still wanted to take that very slim chance he was offering her of a way out of this. And if it meant sacrificing her honour, then she was learning fast that honour is worth nothing to you, if you are dead.

“I could just take it,” he said noting her hesitation.

“Yes you could,” she said, her heart speeding up as she realised just what he wanted from her at that moment. “But you don’t want to do it that way, do you?”

“Oh, I want to alright,” he said. “You don’t know how close I am.”

His face was an impassive mask and he sat before her like a cold, hard statue, but he couldn’t hide it from her. The need for something, what was it? Love, affection, someone to see the man he’d once been?

It was his only vulnerability. And it was her only chance.

She handed back the coins. “I’ll give you what you want, if you will let me go.”

He made no move to take them. Instead he jumped forward onto his knees one arm moving behind her back, the other hand sliding upwards to grasp her cheek. He jerked her towards him, making her drop the quilt, pulling her flush against him so that his hard cock prodded and rubbed against her belly.

Thinking that the inevitable moment had come, Buffy found that she had some fight left in her after all. Any thoughts of meekly letting him have his way flew straight out of the window as her survival instinct came to the fore. She tried to twist out of his grasp and rake her nails down his face, but as he had done in the coach he knew exactly what to do. As if he’d done this many times before he smoothly captured her hands, flipped her over and pinned her down beneath him on the bed. And he had a physical strength she could never hope to match, she knew that as she lay under his hard length.

But still, even as he had her exactly where he wanted her, she managed to see it. Even through her fear she could see that there was still a small spark of hope for her as he clenched his jaw and got himself under control.

It was still there. The need and the wanting. The desire that, for once, he wouldn’t have to do it this way. His weakness, she thought, understanding something of the world at last. Go for his weakness and exploit it, no matter how cruel that may be.

“I’ll give you what you want,” she repeated wondering if she could be that cruel even to this monster. “But then, you must let me go.”

“Buffy,” he said his eyes scanning her face, his hand coming up to smooth away a strand of hair that tangled in her eyes. “If you gave me that, I would never let you go.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Feels good, doesn’t she? His demon whispered.

Spike twisted his head, almost as if there were someone else sitting behind him breathing seductive words in his ear, making him do things, despite himself. When it was like this the two beings that occupied his body separated in a way that was almost painful and he could feel it, tearing him in two. The weakness of the man, the strength of the demon, usually they sat together without any thought of rebellion. The demon took the man’s hand and led him further and further away from the light and the man went willingly, revelling in the lessons, taught so insistently.

But this woman spoke to him with words that were like food to a starving man. The promise of cool, clear water when your throat was parched. They made him want to reach out and grasp at hopeless possibilities. They made him want to believe again.

But his demon always knew what was happening and it was always there, to squash down these feelings. To remind him what he was.

“Her skin, it said, so smooth and clean. The way it slides against yours, the way it smells. She wants you to take her, his demon said. Can’t you feel it? Smell how much she wants you, go on. Why are you doing this to yourself? It asked in a mocking tone.

Spike listened. The devil behind him, an angel in front of him. And him in the middle. Her eyes pleading with him not to hurt her. Its voice telling him to kill her, or turn her. Her body asking him to be gentle. His demon telling him to take without thought of anything else. Just because he could.

And in the middle of it all, the man who just wanted to be loved. And who was never going to be again.

She’s aching for you, his demon insisted. So wet and warm that you’d slide right in with no resistance.

“She’s a bloody virgin,” Spike said, out loud causing Buffy’s startled eyes to flit from side to side as she looked for the person he was talking to.

But she wouldn’t stop you, his demon said with glee. Maybe a token protest, but once she feels that cock of yours inside her she’ll soon be singing a different tune.

They always do, it added.

You don’t want it that way, do you? He remembered her words that rang so true they cut him open. Could you force someone to love you? Would it mean anything? Did it have to?

What the bloody hell was happening? One look at this girl and his whole world was tilting so far over that he couldn’t imagine it ever being straight again.

“You will come to me,” he said in a voice of calm certainty.

“Not like this,” she said wriggling beneath him.

He moved a little so that he could dip his hand between her legs, stilling her protests with the weight of his body. “Shh”, he said sliding a finger inside her, “let me show you how much you want this.”

He stroked her most sensitive flesh, feeling her response even as she struggled to keep still. The clenching of her inner muscles, the flow of her wanton juices. The way she pressed her mound against the heel of his hand, looking for something that she didn’t understand. And more subtly, the flush of her skin, the rapid beating of her heart and the imperceptible hitch in her breath as she tried to deny what was happening to her.

“There,” he said, bringing out a wet finger and rubbing it on her lips. “That’s how much you want me. Can you smell it, Buffy? Can you feel it?”

She shook her head. “Then my body betrays me,” she said. “My body may betray me but my mind never will. It proves nothing, Spike, only that I am a physically weak. Take me then, and do your worse, for you will have no satisfaction from it.”

“Damn you to hell woman.” Spike rolled off her and flopped down beside her, his hands covering his face. Let her go, his better half urged. This is only going to lead to torment.

She lay very still beside him except for a slight trembling which he could feel even though they weren’t touching and he made no more moves towards her. She could do what she liked he thought. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to kiss him voluntarily now. He didn’t know why he was reluctant to kill her. It didn’t make any sense, he knew that. But he also knew that her blood tasted better than anything he’d ever had. And that she appealed to a side of him that he’d thought was long dead.

And that her body was screaming out for his touch no matter how much she chose to deny it. He could still feel her skin beneath his palm. Her musky scent was so strong he felt drunk with it. She’d writhe and moan beneath him, call out his name in ecstasy as he made her climax over and over. He already knew how it would be. Already knew her better than she knew herself.

The bed dipped as she slid quietly from it, then he heard the rustling of the stiff material of her dress and petticoats as she slipped into them. He watched her silently as she looked around for her boots, picked them up and made for the door.

Running away barefoot? His demon gave him a prod and he heard it laugh. This will be funny, it told him. When she finds the door locked. How mad is she going to be? You’ll have her then, won’t you. Won’t be able to resist that.

He was a predator, a creature of the night. And she was his.

As she moved further away from him he could feel himself twitching as he anticipated the thrill of the chase. It was always particularly enjoyable when they ran. Fear seemed to make the blood boil. Gave it a heady, spicy edge and he had to grab great handfuls of the sheet to stop himself jumping her there and then. A poor, innocent victim and a big, hungry vampire. His favourite scenario. His demon whispered and whispered.

Spike sat up, his eyes glowing, and Buffy screamed.

---------------------------------------------------------

Glass. All over the floor, from the decanter he’d smashed She remembered it now and she’d stepped right in it.

Buffy screamed as the shards pierced her feet and each step that she took seemed to just lead her to more pain. Then she felt herself being lifted clear off her feet and enclosed in an iron grip that she recognised well.

“Bloody hell, woman,” she heard Spike say. “How far did you think you were going to get? And without shoes, you stupid bint.”

He sounded cross as he carried her back to the bed, but there was in his voice a tiny hint of something else. Like the tone one would use when scolding a child that you were concerned about.

“I’d rather run over broken glass than stay here with you,” she said as he laid her down. The pain was intense and she couldn’t help crying out, much as she didn’t want him to see how much it was hurting. There were still pieces in her skin, she could feel them and they burned and stabbed at her.

Her head was spinning but she tried to sit up and pull them out but Spike pushed her back down.

“Keep still, woman,” he said, “I’ll see to it.”

“Please,” she said, the pain overriding her shame at having to plead with him for help. And for having failed so miserably in her escape attempt. “It’s hurting.”

“Well of course it’s bloody hurting,” he growled at her. “Your foot’s like a pincushion. Now, hold still.

She wasn’t sure what he was going to do, and at that moment she didn’t much care, as long as he took the pain away. But never in her wildest dreams did she expect him to do what he did next.

“Roll over onto your front,” he ordered her, giving her a helping hand when she looked at him, puzzled.

She pressed her face into the pillow and then she felt him take her foot, and surely that wasn’t his mouth she could feel?

Buffy tried to twist herself round, crying out again as more pain sliced through her.

Spike pushed her back down again. “I can’t do this unless you keep still,” he said. “It will hurt, so bite the pillow or something. I’ll be as careful as I can.”

“What are you going to do? she asked as his cold, wet mouth descended on her once more.

She got no answer but the pain he’d promised her. Each strong pull from his mouth loosened another piece of glass and she heard them clink as he threw them into his empty brandy glass.

He worked methodically, seemingly uncaring of the way she writhed and cried with the pain he was causing. Hot tears stained her cheeks and she instinctively tried to wriggle away from it, even thought she knew that it must be done, but he pulled her back and held her fast.

“Nearly done,” he said. And then when she tried to turn around again he pressed a hand on her shoulder and wouldn’t let her.

“Don’t look,” he said. “It’s not a pretty sight.”

“How bad is it?” she asked flopping back down against the pillows.

“You won’t be able to walk for a few days,” he replied.

She didn’t miss the note of triumph in his voice as he said it and she groaned inwardly, knowing that she’d lost her best and possibly her only chance of escape. Knowing that her rash action had irrevocably sealed her fate.

She no longer heard the clink of glass upon glass as he sucked at her foot, but he continued to work at her, drawing mouthfuls of her flesh into his mouth and each time he did it she could feel her blood rush around her body in such a frenzy that it made her dizzy.

A languid warmth started to overtake her making her feel fuzzy and cotton –headed. And the pain was receding to be replaced by something else. In the carriage it had been sharp and intense, but this was different. It washed over her in waves, each peaking higher than the one before, making the blood pound in her ears until she could no longer hear the growling and sucking noises coming from Spike.

All she was aware of was the dull ache of his mouth working on her and the rhythmic building of wave after wave of intense feeling centred on the place between her legs. It was becoming hard to breathe as she clutched at the sheet and she tried to bat him away, because some part of her was telling her that she shouldn’t be enjoying this. That this was so wrong. Genteel young ladies didn’t get pleasure from this intimate touching. The marriage bed was a place to be endured not enjoyed. Every good Victorian lady knew that.

But instead she felt him pulling at her skirts and then his fingers delving into that place that was radiating such a surprising feeling of pleasure that she wanted to scream out with it.

She did cry out when he found her most secret spot. The place that only she knew about and hardly dared touch because she’d been told she would go to hell if she did that to herself. And that was when she learned just how much of a monster he was.

She cried no, but he just did it more. She tried to move away, but he held her fast. She felt the world dissolving around her and fought and struggled to stay with it, but he urged her to go. Told her to find her release, and kept on saying it and rubbing at her and sucking at her foot until she gave up and just went with it, to the place he was sending her.

How could this be hell? she thought frantically as a voice that may have been hers cried out someone’s name. Can something this good, be so wicked?

There was something wet trickling down her thigh, but it was cold, so it couldn’t be blood. And Spike was still there, licking at the sole of her foot now, small, delicate movements of his tongue as if he was cleaning up every drop.

Buffy let out a long breath into the pillow, trying to gather up her scattered senses, lifting her head and bringing the room into focus once more. For a moment she couldn’t even remember what she was doing here, thinking it to be a dream, or more likely a nightmare from which she was just awakening.

But it wasn’t a dream. The aching in her feet was real, and so was the silken quilt beneath her. The flickering candlelight lit up the room with strange shadows, but it was still the room that Spike had brought her to, to be his whore. She pushed herself over on to her back and there was the man himself watching her, his eyes burning, intent on her alone.

Her blood stained his cheek, and his mouth, and when he saw her staring at it he wiped it away with the back of his hand. For a moment neither of them spoke. Buffy sat herself up and pulled down her skirts and petticoats while he just sat and stared at her. She scooted back against the headboard using her heels for leverage and wincing at the pain it caused. Spike gaze darkened when he saw the small streaks of blood that her bleeding feet were leaving on the quilt.

“You’ve got to let me go,” she said pulling up her knees and hugging them, as if they could be a barrier between her and this man who’d just drunk her blood, and who seemed to be holding her in place with his eyes alone.

He shook his head.

“Then kill me now,” she said.

Again, he shook his head. “I told you, I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “But I’ll make a bargain with you.”

She stared at him, unblinking.

“The day you come to me of your own free will, because you want to, and because you want me. That’s the day I’ll let you go.”

“I don’t understand,” Buffy said.

“Oh, I think you do,” Spike replied jumping from the bed and reaching for his trousers. “Did you enjoy what I just did to you, Buffy?”

She felt a blush crawl over her as she shook her head.

“Liar,” he said. “Would you like me to do it again?”

“No,” she found her voice at last.

“I will if you ask nicely.” He took a step towards her.

Buffy held up her hands and moved back a little more. “I will never ask you for anything.”

“You came here to whore for me, Buffy, or have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said, “but the game has changed, I think.”

“Oh yes, the game has changed.” He moved closer. “But who is the cat and who is the mouse here? Tell me that,” he said raising his eyebrows.

It was still there, she realised. The need she’d seen earlier. Try as he may to mask it, he couldn’t. He was still waiting for his kiss.

“I will kiss you,” she said, his weakness making her bold. “And I will let you make love with me.” He jumped visibly when she said that. “But do not fool yourself, that I am doing it for any other reason than that I want you to let me go from here and away from you. And here is my bargain,” she continued. “I will give you this one night, but no more. Tonight I will willingly do anything that you ask of me, but tomorrow morning your coachman must take me away from here to the place of my choosing. If you do that, then you may find me and I will let you do it again.

“What kind of bargain is that,” Spike said snatching up his shirt. “I can have you anytime I want. I don’t have to make bargains with you.”

“Take me kicking and screaming then,” Buffy said lifting her chin. “I will fight you every inch of the way, and you will get no satisfaction from it.”

“Good,” he said taking a step towards her. “Because do you know, I prefer it that way.”

“Not this time,” she said meeting his gaze as boldly as she could given that her heart was now beating so fast that she could hardly draw breath. “That’s not what you want this time.”

“There are people looking for you,” he said. “Asking for you in the tavern, they were.”

She faltered. “You’re lying.”

“Young bloke, fair hair, big moustache.”

Her heart missed a beat and almost forgot to start again.

“I’ll hide you here,” he said, smirking at the way he’d wrested the advantage from her.

“In return for being your whore?”

“Well, yes, what else would I keep you here for?” he said dropping the shirt again.

“My offer still stands,” she said. He had to be bluffing. Surely he hadn’t seen her brother? Just a clever guess, she told herself. And she couldn’t back down now, this was all she had to fight with.

“You don’t back down, do you?” he said with something almost amounting to respect in his voice.

“I ran away from something far worse than you,” she said, remembering just what had brought her to this in the first place.

“Oh, I very much doubt that, my sweet,” he said. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”

“My offer still stands.” She backed away as he approached the bed, sucking in a short breath as she skidded her sore heels along the quilt. “Take it or leave it.”

He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, unmoving and then suddenly his arm shot out with lightening speed and grasped her by the chin.

“And what makes you think,” he said, his face very close to hers, “that one night with you will have me so enamoured that I will do anything you say? Don’t you think that if you give me that much pleasure then I am more likely to want to keep you here, you stupid girl.” He dropped her chin so abruptly that she almost toppled over. “Did you not think of that?”

“I will give you a night to remember,” she said as she rubbed at her chin. “And one that you will never have again, unless you release me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

She watched him pulling at his trousers and kicking them off. Releasing his cock that always seemed to be in a permanent state of arousal. He pointed to her dress.

“Take it off, all of it this time.”

“Tell me you agree to my bargain first,” she said, wondering if it was the brandy that was making her so bold, or whether it was just pure fear.

“Tell me you agree to mine,” Spike said as he climbed onto the bed and crawled towards her. “Make me believe that you’re doing it because you want me and I’ll unlock that door.”

“But if I ever get to that stage, then I wouldn’t want to leave, ahh,” she said, “I see your game. What kind of bargain is that?”

“I never said I played fair, love.”

He moved so fast it made her dizzy. One minute she was sitting in front of him, the next he had her on her back, and his hands were pulling up her skirts, one coming to rest on each hip. With a satisfied smirk he lowered his head and swept his tongue just once over her suddenly, terribly sensitive flesh. He laughed at the look of shock she knew she must be sporting.

“Did you like that?” he asked.

“Did you?” she said, determined not to let him take the advantage.

“Ask me really nicely, and I’ll do it again,” he said showing her his tongue.

“Ask me nicely and I might let you,” she said taking her cue from him.

He laughed at that. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you? Don’t find many women like you around.”

“And you’re an arrogant pig,” she said. “And, unfortunately there are far too many men like you in the world.”

He laughed again. “I knew you were going to be fun. Alright, you’ve won the first battle, Buffy. But you won’t win the war. May I kiss your fragrant little flower, madam?”

“My what?” Buffy propped herself on her elbows

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said with a chuckle.

One long, hard suck had her throbbing in his mouth.

“Pace yourself, love,” Spike said sitting up. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“You’re not going to win this,” she said weakly.

“We’ll see about that shall we.”

She watched bewildered as Spike lay on his back and put his arms behind his head.

“What are you doing?” she asked, still unsure exactly whose bargain they were going by here.

“Thought you might like to return the favour, pet.”

Buffy looked at him, aghast. “You don’t want me to….”

“Ask me nicely” he said with a wicked grin, “and I might just let you.

Can I Keep You?

by candyknicks

Chapter 5

“Wouldn’t you like to touch me?”

“No,” Buffy swallowed hard. Men were so big when they were like this. She should be used to seeing him since he’d been naked in front of her for virtually all the time they’d been together, but seeing him lying there proudly displaying himself to her made her realise just how impossible this was going to be. How would he ever get that inside her? she thought with great trepidation.

“Aren’t you just the slightest bit curious?” Spike said touching himself. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like? To discover whether it’s as hard as it looks? Find out what these feel like in your dainty little palm.” Spike cupped his balls. “They’d fit just right, I reckon.”

Buffy put her hands behind her back.

“I don’t think a genteel young lady would want to do any such thing,” she said. “Besides, you are supposed to be asking me. I will do it if you ask me politely.”

Spike continued to stroke himself, seeming to grow larger with each thrust into his hand. “You could do this for me love. Make me come in your pretty little hand. Wouldn’t you like that kind of power over me?”

“Does it grow larger every time you do that?” Buffy’s eyes were very wide now and she seemed to be unable to tear her gaze from the spectacle in front of her. He has no shame, she thought as her fingers twitched behind her back.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Spike said grabbing at her arm. “Put your hand on me, woman. Want you to make me come. Please will you make me come? There, I’ve said it.”

“But what do you mean? She had no idea what he was talking about. “Come where, Spike?

“I’ll show you.” He wrapped her hand around his cock and she saw him grit his teeth as she instinctively squeezed. “Yes, just like that.”

Buffy didn’t answer. Instead she was momentarily lost in the sensation of the smoothest skin she’d ever felt under her fingers. A contradiction of strength and softness, she thought as she ran her finger along the length of him. She jumped a little as it twitched under her touch and looked enquiringly at Spike.

“Have a little play,” he told her and settled himself into the pillows.

“You must tell me what to do,” Buffy replied. She stroked him again, gently, and found that she wasn’t as revolted she thought she was going to be. “Is this alright?”

“More than alright, pet. Do it as hard as you like, you won’t hurt me.”

“I’ve noticed that,” she said, curling her hand around him “How are you so strong, when you look so ordinary?”

Spike laughed at that. “Ordinary, am I? Appearances can be very deceptive, love. No, don’t stop.”

She’d momentarily taken her mind from her task as she remembered the murdered sailor. Spike had one - handedly lifted him clear from the ground with what could only be described as supernatural strength. It was something she couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Carry on, love,” Spike urged her moving his hips.

She resumed her scrutiny, telling herself that she should do this, find out as much as she could about the male anatomy for if she was going to make a living from being a whore, then she ought to know what she was doing. Perhaps if she learned a few tricks then someone would set her up as their mistress and release her from a life on the streets?

“Why is the skin so soft, when it’s so hard underneath?”

“ ‘Cos you’re all soft and delicate inside, love. Makes it more sensitive too. Curl your fingers around it, like this.” Spike covered her hand with his, showing her how to grip and move. After a few strokes he released her to carry on by herself, falling into a rhythm that he seemed to like.

She brushed her thumb over the tip on every stroke and he gave a small groan when she did that. Men were so easy to please, she realised. She had the strongest man she’d ever met lying under her hand and all she was doing was touching a very small part of him, yet he was writhing and groaning as if he had no will left of his own at all.

“Use your other hand too,” he urged her.

She reached forward and placed her palm flat on his chest, never breaking her rhythm with the other. Again, smooth and white, he was very pale, yet hard and rigid. She moved it down, feeling his taught stomach muscles and his firm hips. She wondered if all men looked like this naked. Women were often referred to as beautiful, but men could be too, she thought sweeping her fingers over his hip and making him wriggle.

And those things that nestled beneath his cock? She reached out a hand to touch them and found them to be soft and mobile, and that he liked it very much when she filled her hand with them and gently rolled them about. Instinctively she knew that they should be handled with care, so she started to squeeze them very lightly in time with her other hand.

So intent was she on what she was doing that she’d almost forgotten all about Spike until suddenly his hips jerked beneath her.

“Bloody hell,” he shouted thrusting his cock sharply into her hand.

She let go of him as liquid erupted from the tip, staring in shock and surprise at what she’d made him do, her hand hovering in mid air. Spike grabbed it and put it back, holding it in place as he continued to pump. Some of it caught in her fingers but she couldn’t move them because he wasn’t about to let go until he’d finished. All she could do was watch as he continued to thrust at her and let out a series of guttural groans which finally subsided into a long sigh. The sticky substance pooled on his stomach and dripped through her fingers and Spike just lay back with a wide grin on his face, his arms flung wide looking very pleased with himself indeed.

Spike was a dangerous and powerful man, but when she touched him there he was as helpless as a small kitten purring under her hand. Go for the weakness, the voice in her head urged her. It’s your only chance of escape. Do it now while he still remembers.

“Did you like that, Spike?” She wiped her hand on the quilt and then took a loose corner of the bed-sheet and started to clean him up. She did it slowly watching as he quickly hardened again under her touch. Watched his face turn serious again as she trailed the sheet over his stomach and began to rub lightly.

“It was nice love,” he said, his eyes never leaving her hand.

“Only nice? I’m disappointed, Spike.” She turned her attention to his balls and wiped at them with small strokes. Every touch made him twitch.

“Even better for a bit of practice, yes?” He reached for her hand, but Buffy held it up and away from him.

“Do you want me to do it again?” she said in a low voice.

“Please.” He went for her hand once more and a puzzled look clouded his features when he saw her sit back and fold her arms.

“Let me go then.” she said. “And I will.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

He dropped her hand and clenched his jaw. Now, more than at any other time, he needed to hide this strange neediness that this woman made him feel.

“Told you so.” His demon sneered.

“You’d like me to do that again, wouldn’t you?” Buffy said from the other side of the bed.

“Not bothered, Pet,” Spike said moving towards her.

He saw her flinch as he leaned across her, picked up the wine bottle and helped himself to a glass of wine.

“Have something to eat,” he said casually. “You must be hungry, what’ve you been living on, table scraps?”

“I’m not,” she said.

Stubborn as hell, he thought. Just how he liked them.

“Eat something, you stupid woman, you’ll never last the night without food in you.”

“Are you going to?” she asked, still looking longingly at the food.

“I’ve eaten,” he said tossing back his wine. “Go ahead, I can see you’re half starved.”

Buffy looked down at herself. “How can you possibly say that? And stop calling me stupid, I’m not.”

“Could have fooled me,” Spike said “I’m not the one sitting in a strange man’s bed. I’m not the one who’s just made a deal with the devil.”

Buffy’s head whipped up.

“Joking,” Spike said holding up his hands. “Well, about the devil part, anyway. Do I have to feed you?”

“No, no you don’t,” Buffy said “I will eat something if all you’re going to do is lie there. Are you sure you won’t want me to do that again?”

Spike took a moment to control himself before answering with a non-committal shrug. “Can get that anywhere, pet. Could do it myself if I was desperate enough. No, you go ahead and eat, I can hear your stomach rumbling from here.”

He watched her through half closed eyes as she wiped her hand fastidiously on the quilt, reached for a plate and filled it with a chunk of bread and a lump of cheese. She settled herself down and nibbled at it with the bare restraint of someone who was voraciously hungry, but trying to give the impression that they didn’t care a jot if they ate or not. He could feel how hungry she was, could hear every sound her stomach made as if protested, and gurgled.

Didn’t we just enjoy that? Her hand on us? his demon enquired.

We did, Spike replied and reclined once more against the pillows.

Make her do it again, it urged.

I can wait, Spike replied.

What for?

She’s not going to win this, Spike said. Can’t you feel how close she is to giving in? How much she wants this?

You flatter yourself, as usual, his demon replied. That girl will die before she does anything she doesn’t want to. You know that.

Well, of course I know it, Spike said. He reached for his cup of blood because dammit, he was getting hungry again. He only had to look at her and he was hungry.

His demon growled, a sharp frustrated sound. Stale blood? Its voice was laced with contempt. And from an animal too? William, it said, I raised you better than this.

It’s all under control, Spike told him, hurriedly wiping away some blood that had splashed onto his chin. Anything she does tonight, she’ll do voluntarily. Not going to have to force this one, you’ll see.

But what fun is there in that? His demon said, genuinely mystified.

You couldn’t begin to understand, Spike told him.

He finished his blood and set down his cup. Buffy was still eating, every now and then stealing him a small glance. Spike smiled in return to let her know he’d seen her and let his hand stray to his cock once more. She tried to ignore him as he ran his finger nail along it then brought his other hand up to his chest and trailed his fingers slowly down.

His demon should have known better than to goad him when he was feeling satisfied.

The way she’d approached her task so innocently had been exciting enough in itself without the promise that she showed at her new vocation. She did need practice, he hadn’t been joking about that, but my god, what she was going to be like when she really got the hang of it.

Yes, he could take her with all the brute force that his demon was advocating, make her to do things, and yes, that would be exciting too. But there was something about a small dainty hand that didn’t quite know what it was doing. The irregular jerky rhythm. The instinctive gentleness of her touch, despite him having told her to go at it as hard as she like. The way she’d concentrated and looked so intent on her task. And best of all, the look on her face when he’d come, in her hand as he’d promised. Absolutely priceless and something money could never buy.

He could only just admit it to himself, but what he needed most from this girl called Buffy girl was her innocence. Something he was going to take from her. He should be defiling her and killing her just about now, they never lasted very long, despite his best intentions. But all he was doing was sitting here, watching her eat and making moon-eyes at her.

And remembering how her hand had felt on him, and how his lips had felt on her.

His demon opened its mouth.

Shut up, Spike told it. Then he reached out his arm and let his finger rest very lightly on Buffy’s thigh. Very slowly and deliberately he began to bunch the material of her skirt in his hand so that it started to slide up her leg with every movement.

She watched his hand like a startled rabbit, unmoving except for the things only he could hear.

Her blood picking up speed with his every touch. Her heart growing louder and louder until it felt as if it was pounding in his chest. The faint tremor that rippled over her skin and that unique scent that grew stronger and stronger with every passing moment that told him that her body did indeed play her false.

The impassive mask that she was struggling to keep on her face was slipping fast as her body took over, and virtually screamed its needs at him.

He fought his demon, and she was fighting hers, he could see that.

“What are you doing,” she managed at last in a small voice.

“Starting the next round, love,” Spike told her, moving closer.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

He’s too close, Buffy thought. She put down her plate, pushed down her skirt, and tried to move further away from him, but the only place to go was over the edge of the bed. He caught her as she swayed.

I didn’t ask you to touch me she said, shaking him off.

He let her go with a chuckle. “You didn’t have to, love. Can feel how much you want me.”

“You’re wrong,” she said. “It’s you that wants me.” She folded her arms again and twisted herself away from him, but he was with her, mirroring her every move. Anticipating where she was going even before she knew it herself. She pushed herself towards the end of the bed, but he was there, his arms held wide, a wicked grin on his face.

“And where do you think you’re off to, madam?” he asked.

“These are not the rules, Spike. You’re not playing fair.” She shouted, uncaring of the consequences.

“Never said I would, love.”

He raised his eyebrows and stuck his tongue out, slowly sweeping it over his lips before tilting his head at her, and just at that moment all that she saw was another man who thought that he was so charming that god had sent him as a gift to woman kind. She forgot that he was a dangerous killer, forgot how it had felt when he’d swept his tongue over her most intimate of places and how her hand had felt on his. He was arrogance personified, as all men were and she wasn’t going to tolerate it for one moment longer.

“And neither did I,” she said, and with a hard shove sent him toppling over the edge of the high bed.

There was a thud and a muffled curse as he hit the ground and Buffy put her hand over her mouth. Possibly not the best thing she could have done in the circumstances. The problem was, as she waited for him to surface and probably break her neck at last, that although a cold terror was seeping through her veins at the thought of his wrath, all she wanted to do, unfortunately, was laugh.

Nerves mingled with terror, she told herself, and possibly the worse thing she could do. Weren’t men at their most evil when they were shown up to be fools? And particularly by a woman? She bit the inside of her cheek as she waited, hoping that no sound would come out as she started to shake. The look of surprise on his face as he’d gone over was still in her mind and surely he wasn’t going to suffer this indignity lightly?

For a moment it was very quiet and her need for laughter subsided as it was overridden by a desire to find out why he wasn’t jumping up with a roar and killing her, or finally attacking her and doing that other thing he’d been wanting to do all night. She leaned forward a little and peered over the side of the bed, every nerve on edge as she looked down.

He was lying very still and she felt a very irrational pang of concern at the thought that she’d hurt him. Concern? For this creature who’d treated her so cruelly? Her eyes narrowed as she took in his still form and then she slowly slid from the bed to her knees beside him. Why wasn’t he moving? And how could this have hurt someone so strong?

She reached out to shake him, but stopped herself.

She should run, now. God had obviously intervened and she’d be foolish not to take this chance. She stood up, her eyes never leaving him and gritted her teeth as the pain of her injured feet reminded her that she wasn’t going to get very far, very fast. Her boots, where were they? She looked around in panic and spotted them on the other side of the room where she’d dropped them. They were right in the middle of the scattered pieces of glass so she looked around for something to throw over the shards so that she could reach her boots safely and get herself away.

The key? He’d probably locked the door and it wasn’t in the lock, she could see that. Where would he put it? she asked herself, frantically scanning the room. His jacket. Probably in his jacket, or his trouser pocket she thought, locating his clothing where he’d dropped them.

She’d only taken two very painful steps towards them before her conscience got the better of her and she turned back to Spike, who still hadn’t moved. Could she leave him here, knowing that he might be seriously injured. Shouldn’t she check?

No, she told herself firmly. He’d shown her small mercy tonight and deserved no better than this. She was fighting for her life, she had no doubt about that. But when she looked back at him again it didn’t look as if he was breathing and her heart flipped right over.

She’d killed him.

Surely not? Her skin started to crawl at the thought. She’d taken a life.

‘Good.’ A small voice spoke to her from the darkest corner of her mind. If he’s dead, then you can get away. Go now and get as far away as possible from this place. But even as she was thinking it, she was dropping to her knees beside him, her shaking hand reaching out and tentatively touching his chest. She could see quite clearly now that he wasn’t breathing, nor could she feel any sign that his heart was still beating.

Her trembling skin was now starting to turn clammy as a cold sweat ghosted over her whole being. She was no better than he was she thought as she slowly lowered her head to find out whether his heart had truly stopped beating.

Run, the voice told her. I can’t she thought, I need to know what I’ve done. He’d told her he’d had a terrible disease, perhaps that’s what had made him so vulnerable?

She pressed her ear to his chest, one hand flat and holding herself steady, and listened.

Nothing. No movement, no sound. No doubting that he was dead, and she was touching a corpse. That thought made her spring away from him in horror. He’d always felt cold but now she did too, as if by touching him she’d caught that horrible thing he’d spoken of.

She needed to go. The panic was rising in her now and she was having trouble containing the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat at any moment. Ignoring the pain in her feet she ran cross the room and picked up Spike’s discarded jacket. No key. She searched the pockets again, dropped it and picked up his trousers. Again, nothing.

She looked around, her brain scrabbling to think of a place where it might be and that’s when she saw something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

The corpse was gone.

---------------------------------------------------------

Containing the laughter had been the worse part. And ignoring his demon who was telling him to jump her while she was listening to his heart. She’ll die of fright it told him gleefully. Then you can drink her down while she’s still hot, and won’t that be good?

Spike didn’t fool himself that she was doing it out of concern for his well being when she’d checked to see if he was still alive, but it had crossed his mind that she would probably find out at sometime during the night that he didn’t breath, or that his heart didn’t beat so he thought she might as well find it out now and have done with it. The panic he’d felt in her was just a bonus really, his demon had won that little round as he’d lain beneath her and listened to her blood rushing around and felt her frightened tremors.

When her back was turned he rose and moved noiselessly across the room, standing behind her and out of her sight. Then he was going to wait until she turned around but his demon thought it would be much funnier if he tapped her on the shoulder instead. Imagine how high she’s going to jump, it whispered with a chuckle.

Spike tried to resist the urge to scare her witless, although he knew that she was going to be just a shocked whenever she saw him, but he couldn’t. He leaned over her as she crouched to search his jacket once more and whispered ‘boo’ very quietly in her ear.

Buffy did jump. So hard, in fact, that the top of her head made contact with his nose in a very abrupt manner causing them both to cry out in pain.

Spike stepped back, clutching at his face while Buffy held both of her hands to the top of her head and just stared at him, her eyes growing wider and wider until suddenly she opened her mouth and let out a piercing scream. And she didn’t seem about to stop.

Spike took her by the arms but that just made her worse as she struggled to get away from him babbling over and over that he was supposed to be dead. He pulled her in close, holding her so tightly that she couldn’t move any more, all the while trying to get through to her that he wasn’t dead and that she was mistaken.

The more she struggled, the more his demon revelled in it and Spike felt his control slipping once more as waves of fear radiated off her skin. He could feel it, his face changing, his demon urging him on, the panic that she was going to see who he really was.

The game had turned deadly serious all of a sudden and he knew that if she saw him now, before he’d had any chance to explain all this, then any hope that she’d have eventually come to understand what he was would fly straight out of the window.

He buried his face in her shoulder as he fought for control, not daring to let her go because he knew that if she ran, then he’d lose it completely. His demon danced and rubbed his hands and licked his lips.

So close, it said, her blood, it’s calling you. All you have to do is open your mouth and bite. Go on, do it.

But the other voice that lived in his head was watching, and listening too. It was never very loud, William had been a quiet, unassuming kind of person. A poet and a philosopher who sat about dreaming of beautiful things that inhabited a perfect world. But he had his moments, and this was one of them.

Kiss her, he whispered. It’s your only hope, and hers.

Buffy gave one last, startled gasp as Spike’s mouth latched on to hers with all the desperation of someone who’s fighting for their very survival. At that moment his hysteria was quite equal to hers as he caught her hair and held her in place for his frantic mouth.

A thin stream of her blood invaded his senses as his sharp teeth scraped along her lip, but he ignored it and concentrated instead on the warm, wet slide of her mouth against his. He gave her no room for protest, held her arms firm when she tried to push him away and lifted her clear form the floor when she tried to kick him.

Two steps took him to the bed and he hitched her up onto it and jammed himself between her thighs, all the while never breaking contact with her mouth. His tongue pushed inside, pressing against hers and tasting every inch it could reach. Sweetness and light, that’s what she tasted of and he licked up every drop he could find because suddenly he wanted it so much.

He felt himself softening a little as he calmed down and his face changed back. His lips no longer pressed against hers with such a bruising intensity and she was no longer fighting him. He slowed his movements to a light, rhythmic caress still holding her in place because he wasn’t sure that she was listening to what he was trying to tell her, and he so urgently needed her to hear it.

Something that couldn’t be put in words, and something that he didn’t deserve. Something he’d lost hope of long ago. She did make him feel like a man again, no matter how much he denied it, and he was going to take everything he could get of it, even if it was just for one night.

He let go of her for a moment and she just looked at him, shaking her head as if she didn’t understand what was going on. Dropping his lips to hers once more he continued with his wordless plea, his hips moving as he pressed himself against her most sensitive parts.

He felt the moment at which she started kissing him back. The point at which her lips were no longer just receiving, but giving back in equal measure. Her hand came up to cup the back of his neck, her fingers tangled into his hair. Her hot breath fanned his face and he breathed it in, letting it warm him, and he allowed himself a small fantasy. Imagined that she wasn’t just doing this because her life depended on it.

He’d had countless lovers and they’d screamed and moaned and grunted under his touch. He’d heard them cry out their ecstatic release, seen them die in agony, felt their last breath leave their body and watched their souls depart for heaven, or hell, whatever they deserved.

But none of it touched him as much as this. Her soft lips delicately tasting his, her hand holding him in place with a whispered touch and her heat surrounding him. Reminding him of what he once was. This was a small vision of a heaven he would never see again, something to remember when the endless eternity of hell eventually claimed him.

Did she know what she did to him? He doubted it. What wouldn’t you do if your life was on the line? Her body did betray her, he could feel how much it wanted this. But would she ever want him as much as he wanted her?

Of course not, his demon said. You’re a monster through and through, and that’s all she sees when she looks at you.

I was a man once.

But you never will be again, no matter how much you fool yourself with this, his demon replied.

And spike had no answer to that.

Spike broke the kiss and Buffy breathed deeply, her chest heaving, her eyes never leaving his face. A swirl of emotions played over her features, revulsion, desire, desperation, longing. He watched them come and go as her eyes searched his, trying to understand what had just happened. Then he felt her hand on his chest, over the place where his heart used to beat as strongly as hers and her eyes narrowed as she listened and watched.

So he breathed for her because he wasn’t ready for her to know his dirty little secret yet. And she seemed relieved by that.

“I thought you were dead,” she said genuinely bewildered.

“Take a lot more than that to kill me love,” he said, his hands holding her loosely now as he stood between her legs.

“I thought I’d killed you.” Her face crumpled a little as she said it, but he didn’t fool himself that she was saying it because she thought he’d died. He could see what it was that was causing her eyes to mist up and a tormented look to cloud her features.

The thought that she’d taken a life, that she’d become a killer, like him. That’s what was upsetting her. That’s what was causing this violent rush of emotion to cloud her judgment and cause her to kiss him back with such wild abandon.

“Let me make love to you, Buffy.” One night, that’s all he had to convince her.

Her head whipped up and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Pleas let me make love to you.” He tightened his fingers on her hips as he spoke and pulled her further into him, moving his own hips as she came flush against him. Even through the thick material of her dress, he could feel her flowering and opening for him.

“I really want to be inside you, love.” He pitched his voce low and seductive all the while moving against her, watching her face change as her resistance melted away.

“I’ll make it really good for you.” Her gown was still partially open at the front, enough that he could bend his head and press light teasing kisses against the curves of her breasts. She did nothing to stop him, but it wasn’t because he’d taken her will from her. He could do that if he wanted to, but it would mean nothing like that.

“The soft, velvet skin of my cock brushing against your tight, hot woman - hood. I can feel it, Buffy. How much you want it. Let me make you feel good.”

Se looked as if he had mesmerised her. Startled by his words but insanely curious too. He could feel the battle she was fighting with herself. See the small movements she made towards him even as she tried to pull back. Part of her wanted to run, but another part wanted to know if his seductive words were true.

“A bargain?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said sweeping his hands down her thighs, over her knees, tugging at her skirt. She tried to close her legs when he did that, clamping them around him, but he pushed them back open with a hand on the inside of each thigh. “No, open up for me my sweet. Let me do this.”

She resisted slightly and then he felt the tension fall away, he was so painfully hard for her now that he was in danger of coming all over her dress. Her fingers were a hairs breadth away from him now and he knew that if she touched him, then he was lost.

“A bargain?” she repeated, her hand ghosting across the length of him without touching him.

“Yes,” he said, gritting his teeth. Even when she didn’t touch him, he could feel it.

“But whose?” she said curling her fingers around him. “Tell me whose bargain this is, Spike.”

Spike talking to his demon is in single quotation marks because it's internal monologue.

Chapter 6

An interesting dilemma faced her as his persuasive words assaulted and attacked her defences.

It felt good, and she had no doubt that he would make it good for her as he’d promised. So why shouldn’t she do this, if she wanted to? Why did society deny women this pleasure that men seemed to have freely available to them?

Because it would make you weak, the voice in her head said to her. If you give in now, without making him uphold your bargain then you will be like all those gullible women who have probably fallen for his sweet talking in the past. Once he’s had his way with you then who knows what will happen? Don’t be betrayed by momentary pleasures, it told her. Now is the time to be strong.

But how can I? she thought, when his touch is driving me mad with need. When I want this as much as he does?

“Spike,” she whispered as his hand continued stroking the bare flesh of her thighs. “Tell me you agree to my bargain.”

“What’s that love?” he mumbled against her cheek.

His tongue slid along the line of her jaw leaving a cool, wet trail and she arched back as he dipped to her throat and began to suck.

“Do you not remember?” she asked him, trying to push him away, but finding no strength left in her hands. He wasn’t forcing her, but he was pushing her forward just a little harder than she was pushing him away. Using just enough strength to lead her towards his intended goal without seeming as if he was making her do anything she didn’t do freely.

She knew what he was doing, yet, to her shame, was almost helpless to resist, like a donkey with a carrot dangling in front of it, she strained towards that sinful release that he’d already made her experience more than once.

“That’s right love,” he said pushing her back onto the bed and crawling up over her. “There’s nothing wrong in you wanting me as much as I want you. Just go with me.”

“Agree to my bargain, Spike, “she managed to say. “I’ll do this if you agree.”

“Anything,” he said as he pushed up her skirt. “Buffy,” his voice was urgent, almost at the point of breaking with some emotion she couldn’t define. It sounded too much like desperation, like the way he’d kissed her just now. He’d only known her a few hours, and could have taken her at any time, yet she’d reduced him to this. “Buffy,” he repeated again. Only you can save me. Show me I’m worth saving.”

And then he lifted his head and looked at her with such desolation that her heart nearly broke in two. There was a man still left in there, deny it though he might.

Her hand shook as she reached out and touched his hair. “What’s wrong with you, Spike? What is it that torments you so?”

“You,” he said, almost angrily, and she recoiled and moved her hand away, but he pulled it back and pressed a hard kiss into her palm. “See, you’ve made me into a madman. See what you do?”

She recoiled again, snatching back her hand as her heart froze at his words. Words that she’d hear before, and all too recently.

“Is that something all men say to excuse their base urges?” she said in a cool tone. "It’s all too easy to blame your lack of control on me, isn’t it? I’m such a temptress that I’ve made you mad with lust, isn’t that how the speech goes?”

Buffy stayed as she was and made no effort to cover herself. Legs open, skirts askew and with Spike kneeling between them, giving no real indication that he’d heard her apart from the thoughtful gaze he now directed at her most secret of places. A light finger marked a pattern on the inside of her thigh and she suddenly felt all the fight drain out of her.

“Do what you like,” she said. “For I am truly past caring. Here.” Taking his hand she flattened his palm higher along the inside of her thigh. “Isn’t this where you were? Pray, do continue.”

They were both mad she decided. Both sliding down some slippery slope from which there would be no return. His words had broken the sensual spell he’d been weaving around her and now all she felt was cold, like him.

Spike’s eyes narrowed as his fingers continued their exploration. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I have morals,” he said. “I know you don’t mean me to really. I know I’m supposed to be a gentleman now and say I couldn’t possibly take you up on such an offer when it would offend you so. But if you say it once more, Buffy, I will do it. All I need is your consent.”

She gave a dry laugh even as she was squirming under his busy fingers. “You don’t need it, you just want it to make you feel better about all this.”

“I meant it, you know.” Spike reached forward and took her by the chin, forcing her to look at him. “Only you can save me, Buffy.”

She shook him off, angry at his arrogance. “And why should I want to save you? You’re going to hell, Spike. How many people have you killed without so much of a backward glance? The sailor wasn’t the first, was he? No, Spike, you are beyond saving, and you want to drag me to hell with you. We’re all going to hell,” she screamed at him.

Her outburst was followed by a short, hysterical laugh and then she spoke again, softly this time, her words laced with a quiet conviction , her body sagging in resignation.

“We’re all going to hell, Spike.”

---------------------------------------------------

He didn’t need her to tell him that. It was the one thing he’d been sure about since this thing had happened to him, but to hear the words stated, out loud and with such surety made his skin prickle. And somehow he thought she’d have been stronger than this, but he hadn’t counted on the fact that someone had been there before him to push her so near the edge that the slightest nudge was going to send her right over.

His demon complimented the man who’d done this. 'A fine job,' it said, 'listen and learn, William. Is not a person driven by desperation to the edge of insanity, the most amusing of creatures?'

Spike loosened his hold and rubbed his thumb over her chin, letting it linger on her bottom lip. The light of passion that had driven her speech had faded and all he saw now was an emptiness that was a reflection of his own self.

'Take away the man and what do are you left with?'

'Me,' his demon said. 'Now be a good boy and take her.'

'Nothing,' Spike told it. 'I am nothing.'

'You insult me,' his demon sniffed.

“We need each other, Buffy.”

She shook her head. “No we don’t. You just want to confuse me with your lies. How can you need me?” she asked, “when a few hours ago you didn’t even know I existed?”

“Maybe I knew you were out there, and just had to find you.”

“Or maybe you’re just a man with clever words who drips honey from his tongue? And I’m sure the ladies find it all too appealing. Well, I’ve heard it once too often." She turned her face away, but he turned it back.

“And where did you hear it?”

She tried to turn away once more, but he wouldn't let her. “Buffy,” he said. “Look at me and tell me who. " He caught and held her gaze. "There’s a good girl, just keep looking at me and tell me who it was drove you to this.”

'Shall I help?' His demon asked hopefully. 'Her will is far too strong for you.'

'No, I can do this,' Spike told him, brushing the demon away. “Buffy , tell me what I want to know.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I, I just want to understand. Talk to me.”

'Not working, is it?' his demon said.

Spike could see that. She was hovering on the brink, but she wasn’t about to divulge her secret any time soon, and Spike couldn’t ignore his demon for much longer, either. Too much emotion, and it made the man weak. William couldn’t possibly fight it when he felt this overwhelmed. 'Alright, help me,' he said in a desperate tone.

'I thought you would never ask,'' his demon said. 'I’m here for you William, you know that…'

'For heaven’s sake,' Spike screamed silently at it. 'Just stop talking and do it.'

Spike’s eyes glowed yellow. Only very faintly and Buffy’s eyes flared a little wider.

“That’s it,” Spike said in a low voice. “Was it the man with the fair hair?”

“I won’t tell you,” she said quietly and closed her eyes. “You can’t make me.”

Spike took her by the arms and gave her a shake, but she refused to open them.

'You’re supposed to be helping me,' he said to the demon.

'I am,' the demon replied, irritably. 'Try again.'

“Buffy, open your eyes,” Spike commanded her, but instead she just went loose and floppy and sagged back as he held her.

“No,” she said simply. “I’m not afraid of you any more, Spike, because I don’t care what you do to me any more. You have no power over me, no man has.” And with that she sank gracefully against the pillows and just lay there.

'What the hell was that?' Spike shouted at the demon.

'Hell if I know,' his demon shouted back. 'If you’d killed her when I told you to this wouldn’t be happening, it’s your fault.'

'You’re supposed to be the one with all the bloody power,' Spike said running a hand through his hair in frustration. 'I don’t understand, It worked before.'

'That was before you opened yourself up to her you stupid boy. She’s seen your weakness, and she’s a woman. You know what that means, don’t you?'

'Don’t you dare go there,' Spike warned his demon. 'You’re supposed to be helping me here, not raking over old coals.'

'Well, maybe she’s a witch,' his demon said retreating into a sulk.

'Of course she’s not a witch,' Spike said looking dubiously at Buffy’s reclining form. 'Is she? Wouldn’t we be able to tell?'

His demon looked too, peering at the lifeless-looking girl and then retreating again. 'She’s cast a spell on you, hasn’t she?'

'Is that it? Why I’m feeling like this?'

'Why don’t you ask her, you idiot?' his demon said in a voice laced with sarcasm. 'What other explanation could there be other than that you are a pathetic fool, and a sorry excuse for a vampire. One small girl drives you to your knees. Oh well, I suppose it’s not the first time.'

'I said don’t go there,' Spike snarled.

'Cecily,' his demon said.

“No,” Spike shouted, out loud this time. Buffy jumped and he felt her body tense as she prepared herself for him to vent his anger on her. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t be tempted.

'Beneath her? Weren’t those her words?'

“No,” Spike cried out again and this time he flung himself down beside Buffy, picked up a pillow and squashed it against his face. He would quite happily have strangled his demon, who was now sporting a smug smile on its face, right there and then had he been strong enough. He felt Buffy stirring beside him and then what he presumed to be her hand tugging at the pillow, which he held onto even more tightly.

“Spike?” she tugged again, and then he heard the strangest of sounds. Strange not because he’d never heard it before, but because it was most unexpected. She was shaking, he could feel that even though he couldn’t see her, but not with fear. It was laughter he could hear. Hysterical and uncontrolled laughter getting louder and louder by the second. In the end he had to lower the pillow just to see what was so funny. No doubt it was directed at him and his antics, and probably well deserved.

It annoyed him though, to be the butt of the joke from both his demon and her. He sat up abruptly, flinging the pillow aside, but when he turned to her he found that she wasn’t even looking at him. The laughter seemed to be directed at nobody and nothing in particular, yet she shook with it and tears poured down her face. Then she did look at him, stopping momentarily and pointing at the pillow then to his face, and that started her up again.

Spike was at a total loss as to what to do. Now she definitely was laughing at him and he didn’t know whether he ought to be joining in or being angry with her. William had been such a pompous prat, and had taken himself and his abysmal poetry so seriously, that the notion that he was ridiculous enough to have been the cause of hysterical laughter had never once crossed his mind.

Spike saw himself suddenly, scribbling away in a corner, his mind on what he'd always fancied to be loftier things than making idle chit chat at parties. He saw a man who’d spent the best part of a year mooning after a girl who was neither worth the trouble, nor had ever once done him a kind deed, or shown him any affection whatsoever. All he’d succeeded in doing with his poetry and his clumsy advances was to win her contempt.

It was funny, looking back at it now and it did make him laugh. Buffy looked a little startled when he started up and as he wound himself up she quietened down and watched him with narrowed eyes. The laughter was short - lived however because, amusing as it was to view William’s antics from this perspective, it was also very sad. Painfully so, and as so often happens with hysterical laughter, the fine line between that and tears of self-pity is soon breached.

Spike felt himself losing control in a way that he hadn’t done since the night a dark-haired beauty had caught him alone, and distraught, in a stable off a dark alleyway. A night that had changed his life once and for all, he’d thought at the time. But he’d been wrong. It was changing again.

And again, because of a woman.

Tears began to spill and course their way down his cheeks as he realised that becoming a vampire had changed nothing. Try as he might it still came down to this. Him on his hands and knees begging for affection from a woman who couldn’t care less. And even more pathetic because then, he might have said he deserved a little more than Cecily had doled out to him. William had been a good man, even if he couldn’t write poetry to save his life. But Spike? How did he justify asking anything of this woman?

He groped for the pillow to cover his face again, but instead felt himself being pulled towards soft warmth, by gentle hands. He tried to pull away, but she was a lot more successful at taking his will than he’d been with hers, so he gave in and let her hold him.

At that moment, he just felt so tired of it all. The chase, the fear, the kill. Constantly living on the edge. The edge of society, the edge of life, the edge of reason.

'You used to enjoy being a vampire,' his demon said, shaking its head.

“What is it that torments you so, Spike?” Buffy’s voice floated through to his befuddled senses.

'Perhaps it is what you need,' his demon said wrinkling its brow and tilting its head. 'I don’t understand what is happening either, but perhaps it is.'

She pulled him down with her into the mattress and her hand was on his hair, smoothing it back insistently.

“Make love to me, Spike," she whispered into his thick, slicked - back curls. "We’re both lost souls tonight, but perhaps we can take some comfort in each other.”

He tensed sharply at her words and then even more so when she shifted and he felt her circling his cock once more. Two strokes and he was already coming in her hand and he marvelled that it had taken that long. As the spasms subsided she leaned over him and kissed him, first lightly on the lips and then progressing to cover every inch of his face with feather - light touches of her mouth. When she found tears she licked them away with the tip of her tongue and then she made her way across the line of his jaw and down to his throat, where she mimicked his earlier action, and sucked at the skin until he felt the small blood vessels bursting and marking him as he had her.

“You must tell me if I’m doing this right,” she said as her mouth worked its way to his chest in a series of nips and kisses. “Do you like this?”

He almost went hysterical again. “Yes,” he managed at last. "I like it.”

'Too much,' his demon said.

'It’s always been my problem,' Spike told it. 'Just let me have this, please.'

His demon raised its hands in resignation. 'Don’t get too attached,' it warned him. 'They never stay, even if you turn them, they never stay.'

'This is different,' Spike told it. 'I know this is different.'

His demon raised a sceptical eyebrow and withdrew. 'If you need me….'

'I know,' Spike replied. 'Do you think she may be different?' He asked. 'Perhaps she will stay?'

His demon shook its head. 'You always make that mistake my boy. Always assume that all vampires will be like you. Haven’t you realised by now what an exception you are?'

Bloody hell, Spike thought as she reached his stomach and her hair trailed after her hot mouth and tongue. Can’t be a man, can’t be a proper vampire. What the bloody hell am I?

The demon had no answer for him, but maybe this girl who was turning him inside out with the innocence of her touch did? Perhaps she was a witch after all? How else did he explain what was happening to him. He may have been a fool for love, but he’d never been this foolish, had he?

----------------------------------------------------------

It's fitting, she thought. Tonight she seemed doomed to run the gamut of every emotion she’d ever experienced, and some she never had. And whether this was right or wrong had no place in the argument any more. Neither of them had control over the other right now and it was liberating in a way she’d never experienced before. Just then they both had something that the other wanted desperately and, for the first time since she’d met him, it almost allowed them to meet as equals.

There was something more than mere sexual need in the way he responded to her inexpert caresses and he seemed to be reaching out and giving back to her with everything he had.

What is it that he wants? She thought, wondering at his earlier words. I can’t save you from hell, Spike, she thought, as her exploring mouth reached the curly hair surrounding his cock. She sat back and looked at him as he lay half-dazed beside her.

“Tell me what else you want me to do, and help me with this dress, Spike. Would you like me to take it off?”

“Lift you arms,” he said sitting up and reaching for her. The dress came off in one fluid movement and then, without hesitation, he reached for her camisole.

There was only time for a brief moment of modesty before that too floated to the floor and she was naked before him for the first time that evening.

“Lie down,” he said and when she hesitated he added, “please, I want to look at you.”

He wasn’t relaxed, she could see that, and, despite her earlier caresses, he looked tense and his voice carried a hint of anger. She had no idea whether this was directed at her or at his plight, whatever it was. Probably a little of both. I came here to whore for him and all I’ve given him is a monumental headache, she thought, ruefully.

Men didn’t like it when they perceived women to be teasing them and leading them on, she knew that well enough. And it seemed that a woman only had to exist for her to be accused of being the very embodiment of Eve herself, sent to tempt them and destroy their paradise.

“Like this?" She asked him and reclined back against the pillows.

He didn’t move for a long while, just stared at every inch of her, it seemed, all the while making her hotter and hotter with his gaze alone. Then he lifted his hands and, starting with her hair, he traced the whole shape of her body from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. An act of possession, unlike anything else he’d done to her since they’d met.

Not even him locking her in the room had felt as if he’d really had any claim to her, but the way he touched her now, so sure and just a little too hard, sent her as clear a signal as she’d ever heard. And when she did hear it, a shiver ran the length of her body causing him to look deep into her eyes as if to say that they didn’t need words. They both knew how things stood.

He stopped for a moment then, as if he was giving her a choice in the matter.

“Would you like me to continue?" He asked her in a quiet voice.

In response she took his hand and put it back, just below her breast.

“I suppose you’ve received many compliments to your beauty?" he inquired, in an almost conversational tone, as his finger drew a circle around her nipple.

It was hard to focus on coherent thought when he was igniting such a flame in her but she managed a shrug, then nodded. “Yes,” she said, “But I’ve never believed it meant anything. A man will say anything to flatter a woman. There are usually ulterior motives, aren’t there?”

Spike smiled at that. “There are indeed. Anyway, you’re not beautiful.”

“I’m not?” She’d said the words before she could stop herself, vain though it sounded, and couldn’t hide the disappointment in her tone.

“No,” he said simply. “It’s not a good enough word for you. You glow, from the inside, as if you were from another place. Are you sure you’re not a fairy, or something from another world? A witch perhaps?”

“Spike, why should I be a witch? If you desire me, and you just told me yourself that there is nothing wrong with that, why do you seem so intent on blaming your loss of control on me. Have I done anything other than simply be here? Have I deliberately tempted you beyond reason, with imagined promises?”

“Well you did promise me sex, isn't that what you came here for?” he said in a matter- of- fact tone. “And I haven’t had any yet, so you can understand where I stand on this?”

Having apparently finished his scrutiny, he lay down beside her and pulled her close with an arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t think you brought me here just for that,” she replied.

Hard and soft, cold and hot, man and woman, evil and good, he was the opposite of her in every way.

Except for this strange need that they appeared to have for each other, which was the place where they seemed to meet and merge, and the rules of the real world no longer applied. “The rules changed, did they not?” she said.

“They did, Buffy. But why did you say that, what is it that you won’t tell me? Are you afraid it will give me power over you?”

Buffy felt him start to relax at last. No longer so hard against her, and his hand had moved from her shoulder to slip under her arm so that his fingers just grazed the curve of her breast. Every now and then he let it slip idly down to her waist, and he tickled her and made her squirm, This seemed to amuse him, until she took his hand and placed it back at her breast.

“I prefer this,” she said. “Does it shock you that I’m asking you to do it?”

“No, love” he said, as his fingers complied with her request. “I like the way you play the innocent sex - goddess. It’s what all men look for in a woman. The saintliness of a Madonna in public, and the skills of a high class prostitute in the bedroom.”

“But surely not all men are like that?" she said moving her own hand over his body now, and feeling a different tension building in him, as it was in her.

“I’m afraid so,” he told her and then before she could blink he’d rolled on top of her, his full weight on her and his hand pushing her hair out of her eyes. He held on to a large clump of it as if he were afraid that she would still want to run away even though she was effectively trapped beneath him.

His cock rubbed against the inside of her thigh and everything about him seemed ready to do what he’d been wanting to all evening. She only had to give the word.

“So,” he said. “Some chap’s been hounding you to give it up to him, and when you wouldn’t he’s blamed his obsession on you, told you it’s your fault for being such a tease? Am I right?”

Buffy nodded. How can he know this, is he a mind reader? She thought.

“Wasn’t hard to guess, love. Who was he?” Spike let go of the painful grip he’d had on her hair and pushed it back out of her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “You’ll think me too wicked.”

“I doubt that pet,” he said, and then she felt his fingers between her already wet, folds opening her and making her even wetter. “Will you give it up to me, Buffy?”

She bit her lip as he found a particularly sensitive spot and rubbed at it relentlessly.

“Will it feel like this?” she asked clutching at his hand as he worried her sensitive skin, both trying to hold him off and keep him there at the same time as the ache was almost became unbearable.

“Eventually,” he said with a smile as he batted her hand away. “Give me room to work, woman. It’s going to hurt if it’s your first time. Is it your first time, Buffy?”

“Yes,” she said, a little startled by the bluntness of his words. She had heard that it hurt a woman initially, and that you wouldn't fall with child during the first time either, but hearing him say it, and knowing it was imminent started a panic in her and he seemed to understand what was happening.

“Good,” he said, “and I shouldn’t have said it like that.” He caught her hand as she tried to push him away. “Shh, calm down, I said I’d make it good for you, and I will, soon, but we have to do this first. It will only hurt for a moment, I promise.”

Buffy tried to get her breathing under control as he stared at her.

“First you have to say yes,” he said. And when she opened her mouth to speak, he covered it with his hand so that she couldn’t. “And I’ve already decided to let you go, so don’t ask that. Just tell me exactly what you want, Buffy, and I’ll do it.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you can go now,” he said without altering his expression.

“I think that you must be very good at cards,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“I am,” he replied and his voice was a little thicker now, showing that he didn’t have as much control as his carefully bland expression conveyed. “Do you want us to do this?”

It was the change to the word ‘us’ rather than the ‘I’ and ‘me’ he’d been using all evening that undid her in the end. Before she’d only thought of the act as something to be done to her, and as a whore then that is how it would have been, but now suddenly, it was about the two of them. Not only did she have to decide whether she wanted him to do this to her, she had to decide whether she wanted to do it to him as well. And it was, it seemed, entirely in her hands.

And this virginity of hers was nothing but a liability, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind. If she gave it to Spike, who seemed at least a little concerned about her feelings in the matter, then that other man couldn’t have it. Even if he did find her, it was something he could never take from her.

“Don't make it hurt too much,” she said gritting her teeth and clutching at his shoulders. “I’m ready now.”

“You’ve got to relax, love,” Spike said “It’ll hurt more if you’re tense.”

She took a breath and loosened her hold. “Alright, I’m relaxed.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, “but you’re a brave girl, I can see that. Open your legs and bend your knees for me, my sweet. Pretend I’m him, that man you keep imagining that you see in me.”

“What was he called?” Buffy asked as Spike wriggled his hips into position between her bent legs.

“William,” he said and then she felt his hardness separating and opening her.

She couldn’t help tensing because it did hurt, just as he’d promised. “William,” she gasped. “It’s a nice name.”

Well prepared for him as she was, her insides protested every inch of his intrusion. “Is it always like this?” she said digging her nails into his shoulders and squeezing her eyes shut. “Tell me it won’t always be like this.”

His voice was low and rough when he replied. “No, no, only this first time. Buffy, I promise. Now kiss me.”

She did as she was told, glad of the distraction as his lips took hers. He kissed her with passion, in between murmuring words that were impossible to decipher because at that moment she couldn’t concentrate on anything else but the feel of his hard mouth on hers and the feel of him inside her.

The pain subsided somewhat as he stopped pushing into her and she sighed with relief that the ordeal was over at last. He kept still for a while as he concentrated on the kiss and worked a response from her. She lifted her head to kiss him back and wondered what he would do next. He’d promised her pleasure, and she was more than ready for it. As the pain receded she was beginning to feel the pleasurable tremors that she’d felt earlier when he’d cleaned her foot and touched her down there. It isn’t so bad she thought.

And then he did it.

With one sharp thrust he tore through her maidenhead, and she would have cried out because the pain that had come before was nothing compared to this, but he still had his mouth on hers.

He’s trying to distract me, she thought gratefully and gave herself up to the kiss once more, resolutely ignoring the dull ache that had replaced the sharp pain of his penetration.

“Is it still hurting?” he asked her lifting his head.

“Yes,” she said, “but it’s not so bad, just that bit…”

“When I took your virginity?”

His words made her blush and she turned away, but he turned her back.

“I’ve made you cry,” he said scanning her face.

“And that surprises you?” Buffy replied wiping away the tears herself. “There, they are of no consequence, they’re gone.”

“I’m glad it was me,” he said. “That you gave it to me, and not him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“And you do?” She didn’t say it unkindly and sucked in a breath when he gave a shallow thrust inside her.

“No, no I don’t,” he replied, “but the fact that you let me…” His voice trailed away. “Need to start moving now, love.”

He was still waiting, she realised and he looked at that moment like a man gazing at the face of his salvation. Perhaps God has sent me here to save him, she thought wildly as he moved again, despite his best efforts to keep still.

“Make love to me, Spike,” she said and she saw him narrow his eyes in surprise. He’d been expecting her to call him William, she guessed, as much by his slightly shocked expression as the way he mouthed the word Spike and tilted his head at her. The look on his face was almost one of gratitude as he started to move carefully inside her.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he said as he slipped his hand beneath her hips and lifted her to meet him.

“It does, feel, better,” she said, each word spoken on one of his thrusts. “Just make love to me, William, Spike, and whoever else you have in that head of yours.”

His rhythm faltered momentarily when she said that, and when she looked at him she had the distinct impression of his eyes flashing a golden yellow before turning back to his customary blue. Something else men did when in the throes of passion? She had a lot to learn. Then his mouth slid down to her neck, to where she’d cut herself earlier and he latched onto the small tear and sucked hard.

She felt the mild sting as it opened and there it was again. The aching low down that pulsed in time with his mouth as he sucked on the wound. Then it all became too much. His cock moving inside her, filling her and stroking her most intimate places, his thumb circling the hard secret spot that sent small streaks of lightning radiating through her belly and down her thighs, his greedy mouth pulling at her.

Each one had started as separate and distinct feelings, but soon they melted into a blur of sensation that filled her whole world. That was the point at which she tried to fight him, because she didn’t want to lose herself. But he wasn’t having it and held onto her until it was too late for her to do anything but go with him to the place that only he’d ever taken her.

Heaven or Hell? It felt like a bit of both all mixed together. It both enthralled her and scared her witless, like a place to which you are drawn, despite the fear that you might never come back.

But once you’ve been there, you always want to go back. Even as he rolled from her she was groping for him and asking him not to leave her there alone.

“Shh,” he said. Not going anywhere pet.”

But he was. She reached for him again as he crawled down her body and rested his head on her thigh.

“There’s blood,” he said, his voice sounding as if it came from a long way away. “Let me clean you up.”

And in keeping with what was turning out to be the most bizarre evening of her life, the only answer she had for him, as his mouth closed on her aching woman-hood was a breathless, “yes.”

Chapter 7

Spike had thought that only one of two things might happen as a consequence of his unlocking the bedroom door. She would find it open and leave. Or she would find it open, but choose to stay. For the former he would never see her again and for the latter he would have her here, his willing slave, for as long as he chose to enjoy her.

She shifted against him in her sleep as he held her, possessively, not in the slightest bit inclined to let her go, but for some strange reason feeling compelled to uphold his part of the bargain he’d made with her. He’d told her that he would release her and even if he hadn’t said that, he would still have unlocked the door. How else would he ever find out if she would stay of her own accord?

Should she choose to leave then he knew he could catch her easily, and he wondered, as his hand traced the smooth line of her body, just how far he’d actually let her get before he did go after her.

‘Setting yourself up for disappointment, my boy,’ his demon said. ‘What possible reason could she have to stay?’

‘This,’ Spike said moving his flat palm to her stomach and rubbing light circles, lower and lower until she whimpered in her sleep.

‘Ahh, your prowess as a lover? You think she will stay because she will never find any man better than you? You don’t know women at all, do you William?’

‘She has nothing to compare me with,’ Spike said and slipped a finger inside her, watching her face carefully as she woke up. Her mouth formed a small circle as she tipped her head back into the pillows, her legs shifting apart to give him better access.

‘See,’ Spike said. ‘I’ll make her want me so much that she’ll be my slave and she’ll never even think of leaving.’

‘All you’ll do is make her curious,’ the demon said. ‘She’ll be forever wondering if other men are as well endowed, whether they can perhaps show her more than you have. Women are never satisfied. The more you give them, the more they want.’

‘Then I’ll just have to make sure she is satisfied,’ Spike said moving over her and teasing her with the tip of his cock.

“You like that, don’t you love?” He stroked it along her sensitive folds and felt her hips shift restlessly against him. “Would you like me to make love to you again?” he asked as her eyes fluttered open. “Shall I come inside you, Buffy? I’ll do it if you ask me.”

Buffy bit her lip, but it was only a moment of hesitation and the rest of her body had already made its decision, he could feel that much. He’d slide in easily this time both because she was growing wetter with each of his shallow thrusts and because her virgin barrier was no longer there to hinder either of them.

Spike propped himself on one elbow and used his free hand to caress every part of her he could reach. Every touch sent a shiver the entire length of her body and when he bent his head to kiss her breast, she arched towards him.

“Yes,” she said, her lips moving against his hair as he nuzzled into her delicious neck that still held the lingering smell of the blood he’d taken from her. “I’d like you to do it again.”

She spoke quietly and a little hesitantly, but Spike put that down to shyness and good breeding rather than fear or resistance. Her hands were roaming his back now, the fingernails scraping lightly as she pulled him to her, her hips rising and falling in time with his movements. He held back, sliding the length of his body against her but leaving her just short of what she wanted.

“Spike?” She lifted her head and looked at him with sleepy eyes. “I said yes.”

“How much do you want it, Buffy?” Soft skin quivered under his expert touch and he could taste her desire as he carefully kissed his way down her body. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“I don’t know,” Buffy said. “Please,” she wriggled against him, “I want you to do it.”

Spike rolled them both so that she was on top, draped over him, her hair tickling his chest as it fell forward over her surprised face. Holding her under the arms he straightened his and lifted her, sliding her down his body so that his cock was nestling against the cleft of her buttocks. Buffy braced her hands on his shoulders and looked at him, a question in her eyes.

“Make love to me,” he told her. “Show me how much you want me.”

“How?” she asked clearly, at a loss as to what he wanted her to do.

“Like this,” he said and lifted her up. “Guide me inside, Buffy, it won’t hurt so much this time, I promise.”

She did as she was told, much to his relief for his control was rapidly fading under the assault of her arousal. The air was heavy enough with their mingled scents without him having the acute senses of a vampire, and it was a sweet torture having her so near to him when she was like this.

She sank down onto to him and he continued to hold her, letting her down slowly and holding her still when her breath caught between her teeth with a small hiss.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, keeping his urge to thrust up into her firmly in check.

“Just a little sore,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

Her expression was one of earnestness rather than ecstasy as she took him deep inside her. Like a good student who wants to please her teacher by learning everything there is to know.

So he taught her and showed her how to move so that she pleased him and pleasured herself at the same time and she gave him such a look of wide-eyed wonder when she finally fell into a satisfactory rhythm that he almost laughed out loud. The sound died in his throat though as she suddenly reached behind her and took his balls in her hand propelling him into a hard, shuddering climax that had him reaching frantically for her, because he wanted her there with him.

Spike caught her as she fell against him in a slippery, glowing heap and he listened to her laboured breathing and her hammering heart as she came back to earth. His should be labouring too with all this exertion, and her ear was resting right over the centre of his chest, so he pulled her higher and laid her head on the pillow next to him. Much as he liked her as close to him as possible in the blissful aftermath he still hadn’t a clue how he was going to explain the real reason for his torment.

‘And you never will,’ the demon told him, clearly uncomfortable with this tenderness. It retreated as far back as it could go, curling its lip in distaste. ‘I’m hungry,’ it said.

‘You’re always hungry,’ Spike replied turning his attention back to Buffy who was still breathing heavily beside him. ‘Watch and learn,’ he told his sulking demon. ‘This is how I intend to keep her here.’

“Was it good, Buffy? Did you enjoy doing it like that?”

“I didn’t know,” she said staring at the ceiling, then rolling her face towards him. “That I could…”

“Be on top?” Spike finished her sentence for her, but she only frowned.

“No, I was going to say that I could make love to you. I’d thought about it, but I didn’t know.”

“I have a lot more to teach you,” he said and lifted a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. The last of the candles sputtered and went out and she jumped at the sudden darkness and clutched at his arm.

“It’s alright.” He reached for her and gathered her close. “Told you I wasn’t going to hurt you. Have I given you further reason to think otherwise?”

Despite his words she still shivered so he stroked her back and murmured soft words of reassurance because he still knew how to do that. Only this time he wasn’t lulling an unsuspecting victim into a false sense of security so that he could kill them. He was desperately trying to hold on to this woman who, in a matter of hours had managed to turn his whole existence around.

“I don’t like the dark,” was all she said in response to his question.

“Then stay close,” Spike told her. He pulled the quilt over them both and circled her with his arms. “I’ll stand between you and all the creatures of the night,” he said. “Just stay close.”

“Like a knight in shining armour?”

“If you’d like me to be.”

This was a strange and confusing feeling. His demon told him so and he had to agree with it. Not even as William had he felt the urge to protect and defend anyone because he’d never got as far as having anyone to lavish this kind of feeling on. His whole life had been one of the pursuit of unattainable goals. Always running after the prize and never winning it.

But as Spike he’d gone the other way and squandered it all, just because he could. His desire to possess and hold on always being thwarted by his blood lust and his inability to make even another vampire love him for long.

“It would be nice,” she said in a wistful tone.

“But?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Are there really many ways to make love?”

“There are, Buffy and I’ll teach you every one of them. Would you like me to do that?”

“I don’t know, Spike. I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am.”

“Yes you should,” he answered fiercely and tightened his arm so that she squealed. “You were made for this, Buffy. To do this with me and only me. I don’t ever want another man to touch you.”

“You would set me up as your mistress then?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want, Spike.” She sighed deeply, sounding almost disappointed at his offer and rolled her weight away from him.

Spike loosened his arm and let her go. The moment of truth. Did he keep her here under duress or take a chance? And what would a betting man give that he’d win this one?

“The door’s unlocked,” he said in a voice of quiet resignation. “I’ve kept my word, you’re free to go.”

Buffy laughed. Just a small giggle, slightly hysterical, but nothing like the hysteria that had overcome her earlier.

“It’s easy for you to make that gesture when you know very well that I cannot go anywhere. Not tonight anyway. What am I to do? Walk back to town in my torn dress, in the dark? And even if I knew the way, how far would I get with my feet in this condition?”

“It will still be unlocked tomorrow,” he said resolutely, determined to go through with this now he’d set his course. “You’re free to go whenever you’re ready.”

“But I have nowhere to go, Spike.”

“Then stay here, with me.” It sounded much too needy so he added, “do I still scare you?”

“A little.” It was too dark for her to see him so he let his eyes change momentarily so that he could see her. Sadness and pain clouded her eyes at that moment and he felt another unaccustomed stab of unfamiliar emotion. This time, guilt because he’d added to the terror that had already been there.

“You’ve got to believe that I would never hurt you then. Could you do that?”

“I want to,” she said sadly. “You’ve no idea how much I want to.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

He said he’d never hurt her, and the words did sound sincere, but she’d witnessed him commit murder with the practiced ease of one who’d done something many times before. There was a dark side that warred with this earnest, young man who gazed at her now with such expectation in his eyes. If she stayed she was taking a great risk, she knew that.

Just then she had no idea who was the seducer and who was the seduced. He led her on with tantalising promises of wicked delights, and she seemed to have the ability to turn him from a vicious killer to a tender lover in the blink of an eye. Both of them appeared to have something the other wanted, or even needed, almost as if fate had put two halves together to make up a complete thing. Spike had seen it right from the start, but she was having a harder time with it. Carnal delights? Satisfaction of the flesh? Is that really all that was keeping her here?

She couldn’t even argue that it was the lure of a safe haven that had stopped her from beating the door down with her bare hands and running on crippled feet into the dark night. This place, as yet, offered no guarantees in that direction.

“Spike,” she asked him “What do you see when you look at me?”

She could feel him staring at her intently, even in the darkness, before eventually answering.

“A lost soul,” he said. “And strength. You have no idea how strong you are, Buffy. But I can see it, and I can feel it.”

“You cling to it, Spike, yet strength is something you already have. I don’t understand.”

“Different kind of strength, love. Yours isn’t physical, it comes form the inside, from here.” His palm flattened over her heart. “You still have the capacity to love and inspire love.”

“And you don’t?” Buffy covered his hand with hers.

“What do you see when you look at me, Buffy?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Answer mine first.”

Spike’s hand shook slightly under hers, and again, she was aware of it. The power she could have over him, should she choose to use it.

“A lost soul too,” she said simply. Then added, “No, that’s not quite it, more like someone who feels they have lost their soul. Am I right?”

“You are a bloody witch.” He pulled back the quilt and kissed the back of her hand, letting his lips linger on each of her fingers in turn. “And I’ll never get enough of you,” he said working his way across her breast with his mouth, each kiss harder than the next.

“Is this how you intend to keep me here?” The now familiar tingling was already starting low-down, her private parts starting to throb and ache. He only had to touch her for that to happen. She kept herself as still as she could wondering if she could completely resist his assault on her senses, or whether she would always, inevitably capitulate. Spike renewed his efforts at her apparent indifference, but she heard his low laugh in between the icy kisses.

“Can feel it love and hear it. You can’t hide it from me. I know how much you want me to do this.”

“Perhaps that’s true,” she managed in a relatively normal voice. “I do want this, but all it means is that I am a wanton tease. And I already know that. It’s not enough to keep me here Spike. In fact it gives me more reason to want to leave.”

“Why?” Spike lifted his head, a dark shape beside her.

“I could lose myself in these wicked pleasures, forget the outside world exists, but that would be denying everything that I am. You said it yourself,” she took his hand and pressed it back over her heart, “this is what matters. This is what endures.”

‘I knew it,’ his demon said. ‘So like a woman. You know what she wants, don’t you?’

“You want me to tell you I love you?” Spike’s voice held a bitterness that she hadn’t heard before. He snatched back his hand and rolled away from her. Buffy didn’t try to follow him, and when he next spoke it was in a voice of barely controlled anger.

“You want me to say I love you, to cut myself open and lay myself at your feet so that you can laugh at me and trample all over me? Is that what you want? Well, it’s tough, you’re too late.”

Buffy risked touching him and persevered, even though he flinched and she could feel his muscles hard with tension. “Is that why you hide here, in this spooky old house? Was it an affair of the heart that drove you to this?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer and remained stiff under her touch, so she settled her cheek against his shoulder and threaded her fingers into his hair.

“I could stay because I need a place of safety, or I could stay because I like the way you touch me and I want to learn more, but these are not good enough reasons, Spike. I ran away from home because I wanted to remain the master of my own destiny. How can I do that if I just let you keep me here?”

“Damn,” Spike said. “A woman capable of intellectual thought.”

“Some of us are,” Buffy replied with a smile on her lips. “I don’t need pretty promises or false declarations. I just need something real. Give me a good reason to stay and then,” she let her fingers walk across his chest, “I will also be able to appreciate these other benefits. I do need a place to stay, Spike, but I have no idea what the morning light will bring.”

“That’s true enough,” Spike said.

‘Told you it wouldn’t work.’ His demon added.

“Alright,” Spike said. “I do need someone to save me, stay for that.”

“Save you from what? I need to know what you’re so scared of,” Buffy said wishing that she could see in the dark. It was so much easier to know what people wanted when you could see their faces.

“From myself, Buffy.”

“You don’t like yourself?”

“On the contrary, I do, and that’s the problem. You must already know I’m not a very nice person.”

“You’re a killer, Spike.” The words managed to come out quite normally, as if she was making conversation at a tea party and that alone, told her how far she’d come tonight. “Yet, I can trust you enough to be this intimate with you. And intimacy is one of the deepest forms of trust. Why is that?”

“I’ve no idea. Maybe you can see something that’s worth saving? Can you?”

“I wish it wasn’t so dark,” she said. His voice had such a forlorn edge to it, as if he was grasping vainly at the slenderest of straws. “Tell me your secret, Spike. What is it really?”

“You’re not ready to know,” he said almost sadly. “Think of the most bizarre thing you could ever hear and then double it. You’d never understand.”

“What, are you a ghost?” Buffy ran a finger along his arm. “You feel real enough.”

“Yes, I’m a ghost love, just a shadow of who I was. And you haven’t told me your secret yet? Are you going to do that?” He laughed. “I could be harbouring a murderer under my roof. What are you running from, really?”

“Would you mind if I was, a murderer?” Buffy asked him.

“No, don’t care what you’ve done, but at least you could tell me. Bloody annoying that you won’t.”

Buffy had to laugh then. He sounded so much like a sulky little boy that she could just imagine the expression on his face at that moment.

“I owe you that, I suppose.” He was softening as they spoke and she continued stroking his hair because he seemed to be enjoying it, and it calmed him. “But when you hear this you are going to think me terribly wanton and wicked.”

“I’m going to ruin you anyway, love. Tell me.”

“First tell me there wasn’t really a man asking after me in the tavern.”

“There wasn’t, now tell me.”

Buffy took a breath and suddenly the story didn’t sound like it was hers any more. The outside world had receded, in just a few hours, to such an extent that she didn’t feel anything like the Buffy Summers that had left home in such a panic less than a week ago.

“He was my brother.” Now she was glad of the dark and the speech she’d made about going to hell came back to her. “The man who caused me to run away.”

Spike shifted so that he was facing her. “Your brother?”

“Yes,” she replied in a shame-laden voice. It was a long time before she could continue with the tale and when she did it was in a voice that was barely there. “He finished his studies at Cambridge last month and came home. From the moment he arrived he seemed to think of nothing else, but…” Her voice trailed away because she couldn’t say it. Spike had no problem with it though.

“Bastard wanted to get up your skirts,” he said. “Don’t feel ashamed, Buffy. Not your fault if the bugger can’t keep it still. Why didn’t you just tell your parents?”

“Tell them what? That their precious son wanted to bed his sister? My brother is a golden child who can do no wrong and my father is a Bishop. How would it have looked to raise such a scandal?”

“So you’re saying they would have blamed you?”

“And they would have been partly right.”

Spike raised himself so that he was propped on one elbow as she lay staring into the darkness, fiddling with a lock of her hair while she composed herself enough to continue with her shameful story. He’d sounded anything but shocked so far, but now, that didn’t surprise her. How could anything shock you when you’d taken a human life? This must sound so trivial to him as to be hardly worth bothering about.

The curtains were carefully drawn but she could see that dawn was approaching in the weak light that filtered around the edges of them. Things always seemed so different at night and she wondered what the morning light really was going to bring.

“When we were young,” she continued, because he might as well know the whole sordid story. He of all people seemed least likely to judge her on it. “We played games. Intimate games. Just…touching and looking. Neither of us knew it was wrong until one of the servants caught us. Told us we were going to hell, no mistake, but that he could save us if we found him money to pay off the devil.”

Spike laughed out loud at this point, then stopped abruptly as if he’d only just realised that it was totally inappropriate. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Carry on.”

His laugh took some of the drama out of her speech, and surprisingly made her view the whole incident with completely different eyes. Nursing it all of her life had only amplified the shame, but now she could see it for what it was.

“You’re right to laugh, Spike, for it’s a pathetic tale, is it not?”

“No,” Spike’s mouth found hers in a lingering kiss. “I shouldn’t have laughed,” he said when he finally pulled away. “Just have a strange sense of humour, that’s all. Continue.”

His kisses always seemed to last longer than the actual physical contact and even though he wasn’t doing it any more, she could still feel his lips on hers. It was most disconcerting.

“I was eleven and he was twelve. Can you imagine how terrified we were? My brother gave that servant his whole allowance for a year, until the servant decided we’d paid for our redemption.”

“And you? What did you give?”

“He took me into the barn and did exactly the same as my brother had been. And I endured it because I really did think the devil was coming for me. See how naïve I was?”

“Seems pretty normal to me,” Spike said. “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine, all children play that at some time. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Did you?" she asked him.

“Well, no,” he said, “but I would have if anyone had asked. Probably,” he added.

“But why wasn’t that the end of it? My brother went away to school soon after that, but every holiday was the same, he just wouldn’t leave me alone. I did nothing to encourage him further, you must believe that, until a few weeks ago he came into my bedroom and tried to force himself on me, so that’s why I ran away.”

Spike didn’t answer. Instead he took a long moment to kiss every part of her face as thoroughly as he possibly could. Only when he was satisfied did he speak.

“Sounds like a big bag of wind to me. How much of a danger is he really?”

“He said he’d kill me before another man had me. And I think he meant it, he’s always had a little madness in him.”

“Well, I guess that cat’s out of the bag then,” Spike said, “Got to go through me to get to you now, love. Is that the only reason you let me make love to you, so he couldn’t have what he wanted?”

“It’s part of the reason, Spike. But only part of the reason. Are you not shocked then?”

“Not in the slightest. But it does seem that you need somewhere to stay, and why become a prostitute if that sort of thing was what you were running from in the first place?”

“Desperation will drive us to do things, I couldn’t get a job as a governess without references and what else could I do? I’d hardly eaten in three days before you found me in the tavern. I just decided I might as well…”

“Become a self-fulfilling prophecy? You’re better than that, love, even if you try to tell yourself you’re not. Will you stay? Have I convinced you enough yet?”

Buffy sighed under his wandering hands wanting nothing more at that moment than to remain there, in that bed and just have him touch her for the rest of her life.

“Let me go,” she said her words making him clutch painfully at her side. “I can’t go far, not with my feet like this, and I promise I’ll come back,” she said. “I just need some time alone, to think, away from this room.” She touched his hand. “Do you trust me to come back?”

Spike let go of her and in the early morning light that was brightening the room more and more his features looked strange and distorted. He quickly hid his face from her. “Don’t talk to anyone,” he said in a strange, lisping voice.

“I will come back, I promise. Do you have any staff that I might meet? Will they know I’m here?”

“Just don’t talk to anyone,” Spike replied as she slid from the bed. “Promise me that, and you can go.”

She pulled on her dress as best she could, but it didn’t look very decent so she picked up Spike’s jacket and put that on too. His face was still hidden in the pillows and she fancied that she saw him trembling.

At what? She thought. Because I’m going to leave? Would he really keep his word and let me go? Will I keep mine and come back?

Her cut feet were desperately painful to walk on, more so than she’d imagined them to be, and she knew she would possibly only manage to leave the room before they became too painful to walk on, but she needed this. To distance herself from this persuasive young man who seemed to be weaving a spell on her and mesmerising her with his skilled hands, his sensual and very talented mouth and his erotic words.

Because she knew that if she stayed a moment longer, she’d never want to leave.

--------------------------------------------------------

Spike finally managed to shake off his demon. He needed to follow her mainly because there was danger in the house, and things that she didn’t need to see. His minions were under pain of death to touch anyone he brought back, but they were vampires and the lure of a young human walking around had proved too much for them in the past. And the coachman had been one of his more successful turnings. Didn’t want to have to stake the man now, especially since he’d been the only one to stay.

‘Go after her,’ his demon urged. ‘Do you really think she’ll come back?’

‘How far do you think she’ll get?’ Spike said picking up his trousers. He dressed quickly, surprised at the agitated state of his demon.

‘Didn’t think you cared either way,’ he said and put his ear to the door. She was still outside, he could hear her heartbeat and smell her.

‘I don’t care,’ his demon snapped back, ‘but her blood, I have to admit, it was like nothing I’ve ever tasted. We would like to sample more of it.’

‘You sure that’s all it is?’ Spike asked it as he listened.

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ the demon replied. ‘Kill her or turn her, that’s the only advice you’ll get from me on this matter.”

‘Or keep her alive and just bleed her?’ Spike opened the door and scanned the corridor, then he slipped out and followed her trail.

‘Perhaps we might indulge ourselves,’ his demon said grudgingly. ‘But the inevitable conclusion must come, you do know that?’

‘Shh,’ Spike told it. ‘Have to concentrate, and need to stay in human face so leave me alone, please.’

‘Make sure she doesn’t go down to the cellar,’ the demon cautioned him before retreating.

The cellar? No, Spike thought. She definitely didn’t need to go down to the cellar.

Apart from her own unique scent, she was leaving behind her a minute trail of blood from her feet and Spike knew that he could track her from that as from anything else. And he could hear the painful gasps coming from her mouth as she hobbled away. Possibly the most determined person he’d ever met, he thought with a smile and he wished that he’d met her when he was still plain William. But would William have ever had the courage to even talk to such a dazzling creature? Let alone court her, and bed her. And even if he had, would Buffy have ever looked at him twice?

Surprisingly he thought that maybe she would. She was no Cecily, that was for sure.

Buffy made her way downstairs and Spike followed silently, watching as she tried each door in turn, including the cellar which thankfully had been locked, and finally let herself into the library. The curtains were drawn here, as they were in the rest of the house and she took a moment to open them before sitting herself down with a grateful sigh. He watched as she inspected the soles of her feet, then swung her legs up on to the couch and leaned back against its arm. Silently moving away until he was out of sight, he slid down the wall, and with his arms about his legs and his chin resting on his knees he waited for her.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Go, or stay? She’d promised to return and she should for that reason alone. Hadn’t she always been a woman of her word? Had that changed now that she was out in the world with all its harsh reality?

Can I afford scruples if I am to survive? She asked herself.

Something was calling her back upstairs, to him, but what exactly? She closed her eyes and tried to pin-point it.

Was it just the way he grabbed hold of me when I asked if I could go? The way he looked at me as if I was his very salvation? The way he touched me and made sweet love to me? His darkness?

She suspected it was a mixture of all of these things. All the elements that made up the unique person that was Spike that, for some reason she couldn’t define, drew her irresistibly to him. And this could be a safe place to hide, she’d seen how remote it was with its large grounds, as she’d looked out of the window.

The house seemed large and comfortably furnished, although she couldn’t understand why there were no servants around at this time of the morning. At home, they would already be scurrying around cleaning out the ashes and preparing breakfast before the household woke up. Here the atmosphere was as it had been upstairs, heavy and still and not to a sound to be heard. The grates were clean with no sign of recent fires and the kitchen had been empty. The curtains of every room were drawn, leaving them all in shade and some of the furniture was still covered in dust sheets, as if whoever lived here had tried to come back, or even tried to leave, but had done neither. The house felt as if it was waiting for something, as if time itself had ceased to exist, because it didn’t have to any more.

She pulled Spike’s jacket about her as the thought made her shiver. A haunted house? If ever there was one, then this was it. She’d read lurid stories about people who’d died and not realised it. Perhaps that had happened to her and she was a ghost too, doomed to spend forever trapped in this house, with him?

The thought caused such a panic in her that she rose and made her way to the door, determined to go back upstairs simply so that she wouldn’t be alone. Once the thought of ghosts and spectres has invaded your mind then you see them everywhere and such was the case as she opened the door and peered out, then looked back over her shoulder because she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was being followed. With her head down and going as fast as her injured feet would let her she half ran for the stairs, but walked instead into something hard and cold that almost knocked her over.

His hand was already over her mouth, stopping the scream that she’d only half uttered, before she realised it was Spike.

“Shh,” he said. “It’s alright, it’s only me.”

It took a moment for her to turn her brain around. First she was fighting him and pushing him away, thinking him to be one of the very spectres she’d been fantasising about, and the next she was grabbing hold of his shirt and half-crying with relief.

“You scared me,” she said burying her face into his chest and breathing steadily to calm herself down. “You scared me.”

“Sorry about that.” He spoke quietly, his voice soothing, then he hooked his arm under her knees and picked her up. “You shouldn’t be walking,” he said sternly.

“It was painful,” she admitted glad to be off her feet at last. “And I was coming back, Spike.”

“I know,” he said and kicked open the door of the nearest room. It was a sitting room and furnished in the typically cluttered Victorian style, lacking only the aspidistras and exotic plants, which was oddly fitting in this house that seemed dead.

“I missed you,” he said as he set her down on the sofa. Then he fell to his knees in front of her and picked up each of her feet in turn and inspected them.

“You’ve made them bleed,” he said, rubbing his finger lightly across one of the cuts and then licking it clean. “Silly girl.”

“You like the taste of blood?” she observed in an almost conversational manner, because she was rapidly getting to the stage where nothing he did surprised her any more.

“You’ve noticed,” he said in the same tone. “Do you?” He did it again, wiped his finger along another cut then brought it to his lips. Slowly and very deliberately he sucked it into his mouth, while she watched, wide-eyed.

Buffy swallowed hard, as Spike withdrew his finger just as slowly, the look on his face one of pure ecstasy. “I don’t know,” was all she could think of to say. She giggled nervously. “I have an aunt who suffers from hysterical weakness and the doctor told her to go to the abattoir and drink fresh pigs blood. She said it wasn’t very nice.”

“Did she now.”

Spike reached for her hand, pinning her with his gaze so that she couldn’t move. It was odd, this way he had of looking at her that seemed to hold her in place. If she wasn’t prepared for it he could stop her in her tracks, like a fairground magician. He felt along her fingertips until he found the longest nail, then he placed it on the inside of his wrist and pressed down hard.

She wanted to protest. It had to be hurting him, although his expression showed nothing but pleasure as she cut him, and a thin line of blood formed and beaded into a droplet which he scraped up with the tip of his finger. She really did want to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead she found herself moving towards the blooded finger he offered her, her mouth opening and already anticipating the illicit thrill of it.

“Yours is sweet and thick,” he said. “Here, taste mine.” Then he mimicked his earlier action and very slowly pushed his finger into her mouth. “Keep looking at me. Buffy, there’s a good girl.”

Buffy heard his low hypnotic voice and felt the finger that moved so suggestively against her teeth and gums. And she felt her cheeks hollow as she sucked at it. It wasn’t the nicest thing she’d ever tasted, but the way he moved his finger in and out of her mouth reminded her so much of something else that he’d done to her, that she actually felt it. The tingling and aching again, in her private parts, that seemed to have been the focus of so much attention since she’d met Spike.

Could you become addicted to this? she thought, lying back into the soft cushions of the couch and opening her legs as he withdrew his finger and leaned back to unbutton his trousers. It was her hand pulling up her skirts as he slid her towards the edge and knelt up to meet her. Her hands on his head pulling him greedily to her, while his slipped under her bottom and lifted her.

Neither of them spoke because already they’d established their own language for this. The set of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes told her exactly what she was giving him. Something that he’d lost and was desperate to find again. And when he filled her he gave her a part of herself that she hadn’t known existed.

This couldn’t be Buffy, this woman who was lying here, her arms flung over her head, her body moving in time to his hard thrusts, meeting every one of them, matching the rising cadence of his groans with sounds of her own. Sounds she hardly recognised.

“Going to ruin you, Buffy,” he said as he came, “ruin you for any other man.”

Spike slipped out of her, sitting back on his heels, his face on her stomach, his hands gripping her thighs, and Buffy sat up, with difficulty because she seemed to have no energy left, and draped herself over him. Cradling his head in her arms, she listened to his silent worship and wondered how any other man could ever match this.

It was a slippery slope. As he moved towards her light, she was inevitably drawn towards his darkness and somewhere they were destined to meet. Somewhere in the middle where black and white became so many shades of grey. Where the distinction between right and wrong blurred and went so out of focus that it was impossible to make judgements any more.

Hell seemed determined to have her, one way or another. She kissed his hair and he lifted his head, hooked his arm around the back of her head and kissed her hard, on the mouth. Blood from his cut wrist smeared her cheek as he held her and he slid his mouth across and licked it off. Then he kissed her again, with bloodstained lips, and the sharp, metallic tang of him invaded her senses, and his dangerous invitation overwhelmed all her reason.

“Stay with me,” he said. “Say you’ll stay.”

Darkness and light. They met at dusk and again at dawn, merging and consuming, then changing into the other. And she had to ask herself, if she stayed, how much of Buffy would be left at the end of it?

Tbc….

Sorry it’s taken me so long to get this chapter out, I also write as Moxie (coming out of the closet as everyone seems to know now!) and I’m writing very long chapters of Something Worth Fighting For my Spuffy AU in between. The wonderful Nikita is working on a website for my candyknicks stories and The Interview has won an award, so thank you all for reading.

Can I Keep You?

by candyknicks

Chapter 8

There were more practical considerations involved in keeping a human around for longer than a few days. Spike himself liked to eat, so there was occasionally a little food in the house, but Buffy was going to need regular meals and that would involve shopping and then someone having to prepare it. And she would require clothes and quite possibly other things he didn’t even know about. For someone who had had so many women, he knew remarkably little about them.

He watched her as she neatly divided the, now rather stale, loaf of bread in two and placed each half on a plate.

“Do you have any butter?” she asked.

Spike shook his head.

“Preserves?”

“No,” he said, wondering where the coachman was and thinking he ought to send him out to buy or steal some supplies as soon as it got dark.

“What do you have then?” Buffy asked with a laugh. “Your larder is empty, and where are your staff? I haven’t seen anyone this morning, surely you don’t run a house as large as this without servants?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” he said pulling out a chair and sitting himself opposite her at the large wooden table that formed the centrepiece of the kitchen. It struck him that if he’d had a normal life, he’d probably have been married by now. There had to have been some girl who would have been grateful to have had William as a husband, and this would have been a daily occurrence for him. Breakfasting together and talking about how they were going to spend their day. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.

‘Stop that right now,’ his demon said sharply.

Spike sat up. ‘Stop what? I’m just sitting here.’

‘You’re dreaming, my boy. And of things you can’t have,’ the demon added.

“Wouldn’t you, if you were me?” Buffy said. “Oh dear, this bread’s horribly stale, surely you have a housekeeper?”

“What?” Spike focussed on Buffy and tried to push back his demon. It wasn’t easy trying to have two separate conversations at the same time. “What were you saying?”

Buffy tilted her head and looked at him curiously. “Were you even listening? I was just wondering where your housekeeper was.”

“Haven’t had time to engage one yet,” he said frantically trying to think of a plausible answer to her questions. “Only been in the house a week.”

“Ahh, that explains the dustsheets.” Buffy pushed back her plate. “Did you inherit?”

“Sort of,” Spike said. “I inherited a house in town and sold it to buy this one. I can offer you tea,” he said suddenly remembering what was in the larder, “and I think there’s a bag of oats. Can you do anything with that?”

“If you have milk, we can make porridge.”

“Sorry.” Spike shook his head. As a human he’d had little idea of the running of a household and none whatsoever of the workings of a kitchen. He and his mother had only kept a small staff, but the cooking and cleaning had generally happened without his having to be involved in anything other than eating the food as it appeared and living in the house.

Buffy laughed. “It’s a good job I’m here then. I suppose you’ve been eating in taverns and restaurants. So like a single man.”

“I could take you out,” Spike said suddenly inspired with a solution to the meal time problem.

“For breakfast?” She arched an eyebrow. “Just how have you been living, Spike?”

‘It’s daylight,’ his demon reminded him. ‘You’re not proposing to go out in the light, are you?’ Then it sighed. ‘Do try and remember that you are still a vampire, no matter how much you are trying to pretend you aren’t.’

“Damn,” Spike said out loud, and looked towards the kitchen window. It was already too light for him to go out, even though the sun wasn’t yet properly up. And it promised to be the kind of glorious day that would certainly keep him indoors safely in the shade. “Never mind breakfast,” he said and stood up. “Let’s go and make love again. I have so much to teach you.”

He swiftly moved round to her side of the table and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “There’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

Buffy leaned back just fractionally and twisted her head. “What would that be?” she said in a quiet voice.

His hands slid downwards inside his jacket that she was still wearing and settled over the curve of her breasts. He dipped his head and whispered to her.

“In my mouth?” she said in an even quieter voice. “You want me to…?” her gaze strayed to the front of his trousers.

“You enjoy it when I do it to you.”

The way she still blushed at the mention of these things fascinated him, and reminded him of how poor William used to colour up at the slightest hint of anything sexual, which in those days consisted mainly of a woman merely looking in his direction. On one occasion he’d caught a young lady adjusting her garter in the hallway and it had left him so hot and bothered that he’d had to take a cold bath. Definitely some advantages to being a vampire, Spike thought as he worked his hands into the front of her dress. Lack of any inhibitions when it came to women being one. “Come on, Buffy,” he said. “I know you want to do it.”

“I also want to eat,” she said placing her hand over his. “You must be hungry too, Spike, you didn’t eat anything last night.”

“I’d already eaten,” he said stopping his exploration momentarily. “Okay, you have me. There’s no food left in the house, but I’ll send the coachman out for some this evening, will that suit you?”

Buffy rubbed her hand over the back of his and he squeezed her breast gently, starting a slow massage to which she responded by moving against him and sighing softly. Her head fell back against his chest as he leaned over her and the small scab that had formed on her neck was tantalisingly near to his mouth as he kissed his way towards it. He was hungry too because he hadn’t fed properly last night, since Buffy was supposed to have been dinner.

The call of the blood was far too strong for him to resist and she didn’t stop him as he pushed aside her hair and covered the mark with his mouth, dislodging the scab. Not too much, he cautioned himself, taking small sips rather than deep draughts.

This was another novel experience. A willing human was something he’d never had before and it was hard to stop himself once he’d fallen into a rhythm. Her sweetness flooded his senses and it was only when his face started to change that he realised what he was doing.

Bloody hell, he thought as he wiped his mouth with his hand. Panic and fear made the victim’s blood rich and spicy, but her blood just seemed to flow into his mouth and already he could feel it warming him.

“You’re a strange one,” she said eyeing him sleepily as she leaned back against him. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Told you before, I like the taste of your blood.” Spike pulled her out of the chair and swung her into his arms. “Does it bother you?”

“I don’t know,” was all she said before settling herself against him. “It should, I suppose, but for some reason it doesn’t.”

Spike didn’t waste any more time. The need to distract had turned into the plain need to have her now and he quickly made his way upstairs, taking her this time to his own bedroom since the other one still had glass all over the floor. She laughed, but not unkindly, as he fumbled over his trouser buttons and observed that it was certainly less than an hour since they’d done this, and surely he couldn’t want her again already?

“I’ll always want you,” he said. “All the time and forever. Do you want me? Want this?”

“God help me, but I do. Spike,” she said and held out her arms in invitation. “Teach me to do that thing you told me about downstairs. I want to learn everything there is to learn.”

“That’s my girl,” he said pulling off the rest of his clothes and crawling up beside her on the bed. “You’re mine. Buffy. Make no mistake about that. Not going to let any one near you.”

The way she stiffened momentarily when he said that made him forget all about the sex for a moment. “He won’t find you,” Spike said. “There’s nothing to connect you with this house, or with me. No one saw us leave. You’re perfectly safe here.”

There was that strange feeling again. He’d run upstairs with her, so great had been his need to be inside her, but now all he wanted to do was hold her and feel her against him. It was enough that she was there. The sex was nice, but so was this. Companionship. Having someone else to talk to other than his demon. Feeling part of the world again, even if it was only pretend.

All William had wanted was to be loved. And he still did.

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Buffy looked down at the man spread beneath her. She certainly did enjoy it when he kissed her private places, and had no doubt that he would too. When she’d plucked up enough courage, that was.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” she asked him.

“Just be creative,” he replied. “You could start with a kiss.”

Buffy leaned towards his mouth. Spike raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards his lap.

“Oh, sorry,” she said instantly feeling her cheeks go red. “You wanted me to kiss…”

“Down there?” Spike put his hands behind his head, giving her complete control. “It would be nice.”

Buffy stared at it for a while longer, then she pulled her hair back, held it in one hand, and lowered her head. She managed a very small kiss before jerking away, mainly because Spike had moved his hips sharply as she’d touched him with her lips and it had made her jump.

“Do it again,” he said “and I’ll try not to move, although it’s bloody difficult.”

Buffy wondered how she was going to take all of that in her mouth. Would he expect her to? She had no idea how to proceed. Kisses, that’s what he’d asked for, so she bent her head and planted a row of very light kisses from the base to the end and when she got there she licked it very carefully with the tip of her tongue. It didn’t taste as bad as she’d thought it would so she tried again, this time trailing her tongue along the length of it and then sitting back to inspect her work.

“How was that?” she asked him.

He had the most devastating smile she’d ever seen on a man, and he raised his head and gave it to her then. It made her glow with pride at the obvious enjoyment on his face and the fact that it was her making him feel all that.

“Don’t stop,” was all he said before dropping his head back into to the pillows.

Buffy took a deep breath and rested one hand on his stomach, which he immediately covered with his own, and the other she placed on his thigh. “Should I take it all in?”

“Just what you can love.”

“Alright, but try not to move,” she said, watching him anxiously.

“I’ll be as still as the grave.”

Buffy bent her head, then sat up once more. “It’s just that I’ve always had this terrible fear of choking. Nurse could never get me to take any medicine, she always had to hold my nose to get me to swallow it.”

“No problem love, just take your time.”

Buffy nodded and very carefully wrapped her lips around the end of his hard shaft. For something so hard it felt surprisingly fragile and she knew she ought to be careful, but after taking no more than an inch inside she could already feel her throat closing up. The spasm caused her to close her mouth sharply and Spike to jack-knife abruptly into a sitting position.

“Ouch,” he cried. “No teeth, Buffy. Teeth are not good when you’re doing this.”

“Oh, Spike, I’m sorry,” she said sitting back on her heels and covering her mouth with her hand. “I can’t do it. Did I hurt you?”

His surprised face relaxed into a wry smile. “Just a little,” he said. “And I didn’t mean to shout at you. Just wasn’t expecting you to do that. Not the best place to be bitten.”

Buffy covered her face, mortified. “You’re not too cross with me, are you?”

Spike sat right up and slid his arm around her waist. “You can’t be good at everything, love. And you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. How’s that?”

“I could try again,” she offered noticing with relief that he didn’t look angry with her at all, nor did he look in the least disappointed. “I nearly choked on a piece of meat when I was a child and everyone swears that I went quite blue in the face before they managed to dislodge it.”

That made Spike laugh. Buffy narrowed her eyes as he calmed himself then she realised what was so amusing about her story. “Oh, the meat…” she looked down at his still hard cock and giggled. “I wasn’t making a joke, really.”

Spike giggled too, a sound she’d never heard him make, then he rested his forehead against hers. “I like you, Buffy. I like you a lot,” he said. Then he raised his head and just gazed at her, a hint of a smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. It faded away as he continued to stare to be replaced by an intense focus the like of which she’d never had directed at her before. And this time he wasn’t holding her in thrall as he’d done earlier.

There was an honesty in his expression that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside of him, almost as if he’d decided to show her something that he normally kept carefully hidden. He didn’t have to use words to show her how vulnerable he really was and how much he really did need her, she could see it. And she didn’t have to say anything either. All she had to do was hold out her arms and all he had to do was move into them and lay his head onto her chest.

“I will try again,” she told him smoothing back his hair as he listened to her heart beating. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it, but would you like to make love to me instead? I seem to want you as much as you want me. Don’t ask me why and don’t ask me how it happened. If I stop to think about it I’ll probably run away and never come back.”

“No, don’t go.” He held her tighter and pressed his face harder against her, and the words came out muffled, but she heard them clearly enough.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spike,” she said continuing to push his thick, curly hair away from his forehead. Then she let him go and swept her own hair away from her neck exposing the still-bleeding wound. “Here,” she said. “Would you like to do this again?”

Spike raised his head and frowned. “Why would you want to?” he asked looking genuinely perplexed. “Naïve as you are, you must realise it’s not normal behaviour between a man and a woman.”

“I have no idea what so-called normal behaviour is, Spike. I think we’re making our own rules, am I right?”

Spike nodded.

“Then do it. I think it would make you happy?”

“Lord yes.”

Buffy arched back her neck as his lips hovered over her skin. It stung just a little when he sucked, but she didn’t really notice any pain because his hands were moving over her, touching every part of her and then pushing her down into the silky quilt that covered his bed.

Afterwards, she couldn’t remember the point at which he’d joined with her because all that mattered was that he was there. The pleasure was just a bonus. Buffy lay beside him as he fell into a deep sleep and wondered why, even though she was effectively trapped in this house, she felt more free than she’d ever done. And more grown up. Of course, she was a woman now, but it was more than the physical thing that had happened to her that made her feel this way. Master of her own destiny, it’s what she’d always wanted to be and for the first time in her life she was actually feeling it.

Spike would be a formidable enemy, but with him fighting in her corner she felt as if nothing in the world could touch her. And certainly not her brother. It did cross her mind that her brother would probably not fare too well if Spike and he ever did come to blows, but she pushed the thought away. Far more pressing was the matter of food since her stomach was protesting its hunger quite vigorously now and she was starting to feel a little dizzy.

The thought struck her that there must be some produce that she could pick in the kitchen garden. There had to be one and it was early June so there should be strawberries at least because they would grow wild even if the garden had been neglected. With this thought in mind she rose from the bed taking care not to wake Spike, and dressed herself. His jacket was far too big for her, but it covered her ripped bodice adequately enough and once she was dressed she made her way downstairs.

Her feet were still hurting her and she was already at the kitchen door by the time she realised that her shoes were upstairs lying on the broken glass where she’d dropped them. She stood on the step and looked around. A stone path wound its way to the side of the house to a red-brick wall with a small gate in it and the house itself was flanked by a stone terrace which led down to lawns and flower beds. Everything looked to be at the early stages of neglect with the grass at almost knee-height and the flower beds a riot of blooms that no-one had bothered to tame. It was as if nature was slowly creeping back and reclaiming the place, quietly smothering any traces that people had ever lived here. Or that they lived here still.

The perfect placed to hide, she thought as she stepped gingerly out. Possibly not the wisest thing to do with her feet cut to ribbons, but it didn’t look far and it wasn’t exactly the most foolish thing she’d done in the last few days.

It was the strangest feeling walking with the house behind her. It was a flat, fronted regency-style building, painted a dull, faded grey, and as it had felt dead on the inside, it looked it from the outside too. All the curtains were drawn except for those she’d opened in the library and she kept getting the strangest feeling that it was watching her.

Buffy hurried through her task and found herself a few strawberries, although she realised with dismay that she’d forgotten to bring anything to transport them in so she filled her skirt with them as she’d often done as a child and carried them back to the house that way. By the time she was back in the kitchen her feet were telling her in no uncertain terms how foolish she’d been to out with no shoes. She quickly washed the fruit then sat down at the kitchen table to inspect the damage.

“Where did you go?”

Buffy jumped and turned suddenly to find Spike standing clad only in his trousers in the doorway that led to the kitchen from the hall.

“Oh, you startled me,” she said pushing her feet out of sight under the table. “I found some strawberries, would you like some?”

“And where exactly did you find them?” He sounded angry, as if he was barely controlling it.

“The kitchen garden. It’s terribly neglected, but it could still be saved. You really should get a gardener to sort it out.”

Spike crossed the kitchen so quickly that she hardly saw him move. “I woke up and you weren’t there,” he said standing in front of her chair.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” she said shrinking away from him because he still looked angry enough to remind her of what he was. A killer who she’d been stupid enough to think she’d tamed. Foolish girl, she berated herself. Thinking to bring a dangerous animal to heel with a pat on the head and a few kind words.

“Don’t flinch from me, Buffy.” He said it in a quiet, even tone. “Please don’t do that.”

“Alright.” She swallowed and eyed him warily, curling her feet inwards because he was staring at them intently.

“You went outside without any shoes? That was stupid.”

“Spike, I know it was.” Buffy stood up then sat down again abruptly. “My feet are punishing me enough for it already, please don’t you be angry with me too.”

By the time she got to the end of her speech her voice was breaking. Some of it was pain, but most of it was the shock of realising that her new found trust in Spike might be misplaced after all. She bit her lip to hold back the tears, but Spike noticed.

“Heck, now I’ve made you cry.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair and then crouched down in front of her. “Buffy,” he said, then he shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. Taking a deep breath, he started again. “I didn’t know where you were and it scared me. I thought you’d left me.”

“No.” Buffy sniffed, but a few tears spilled anyway. “I just went to pick some strawberries. I was hungry.”

“You’re making me worry about you, and I’m not used to worrying about people. Say you forgive me for being angry with you.”

“I forgive you.”

“No, you must mean it. This isn’t going to work if we can’t trust each other.”

There was a long silence during which Spike kept his gaze firmly on her face and Buffy knew that the time had come to make a decision. One that would bring her the peace of mind to get on with her life. Or one that would send her back into the world to whatever fate it had in store for her.

It wasn’t a hard decision in the end . Her eyes were wide open and she knew what Spike was. She also knew that they needed each other desperately.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. “You were angry because you were worried and I understand that. So, you must understand that it might frighten me when you’re like that. I’ve seen you kill, I know how strong you are and what you’re capable of, but,” Buffy raised her hand to stop him because it looked as if he was going to interrupt her and she hadn’t finished. “No, let me finish,” she said. “Then you can speak. I also know how gentle you can be and that you’d never let anyone hurt me, am I right?”

“Won’t let anyone near you, pet. Tell me you trust me never to hurt you.”

How could she not say yes when he looked at her like that? Never before had she thought that she had anything of value to give to anyone and just as Spike talked of unfamiliar feelings, this was one for her. For the second time today, here he was, on his knees in front of her asking her for something and all she had to do was say the words. Words that would make him the happiest man on earth, or words that would make him indescribably sad. It was her choice.

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‘We need to talk.’

‘No we don’t.’

‘Yes we do.’

‘Not listening.’

‘Then I’m going to appear, right in front of her.’

“Spike, would you mind if I opened the curtains, it’s awfully dark in here and I can hardly see to read this book.”

Buffy ended the sentence with a smile and the place where Spike’s heart used to be tightened. He also felt a familiar tingling in his fangs as his demon tried to carry out its threat.

Spike moved himself away from the window. “Go ahead. I, er, just need to fetch something. Won’t be a minute.”

“Open them for me would you please?”

“Oh, alright.” Spike stepped back towards the window while Buffy went back to reading her book. She couldn’t see him from where she was and with a little manoeuvring he managed to pull the drapes apart and get away with only a slight burn to the back of his hand.

“Thank you.” She said it without looking up and Spike quickly left the room.

‘How much longer do you think you’re going to be able to keep this up?’ the demon said uncurling from the defensive position it had taken when Spike had opened the curtains. ‘We don’t like sunlight.’

Spike sucked at the back of his hand and inspected the burn. ‘I’ll tell her I can’t go out in the sun. There has to be a disease that stops people going out into the sun.’

‘And a disease that means people don’t have to eat, or breathe, or have a heartbeat?’

‘That’s going to be harder to explain, I’ll give you that.’

‘Try impossible to explain. William, I can understand you wanting companionship. Just turn her and have done with it.’

Spike pushed the door open so that he could see Buffy sitting with her feet propped up on the sofa still engrossed in her book. ‘I like her as she is.’

‘Then you’re going to lose her.’

‘What do you mean?’ Spike frowned. ‘She said she was staying, said she trusted me. Hell, it’s just one human. We’ll still feed as normal. I’m may be denying that I’m a vampire, but I haven’t forgotten that I am.’

‘Well you had me fooled there, boy. We can’t be a proper vampire unless you co- operate, you know that. And you were doing so well. William the Bloody, I was so proud. And now?’ The demon sniffed disdainfully. ‘Frankly this is humiliating.’

‘I don’t bloody care what you feel,’ Spike said holding on to the demon who was trying to retreat now that it had him properly agitated. ‘Why am I going to lose her?’

‘You haven’t noticed, have you?’

‘Noticed what?’ Spike kept a firm eye on Buffy. She looked happy enough as she leafed through the pages. A faint smile clung to her lips and every now and then she picked up the cup of tea that he’d made her and sipped from it. Maybe she did look a little pale, he had no idea how pale or not young ladies were supposed to be, but her cheeks were rosy red, so that had to be a good sign. He looked more closely letting his demon come forward enough to enhance his senses.

‘Are her cheeks supposed to be that red?’

‘I don’t think so, William.’

‘Bloody hell, she’s ill. I can smell it now, the blood, smells all wrong. Blood poisoning?’

‘I’m afraid so, my dear boy. And you know how fast it can take someone. You’ll have to turn her now, or lose her. It’s your choice.’

‘But I like her as she is.’

‘Dying?’ The demon’s voice was silkily persuasive. ‘I vote for turning her, take a chance. One of them has to turn out right. What do you say?’

Spike had nothing whatsoever to say, because he was completely paralysed by this turn of events. The irony of it almost made him laugh, it was so poetic. Of course things were going so well. They had to, so that the blow, when it came, was all the more devastating. Fate had a wonderful way of dangling tantalising prizes in front of people’s eyes, of showing them wonderful things. It let you reach out and touch them, it lulled you into a wonderful place where you started to believe things and then, it decided how many sins you had to pay for and apportioned out the prizes accordingly.

The demon thought it hysterically funny, but Spike didn’t have the energy to argue with it just then, because all he could see was Buffy. The demon was right, blood poisoning could take someone in the blink of an eye. This time tomorrow she could be dead.

‘Or a vampire,’ the demon chipped in helpfully.

“Or a vampire,” Spike repeated softly. The one thing he didn’t want to do to her. This was hell reaching out for him. His just reward for all the evil he’d done. How could he complain? And what right did he have to pray to a God he’d abandoned long ago? There’d be no solace for him there.

‘There must be medicine, I’ll find a doctor.’

‘Do you know of any cure?’

‘No, I don’t.’ He watched as Buffy lifted her head from the book and looked towards the door.

“Spike?” She craned her neck. “Come and see this, I think it will interest you.”

Spike pushed the door open and walked in, taking care to stay in the shade. Buffy beckoned him over with a bright smile, too bright, he could see that now. And her cheeks were unnaturally red, stained by two bright spots that sat on a milk-white background.

Gut wrenching fear. He hadn’t expected her to make him feel this. Hadn’t felt it this bad in a very long time.

“Look,” she said. “It’s a very bizarre book about circus freaks. There’s a picture of a man here who looks just like a wolf. And a woman with a beard. There are so many strange things in this world that we don’t now about, are there not?”

He sat down carefully beside her. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” she said. “Will you be able to get some food soon? I fear my head is starting to spin.”

“I’ll have to wait until it gets dark. Sunlight doesn’t agree with me. How are your feet?”

“Is this part of that disease you were telling me about? You poor thing. Don’t worry, I can wait. Is that why you keep all the curtains closed?”

“Yes. Your feet, are they hurting?”

“Yes, they are.” Buffy turned the page without looking up. “But I am being brave, am I not?”

“You are love, can I see?”

Buffy lifted a foot and waved it in his face. She was still reading the book so he took a chance and let his demon come forward to see how bad it was. It didn’t look any different to before, but his vampire senses told him that everything was different and that the next twenty four hours were going to be crucial.

“Ouch.” Buffy jumped as he pressed his finger to one of the cuts.

Spike put down her foot. “Sorry about that, is it very painful?”

“Yes it is,” she said. “Oh look a man who claims he can breathe underwater like a fish. Isn’t it extraordinary.”

“Yes,” Spike said, absently because he wasn’t really listening. The blood that he’d just licked off his finger did taste different. Occasionally he’d eaten a human who was diseased and he’d always been able to tell. Buffy was already ill, although she didn’t know it and probably didn’t even feel it yet.

He folded his hands in his lap to stop them shaking and let her chatter flow over him. It was his fault. If he hadn’t smashed the decanter she wouldn’t have cut herself.

‘You brought her here to kill her,’ his demon reminded him.

‘And that’s just what I’m doing,’ Spike replied. ‘Is there no escape from this? Am I doomed to be a self-fulfilling prophecy no matter what?’

‘We find it deliciously ironic,’ the demon said.

‘I suppose you would,’ Spike said and then he added in a determined tone. ‘She’s not going to die.’

‘One way or another, she is,’ the demon insisted. ‘Face it, my boy, how many hours until you can safely go out? At least four?’

Spike looked over to the window.

‘By then it will be too late, even if you could find a cure, which you already know you won’t. Turn her now and at least spare her the pain of it. Or perhaps not.’ The demon shook its head in disgust. ‘Now you have me doing it. Turn her for God’s sake or watch her die in agony, both will be just as amusing.’

‘She’s not going to die,’ Spike told it again in the same determined tone. ‘There must be something someone can do for her.’

“Oh my goodness.” Buffy let out a peal of laughter. “There’s a man here with two, you know, two, of those…” she giggled. “Do you think these things are real, Spike? Have you ever seen anything like this?”

Spike nodded, wondering where the coachman was. He usually appeared as darkness fell, ready to take Spike out hunting and Spike prayed that he wouldn’t be late tonight.

“I’m going out as soon as it gets dark,” he said. “Will you be alright here all alone?”

“Can’t I come with you?” she said, putting down the book. “I could stay in the carriage, but I don’t think I’d like to be here alone.” She moved closer to him. “It’s a very spooky house, haven’t you noticed?”

Spike slipped an arm around her shoulders and let the fingers of his other hand trace the line of her collarbone. It was only a very slight hitch, but she was warmer than before. She sighed and snuggled against him.

“Would you like me to have another go at that thing I tried this morning? What’s it called, Spike?”

“Oral pleasuring is the most polite term I can thing of,” he said. “And no, I’m happy to sit here a while, like this. Does that suit you?”

“If you make me any more comfortable I shall fall asleep,” she said and then stifled a yawn. “You see? You kept me very busy last night. We shall have many wicked nights like that, shall we not?”

“Yes, Buffy, count on it.”

She settled her head in his lap and within minutes she was asleep as she’d predicted. Spike put his hand on her hair and felt as helpless as he’d ever felt. The long summer hours of daylight were going to keep him indoors for a good while yet and all he could do was wait for the sun to go down. Had it been more overcast he might have risked covering up and taking the carriage into town himself, but as luck would have it, it was a glorious summer’s day with not a cloud in the sky and he would be little use to her as a pile of ashes.

While he sat with her he let his demon emerge, but that only made it worse because it meant that he could feel everything that was happening to her. Each breath slightly faster than the last, the rising fever, the smell of her tainted blood and sweat stained skin. Minute changes, each one taking her a little further away from him.

‘You have a decision to make,’ his demon said. ‘And don’t delay, William. You can’t turn her if she’s dead.’

Spike laid his head onto the back of the sofa and tipped his face to the ceiling. Why was there always pain associated with love? Human or vampire, it didn’t seem to make any difference, the outcome was always the same and he was invariably left alone and with a broken heart. Finding out that a dead heart could break as well as a living one had been a shock, but living or dead, it had never felt as bad as this.

‘Perhaps she’ll survive it,’ his demon said. ‘People sometimes do.’

Spike covered his eyes with the back of his hand and felt it grow damp with his tears.
‘There must be something someone can do.’

‘Turn her,’ the demon said.

‘If I do that she won’t be Buffy anymore. What if she ends up like mother?’

Buffy shifted and sighed and Spike looked down at her. The devil’s claw-marks, that’s what they were called. The red streaks under the skin, a sure sign that you didn’t have long to live. They hadn’t appeared yet, but they would.

‘What are you waiting for?’ his demon asked.

‘She wouldn’t want to be a vampire,’ Spike replied and he knew that much was true.

‘She may not have a choice,’ the demon replied.

Chapter 9

Buffy knew exactly what was happening to her. Even if she hadn’t woken up feeling dreadful and with her feet in terrible pain, the look on Spike’s face would have told her all she needed to know.

It wasn’t hard to guess, even though he tried to deny that there was anything wrong with her.

“My blood, it’s poisoned, isn’t it?” She was lying on his bed, Spike stretched out beside her. His hand felt icy – cold in contrast to the heat in hers. As she spoke his death-grip on it relaxed and he sat up.

“Maybe you’ve just picked up a chill, or something?” He didn’t sound very convinced and she heard the tremor in his voice as he spoke. There was a bowl on the side table and he reached over and dipped a cloth in the water.

Buffy watched him wring it out and then sighed gratefully as he pushed back her hair and patted her face and neck with it. “I think I know what’s wrong, Spike,” she told him when he’d finished. “I know the symptoms.”

Spike pressed his lips together and nodded, hitching himself up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard and pulling her against his chest. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” she answered him swallowing down a wave of nausea. “I’ll either live, or die. Isn’t that how it usually works?”

“Don’t say that love. No-one’s going to die.”

“I might not have a choice, Spike. I had an uncle die of blood poisoning. Big strapping man. He stepped on a nail and the next day, he was dead.”

“And I had a cousin who was at death’s door for three days with a poisoned wound. Smallest, frailest woman you could ever hope to meet, and she survived it. So there’ll be no more talk of dying, alright?”

“Alright.” Buffy managed a very small laugh. If determination alone could save her then she would survive. It was something they both had in abundance. And this was a time when she knew she had to be strong, even though she was the one in pain because Spike both looked, and sounded quite terrified. “Besides, who’s going to save you if anything happens to me?” she told him and he pulled her even closer to him. It wasn’t very comfortable, but she didn’t complain.

“Hell, Buffy, you’re the only one,” Spike said. “And I’m not letting you go. Tell me what to do, I feel so bloody helpless.”

Buffy raised her head and looked at her feet. They were swollen, but the tell-tale streaks weren’t yet visible, and that was a good sign. “I don’t know of any medicine, Spike, maybe you could make a poultice or a compress to draw out the poison?” she said dropping her head back to his chest. His skin felt wonderfully cool against her burning cheek. “Open you shirt,” she asked him. “I want to be close to you, and you can cool me down at the same time.”

He complied and she settled herself back down again. She had no idea why she felt so calm, when death was almost certainly staring her in the face. Perhaps it was because she’d already reconciled herself to it? Last night, when Spike had bitten her in the carriage she’d been fully prepared for him to kill her, and maybe she was simply destined to die in this house in one way or another. A thought struck her.

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Spike,” she said. “I was the stupid one for going outside with cut feet.”

“And I started it by smashing the decanter and then frightened you into trying to run away. Everything I touch dies.” He spoke in a flat voice that lacked any emotion. Almost as if he didn’t have the energy left to even be scared.

“Apportioning blame isn’t going to help me, is it?” She told him. “Why can I never hear your heartbeat, Spike? It’s almost as if you don’t have one.”

“That’s nothing you need to concern yourself about right now,” Spike replied. “Can I get you anything? I’ve brought some water up.”

“That would be nice,” she said sitting up. The room tilted gently as she did so and she hugged herself because where she’d been hot, now she was suddenly too cold. People did survive this, but rarely. And it was in the lap of the gods whether she would or not. After the frenzy of the last few days this abrupt halt felt stranger than anything that had happened to her. “Spike I meant it when I said I wanted to stay with you, you know that don’t you?” She stopped to sip from the glass as he held it to her lips. “And I’m strong, I’ll fight this, because I really do want to be with you.”

“So will I,” Spike said. “Buffy, I’m going out, I promise I’ll be less than an hour.”

“No, don’t leave me here alone.” Buffy clutched at his arm and held him in place. “I’d be scared to be here alone.”

“I’ve got to go,” Spike said gently removing her hand from his arm. “I’ll find an apothecary. They have to have something that will help, and I need to go now, before this gets any worse.”

The panic was back, she could hear it in his voice, but there was a quiet determination there too. Whatever he did, she knew he did it in her best interest and he wasn’t the type who could just sit and watch her die. She lay back into the pillows as he left her to find his jacket and pull it on. Checking the inside pocket he pulled out a handful of coins, inspected them and muttered, “will this be enough?”

He wasn’t really talking to her so she didn’t answer him and he tucked it back into his pocket and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said and bent his head to kiss her lightly on the lips. “I hate having to leave, you know that, don’t you? But I’m not just going to sit here and do nothing.”

“Don’t be long then.” Buffy raised her hand in a wave and gave him what she hoped was a brave smile, which he acknowledged with a nod. “Spike,” she called him back. “Before you go. Do that thing where you look at me and make me feel sleepy. Perhaps it would help.”

Spike was back across the room and holding her in a crushing hug before she’d finished speaking and she clung to him because he was all she had right then. She also felt the strength and determination in him and knew she had to mirror that for him so that he could go and do what he had to do.

“Do it and then go,” she said. “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.”

He let her go, eventually, although it almost seemed that he wasn’t going to, then he sat for a long time just staring at her hand where he was holding it. “Buffy,” he said at length, in a quiet voice. “What if I told you I could save you, but that there was a great chance that you wouldn’t be yourself any more if I did?”

She rolled her head toward him. “What do you mean?”

Spike shook his head and wiped a hand across his face. “No, forget I said it. Look at me love.”

Buffy kept her eyes on his and tried to lose herself in his gaze, but she couldn’t. The burden of guilt that he was carrying was too evident in them and he looked in as much pain as she was. And the words he’d just said didn’t make any sense. Poor thing, she thought. How can I die and leave him here all alone? He is going to save me, but not with pills and potions.

“I’m not going to die, Spike.” She said it calmly and with conviction and her resolve stiffened as she heard the words. “Not going anywhere because you need me too much.”

“Shh,” Spike told her rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “Just be here when I get back. Now, look at me and relax.”

It didn’t work, as she knew it wouldn’t. They were too evenly matched just then, but she pretended to go into a daze and he seemed happy with that. Even so, he still seemed reluctant to leave and then suddenly he bent his head, whispered something to her, spun on his heels and strode out of the room.

The door closed with a loud click and she was left alone with only the sound of her increasingly laboured breathing to keep her company. He loved her. It’s what he’d said, only how could he know that when he’d just met her? But then again, she smiled as she remembered the intense way he’d said the words, this was Spike. He’d know because that was how he was. Burned in love, that much was evident, yet he bared his soul to her anyway, prepared to take the risk again.

Buffy closed her eyes and tried to conjure up his face. Rising fever muddled the images floating across her mind as they merged and morphed. Spike killing the sailor in the alleyway, His concern for her when he’d taken her virginity. The feel of his mouth on her, especially when he sucked her blood. Such a strange, compelling person, she thought. Like no one she’d ever met before, nor was likely to meet again.

No, she thought, managing a ghost of a smile. She certainly wasn’t going to die, not if Spike had anything to do with it.

---------------------------------------------------------------

William would have stretched himself out beside her and never moved again, even after she’d died. Being there and making her as comfortable as possible was all he could do because he knew that there was nothing else. One day science would find a cure for all the dreadful diseases that people died of on a daily basis. He could imagine that, but it would be too late for Buffy.

He even contemplated praying and knew that it would probably come to that when he reached the point of desperation. Maybe God would listen for Buffy’s sake if not his? Surely she deserved some mercy? She was after all an innocent in all this.

The demon was having none of it.

‘You’re not going to turn her, are you?’

‘No,’ Spike told it. ‘It’s not my decision to make.’

‘Always has been in the past.’

‘Perhaps that’s where I’ve been going wrong?’ Spike said.

‘What do you mean?’ The demon pushed forward and took a long hard look at the girl lying on the bed. ‘So, we’re to watch her die?’

‘Hell, I don’t know what to do.’ Spike turned his attention to her too as she stirred. ‘I just can’t take the risk, not with her. If one day is all we’re going to get together then so be it. I’ll just have to be happy with that.’

The demon started his version of a slow handclap. ‘Oh, very poetic, William. Romantic fool for love to the bitter end. And what if she survives? The turning issue is always going to be there. Will you really be able to watch her grow old in front of you and then die anyway?’

‘I told you,’ Spike said. ‘It will be her choice.’

‘But I don’t understand,’ the demon argued. ‘How does that make it different? Her choice or yours, she’ll still be a vampire and as you’ve learned, unpredictable.’

Spike propped himself up on one elbow and took Buffy’s hot hand in his cool one, lifting it to his face and realising just how much warmer she’d become in the last few hours.

‘The coachman,’ he told his demon. ‘He’s the only one who’s stayed remotely loyal.’

‘What of it?’

‘Don’t you remember?’ Spike said. ‘He came to me and asked to be turned, he was dying and he actually wanted to be made a vampire.’

‘Ahh, and you think that if Buffy asks it will turn out the same? William, she doesn’t even know that you’re a vampire yet, and when you tell her the most likely outcome is that she’ll run screaming from you, or die of fright.’

‘I know,’ Spike said. ‘I’m not going to spring it on her now, but if she survives I am going to tell her what I am.’

‘You’d let me meet her, talk to her?’

‘You mustn’t try to kill her.’

‘You’d share her with me?’

‘Would you like me to? Would it work?’

The demon became very quiet. Spike turned his attention to Buffy who had now woken up fully and seemed to be immediately aware of what was wrong with her. Watching her and the courage she showed, part of it, he knew was for his benefit, made him realise just how arrogant he’d become since he’d been turned into a vampire. He treated life with contempt and he sneered at death because he was immortal, or so he thought. But he was no more immortal than she was. Fewer things could kill him, but ultimately, death had control over them all.

And being with her just served to show up more strongly, the vulnerabilities that he’d learned to live with. There were days when he longed with a passion to be able to walk in the sunlight, even to the point where the few moments of pleasure it would afford him would almost be worth bursting into flames for. And the thought of spending eternity alone? It didn’t bear thinking about.

Leaving her alone was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but the demon was right. What purpose would watching her die serve? Better to do something, he thought as he made his way down a side street and carefully read the shop signs. He growled in frustration and took out his pocket watch. Half an hour had already passed and he still hadn’t found an apothecary. Replacing the pocket watch he decided that he was probably in the wrong part of town anyway and he hoped that the coachman was having greater luck in procuring some food. Bakeries were usually open at night, preparing the next day’s bread and the fruit and produce markets also worked nocturnal hours.
They could have just stolen it, but since the situation was desperate, and Spike had wanted to get back as soon as possible he’d given the coachman all of his spare cash and just had to hope that the man wasn’t going to disappear with it and leave him high and dry.

There was also the small matter of feeding himself.

‘I’m hungry,’ his demon grumbled.

‘I know,’ Spike answered ducking into an alleyway as a group of young men spilled out of a nearby public house. Too risky, he thought. Strong and fast as he was there was always the chance that one day he would be caught or pinned down by an angry crowd. Vampires liked to boast about their close encounters with pitchfork-wielding mobs, but it was always a possibility and now was not the time to get hurt, or caught.

‘I can’t risk it,’ he told the disgruntled demon. ‘We’ll feed later and if push comes to shove we’ll just have to stop off at a farm and eat one of the animals. Don’t want to get caught tonight of all nights.’

‘William…’

‘I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Now where the hell are all the apothecaries.’

‘No, William, stop where you are,’ his demon insisted in an agitated tone. ‘And listen to me for once. Can you feel what I’m feeling?’

Spike stilled suddenly aware of the posture that his demon had taken. And there was only one person that made his demon cower in that way.

“Angelus,” he murmured softly and shrank further into the shadows. The very last person that he needed to meet tonight.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Her brother was standing at the side of the bed.

“There you are,” he scolded her. “We’ve been so worried about you, you naughty thing. Now, up you get and let me take you home.”

“No.” Buffy tried to push him away, but her hand went right through him. She jolted awake with a start.

“Spike?” She called again, but got no answer. Looking around she tried to pinpoint where she was and then she remembered that she was in Spike’s bedroom and he’d said that he was going into town. How long ago was that? She had no idea how long she’d been asleep and when she tried to sit up and help herself to water the room span so violently that she flopped back against the pillows and closed her eyes again.

This was a just reward for her wickedness. Hadn’t her father always preached that there would be no escape from your sins. That they always caught up with you eventually.

Her brother was there again, but this time he was a little boy, eight years old standing before her, his expression serious.

“You must take all you clothes off.”

A seven year old girl stood before him, her pretty face creasing into a frown.

“Why?”

“Because I am the physician and people always take their clothes off when they go to the physician.”

The little girl shrugged. “Alright,” she said and started on the lacings of her smock. “Will you take your clothes off too?”

“No, but you must if I’m to see what’s wrong with you.”

The little girl tugged her smock over her head and turned to the boy. “Unhook my dress then. Shall I be dying from a terrible disease?”

“If you like,” the boy said starting on the hooks that fastened her dress. “You must lie down on the straw and pretend you are in bed.”

“Like this?” The girl lay down and closed her eyes.

“You’re different to me,” the boy said reaching out to touch her.

Buffy covered her face with her hands. How were they to know how wrong it was? They were just two children finding solace in each other because they lived in a household where there was no joy.

”You’re so pretty, Buffy. Shall we be married when we grow up?”

“I should like that. Is it allowed?”

“I don’t know, but you must never leave me.”

“I won’t. I love you.”

“And I love you too.”

Buffy reached out again for the cup. This time her fingers managed to close around it but there was no strength in them and it slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. It didn’t break and she tried to reach it but her senses lurched so badly when she moved that she lay back again and gave up. Spike would be back soon, how long had he been gone? He’d get her a drink when he returned and he’d cool her down because she was burning up. Wasn’t hell supposed to be a giant inferno? Perhaps she was there already because she’d been so very wicked.

Two red spots of shame stung her cheeks. The girl covered her face and the boy hung his head.

“The devil’ll be waiting for ye, ye know that don’t ye?” the man said.

The girl started to weep into her hands and the boy shook his head.

“We didn’t know it was wrong,” he said attempting bravado.

“He’ll come for ye during the night and drag ye off to hell, where ye’ll burn for all eternity. And then he’ll tell your parents what ye did.”

The boy put his arm around the girl. “Don’t worry Buffy, the devil will never have you, I won’t let him.”

“Stupid boy, do ye think ye can stop him?”

“There must be a way,” the boy said. “Do you know of one?”

“I do,” the man said. “How much is your allowance?”

The boy raised his chin. “Sixpence a month.”

The man grinned. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence?”

The boy didn’t let him finish. “I understand perfectly. You’ll get your money,” he said.

The man nodded. “Very wise young master. I’ll make sure the devil gets his due.” Then he turned to the terrified girl. “And you Miss Buffy, what do you have to pay off the devil with?”

She raised her tear-stained face. “I don’t have anything.”

“Oh, I think you do,” the man said and reached for her. “Come with me, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

He was there again, at the side of the bed. At first Buffy thought it was Spike back, they both had the same colour hair, but the man standing in front of her was shorter and more thick-set.

“Your not real,” she muttered “Can’t hurt me.”

“Let me do this, Buffy. You’re so beautiful and I want you so much.”

“I’m not listening,” she said turning away, but he was everywhere she looked. Buffy closed her eyes, but still she saw him.

“This is your fault, Buffy. Can’t you see you’re driving me mad?”

“Not my fault, I didn’t do anything. Leave me alone.”

“You little bitch.”

Buffy pushed in vain at the hand circling her throat. “You’re hurting me,” she said weakly.

“I’ll kill you, Buffy. If you ever let another man touch you, I will kill you.”

She was running, her breath coming in harsh gasps, a small bundle tucked under her arm. Her whole life distilled into what she could easily carry, and that was stolen from her within hours of her reaching town. Stripped bare of everything she’d ever known, all she had left was Buffy. And for the first time in her life she saw who she really was. A survivor. She’d thought it then and she remembered it now. Knew it was the most important thing that she needed to remember if she was going to get through this.

Hauling herself up, she pushed her hair out of her eyes and reached for the jug of water. Her hand connected with the cool glass and time seemed to slow down as it toppled from the table spraying luminous droplets of water into the air. The crash of the jug smashing seemed to come from a long way away, as if it was happening in another room, and Buffy stared wide-eyed at the small beads of water that seemed to hang, suspended in mid-air.

A black shape moved across the room and stood at the end of the bed.

“No,” she said pushing herself back against the headboard. “I’m not going to die.”

The shape extended its hand.

“No.” Buffy screamed out the word giving it every last ounce of energy and defiance that she had left in her body. Death wasn’t going to have her. She closed her eyes and gripped at the sheet with both hands, anchoring herself down and repeating over and over until she was delirious with it.

I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die.

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“We’ve missed you, William.”

“Angelus.” Spike stayed where he was, back against the wall, head bent respectfully as his grand-sire approached him.

“Will you say hello to the ladies?”

Spike flicked a glance to the left and then to the right. On cue the two ladies seemed to appear out of nowhere. He bobbed them each a bow. “Darla, Dru. How was Europe?”

“Very tasty,” Darla said moving to one side of him.

“Mummy’s cross with you, William.” Drusilla moved to flank him on the other side and wagged her finger at him. “Should have come with us.”

“Yes, well,” Spike straightened up and looked at each of them in turn. “Been there, done that, didn’t agree with me.” He bowed again. “It’s been nice meeting you all again, now if you’ll excuse me I have business to attend to.”

“Our William’s got himself a sweet little girl.” Drusilla moved closer and sniffed his neck. “Smells of sulphur and silver and mouldy bread.”

Spike moved away from her. “Still bats in the belfry, I see,” he said narrowing his eyes. “Angelus.” He nodded to the older man who was watching him intently, a lazy smile on his face, and took two more steps away, carefully gauging how far he’d have to get before he could safely make a break for it.

Spike was fast, but Angelus had been a vampire much longer than he had and even with his demon at full force he was no match for his grand-sire.

“Family reunion, William m’ lad,” he said twisting Spike’s arm behind his back and throwing him at the wall. He threaded his hand into the hair at the back of Spike’s neck and mashed his face against the brick “Or have you forgotten who your family is?”

‘Let him have it,’ Spike’s demon urged him, its panic clearly evident now. ‘Don’t make him angry.’

The path of least resistance? For Buffy’s sake, Spike thought, reaching for his trouser buttons. The act itself didn’t bother him, Angelus had done this to him many times and although he was hardly a sensitive lover Spike still managed to find some pleasure in it. He really wished Angelus didn’t make such a special point each time of disfiguring his face though, but then that was Angelus for you. Always knew where to hit the hardest.

What bothered Spike more was the act of domination that it was clearly meant to symbolise. Something he’d been desperate to get away from these last few years. The reason why he’d left his new –found family in the first place.

“I’ve never liked you, Angelus,” he said in a conversational tone. Ignoring the pain in his cheek he loosened his trousers and braced both hands on the wall in a well-practiced drill “There, get it done.”

The larger man moved behind him and Spike heard the bones shift as his face changed. He tried to bring his own demon out, but the demon was having none of it, retreating as far back as it could go and stubbornly refusing to budge.

“That’s right,” Angelus said, his mouth hovering just above Spike’s neck. “Stay just as you are. Much more fun this way.” Then he sniffed. “So, who is she, this sweet little girl?”

“Last night’s dinner,” Spike said. “Bloody get on with it.”

Angelus knew just how to make it hurt in all the wrong places. When he bit him he always sank his fangs too deep and sucked too hard for it to be pleasurable. Inflicting pain was part of the art, he’d told Spike. But Spike had never had the patience to become the mirror that his Grand-Sire had hoped he would be. For Spike it was all about the chase, the capture and the kill. Brawling, rough and tumble and good sex to top it all off. Where Spike invariably killed his victims too quickly, Angelus could take days over it, obsessing over every nuance as he slowly tortured the poor souls to death.

Spike revelled in the violence of it all while Angelus invariably lost himself in the subtleties.

“Is she still alive?” he whispered running his thumb over Spike’s bloody cheek. “Or were you your usual impetuous self?”

“You know me,” Spike said gritting his teeth against the stinging in his neck. “Never manage to keep ‘em.”

“Without doubt the worst pupil I’ve ever encountered,” agreed the older vampire and Spike braced himself for another assault. “You see,” he said, “you have to know just how much blood to drink. How to weaken them just enough so that they can’t fight back. But not too much so that it’s not a challenge any more.”

Spike held his tongue. Now was not a time to fight for his pride, if Angelus was true to his form he would make his mark, take him and leave. This ritual humiliation was the price Spike paid for freedom from his family obligations and he understood that. Angelus had long ago given up trying to control him, seeming content to seek him out every now and then and remind him of exactly where he stood in the pecking order.

Dizziness started to overtake him as Angelus pounded into him and drank his blood and afterwards, when the three of them had melted away into the night as silently as they’d appeared, Spike sat slumped against the wall in the dirty alley, a handkerchief pressed to his neck and thanked fortune that he’d got away with it so lightly this time. And that Angelus hadn’t asked any more questions about Buffy

“I hate you,” he mouthed in the direction that Angelus had disappeared. And he did, with a passion. For reminding him what it was like to be a victim and for showing Spike what his own victims felt when he attacked them. It was one thing to see the terror, to hear the cries, to laugh at the pleas for mercy, but quite another to actually experience some of it himself. Damn, but it took the edge off hunting for weeks when Angelus did this to him.

He stood gingerly and pulled his trousers back into place, the need to get back to Buffy increasing with every moment that passed now. As he reached for his buttons a hand covered his and he jumped.

“Dru?” Bugger, he thought, cursing his demon who hadn’t warned him of her approach because it was still in retreat after the encounter with Angelus. Senses all awry, didn’t hear her coming.

Her hand lingered and then slipped inside his open trousers.

Spike looked down. “What are you doing.?”

“Haven’t you missed your mummy?” she said in a silky purr. “She’s missed you.”

“Leave it out, Dru.” Spike firmly removed her hand and carried on with the task of buttoning himself up. “How did you find me?”

Dru clicked her tongue. “Naughty boy, didn’t want to be found.”

“Bloody right, I didn’t.”

“Poor boy.” She moved closer and fingered his blooded face. “let me make it better for you.”

“Thanks, pet.” Spike stood very still as she licked his cheek clean, knowing that this was the quickest way that it was going to heal. Dru was a funny mixture. Siren temptress and child, savage killer and madwoman all mixed up with this softer side. One minute she’d be holding a baby and telling it stories, the next, without so much as a pause in between, she’d sink her teeth into its neck and kill it.

“What did you mean?” he asked when she’d finished. “All that stuff about silver and sulphur?”

She laughed. “Little girl’s ill, am I right Spike?”

“Come on, Dru,” he said raising his own hand to her cheek. “If you came back to help me, then do it. What did you mean?”

Dru rubbed her face against his hand and giggled. “Angelus wants her for himself, but he can’t have her, can he?”

“No,” Spike said. “Do I need to find some sulphur?”

“Can I have her, then?”

“No,” he trailed his finger down the side of her neck and she arched back, baring herself to him.

“Would you like a taste, Spike?”

His demon shook its head, vigorously. Spike gave a small laugh, remembering the one and only time he’d drunk from Dru. “ No thanks, need to keep my wits about me. Come on love, if you’ve seen anything, then tell me. Is the sulphur for a spell or something?”

“Not a spell.”

“Then what?” Spike swallowed down his impatience. This was risky, if anyone could help him, then Dru could, but he knew that the longer he was with her, the more she was going to find out about Buffy. And he didn’t have time to sift through her ramblings for meaning tonight.”

“Concentrate, Dru,” he said stepping away from her because she was looking at him far too closely. “You said, sulphur and silver and mouldy bread?”

Dru leaned her head right back and looked up at the strip of sky visible above the narrow alley. “Will you come to the moon with me, Spike?”

“’Course I will, pet.” He watched her for a moment as she did one of her dances. “Are you listening to me, Dru?”

“You’re a cruel, bad man, Spike,” she said without interrupting her dance. “Left the little girl all alone and scared and lonely. Are you going to eat her, or make her into a vampire?”

“She’s already dead, Dru. If Angelus asks, tell him she’s already dead. Will you do that?”

“Alright.”

Dru carried on with her twirling while Spike backed away before the others came back for her. The thought of Angelus anywhere near Buffy made him want to shudder. She was just the kind of sweet thing to keep him busy for days before she died.

‘We were going to kill her too,’ his demon reminded him. ‘Why do you think we’re so different to him?’

‘Because we would have done it quickly and she would have known pleasure before she died. I’d have made sure of that.’

‘Oh, that’s laudable, William. A merciful killer are we now?’

‘Stop muddying the waters,’ Spike said, irritably. ‘I don’t have time for philosophical discussions now.’ He took out his watch again. ‘Damn, but I said we’d be home within the hour, I need to get back to her. What the hell was Dru on about?’

There was a district in town where the physicians practiced. A smart row of terraces decorated with polished brass plaques engraved with their credentials. Spike cursed himself for not thinking of it before. The apothecaries were more likely to have their shops there, near to the potential source of their incomes.

And when he was back at their arranged meeting place he saw, with considerable relief, that the coachman had been somewhat more successful in his task in procuring food than he had in finding a cure for Buffy.

“Good man,” he told him patting him awkwardly on the arm. “We need to get across town, then you need to get me back home as quick as possible.”

The coachman nodded and turned to climb back up to the driver’s seat.

Spike turned too, then he stopped. “Alex,” he said. “Do you remember who you were?”

The man nodded.

“You were dying, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you wanted to be a vampire?”

“I came into with my eyes open,” Alex replied. “Knew exactly what I was letting myself in for.”

“And that made a difference?”

“Wasn’t angry like the others, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Angry?” Spike waved him to carry on and climbed into the coach. Is that what it was? Anger at being forced to become a demon?

‘You didn’t exactly give them a choice?’ his demon observed.

‘But it wasn’t like that for me,’ Spike said, genuinely puzzled. ‘I don’t remember feeling angry.’

‘You were sired by a madwoman,’ his demon replied. ‘And I had to be lumbered with you.’

‘And I with you,’ Spike said leaning out of the window. ‘I’ve got to get back to her, can’t this thing go any faster.’

‘She’s probably already dead,’ the demon said. ‘Probably died scared and all alone, thinking you didn’t care about her.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Spike spat back at it. ‘I do bloody care. More than I’ve ever cared about anything.’

‘Then you should have turned her,’ the demon said. ‘I wanted you to turn her.’

‘I know,’ Spike said. ‘I know.’

---------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy fought hard to stay conscious, finding it more and more difficult to resist the deep waves of welcoming sleep that washed over her with increasing frequency. Several times she imagined that Spike was back and actually sighed with relief that he was here at last, but the figure who opened the door and walked across the room to her always shimmered and melted away just before he reached the bed.

Her brother flitted in and out, as did her father looking stern as always, and her mother weeping copious crocodile tears.

But the dark-clad figure at the bottom of the bed was her most constant companion. It sat quietly waiting as Buffy struggled to stay, every now and then holding out its hand in invitation.

When it did that Buffy shook her head and closed her eyes so that she couldn’t see it any more.

“I’m not coming with you,” she said gritting her teeth. “Not yet.”

Buffy kept her eyes firmly on the door, never failing in her certainty that her knight in shining armour was going to appear and save her.

The figure raised its hand once more.

Buffy turned away, but this time it was harder. “Where are you, Spike?” she whispered as the black figure hovered in and out of her vision. “Where are you?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Amongst the grimness of the evening’s events Spike actually found something to smile about. The sign in the Apothecary’s window that read,

Welcome, please ring the bell and enter

It was invitation enough to get him in through the door, which was ridiculously easy to force, and once inside he let his demon come forward and scanned the dark interior.

Rows of jars in polished wood cabinets, all labelled with Latin names written in neat copper plate script. A brass scale on the wooden and glass counter. Numerous drawers, again labelled with words he didn’t understand. Latin hadn’t been his forte at school and he had no clue where to start.

Luckily for him, a few moments later, the apothecary himself arrived carrying an oil lamp which he put down on the counter top. He gasped when he noticed the broken door and stepped back straight into Spike.

“I need some Sulphur powder and some silver,” Spike told the terrified man. “Find it for me.”

Spike remained carefully behind him so that he couldn’t see his face and pushed him towards the glass cabinets. “I don’t have all night,” he said covering the man’s mouth with his hand because he could feel a scream bubbling up from him. “I’m not going to hurt you, just need the stuff.”

Remaining calm was difficult because his demon, having completely capitulated in the face of Angelus now needed to re establish its sense of self. Spike tried to push it back, but hunger and the man’s fear made it nearly impossible.

The strong preyed on the weak, that’s how it was. The natural order of things. The demon, who had been terrified, now wanted to terrify in return. William had been the victim and now he became the victimiser.

The man turned suddenly and nearly collapsed with fright when he saw what he was dealing with. Spike growled and hauled the whimpering figure in front of a row of jars. “Will sulphur work for blood poisoning?”

The man didn’t reply and for a moment Spike thought he’d killed him without realising it. He shook him hard. “I need something for blood poisoning. Get on with it.”

“I don’t have anything, the man said. A tonic maybe, but that’s all.”

“Fetch it,” Spike said letting go of him.

The man staggered forward, but instead of going towards the cabinet he made a lunge for the door.

Spike grabbed him by the collar, spun him round and cracked his head into the glass front of the cupboard. The glass splintered and the man groaned.

“Sulphur and silver,” Spike said barely hanging on to his temper. “Which ones?”

The man raised an arm and pointed. “Sulphur powder,” he said weakly. “And the silver is in that jar there, in suspension. What makes you think they’ll work?”

“I have it on good authority,” Spike told him. “What do I do with them?”

“Topical,” the man said. “To the wound. It’s the best advice I can give. Please don’t hurt me any more.”

Spike looked at him and the trickle of blood that oozed from the cut on his forehead. Only yesterday he would have done this without blinking an eye, not giving it a second thought.

‘She wouldn’t want this,’ William whispered to him.

‘We need to feed,’ his demon said. ‘We can’t go much longer.’

‘You’re right,’ Spike said as he cocked back his fist and cracked the man across the jaw. ‘Both of you are.’

The man crumpled boneless to the floor and Spike crouched over him, pulled back his collar and sank his fangs into his neck.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘I can’t believe you left him alive,’ the demon said angrily as Spike pushed open the front door.

‘I told you, we didn’t have time to finish him,’ Spike said swiftly climbing the stairs. ‘I don’t want to argue about this now, I’ve more important things to do.’

Spike raced towards his bedroom, but when he got to the door he stopped, suddenly paralysed with fear as to what he was going to find on the other side.

What if she’d died, all alone and frightened? What if he was carrying the means by which he might have saved her, and it was too late?

He placed a shaking hand on the door and listened.

------------------------------------------------------------

“What have you done to your face?”

He felt real this time, his hand cool and solid in hers. His arms circling her, his tears wet against her face where his pressed against it.

“You’re still here,” Spike said squeezing her so tight that she was having difficulty breathing. He realised it straight away and let her go.

“You’ve hurt yourself,’ she said in a raspy whisper and lifted a hand to touch his face. “Poor thing.”

Spike covered it with his, then raised it to his lips and kissed it. “Never mind me, how are you feeling? Any better?”

Buffy heard the unspoken plea behind his question so she told him what he wanted to hear. “A little,” she said. “Especially now you’re back.”

“You’re not a very good liar, Buffy,” he said with a sad smile. Words he’d said to her last night when she’d told him she was sexually experienced.

“I’m not lying,” she said holding on to his hand for all she was worth because she didn’t want to be left alone again. “What’s in the jars?”

“Something that might help. Can I see?”

It was agony as he probed and prodded at the wounds and when he turned to her there were tears pouring down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said wiping them away with his hand. “Got to get the poison out and then I’m going to rub the sulphur powder on. I know it hurts, but you’re brave, love. Just remember that.”

Endurance was a lesson she’d learned well. If there was one defining factor that had shaped her life, it was that. She’d managed eighteen years of it before she’d cracked under the strain, so surely she could endure this? For Spike’s sake, as much as her own.

Working with a grim determination he finished his task and then ripped two strips of linen from the sheet and wrapped up each of her feet. When she said she was thirsty he fetched her some wine and water, and when it became obvious she wasn’t going to be able to keep it down he held her as she retched into a chamber pot.

We’re like two children walking in the dark, she thought. Holding hands and surviving on pure instinct alone.

“Will it work?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he replied and pulled her into his arms. “But you’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”

Buffy frowned. She still couldn’t hear his heartbeat, but she might have been hallucinating it. She’d seen so many strange things in the past few hours.

The strongest bonds between two people are often made at times of great stress. And when death is staring you in the face you realise with perfect clarity just what is important. Death had whispered to her last night in the carriage and she’d quite prepared to go with it then. Because last night she’d had nothing left to lose.

What a difference a day had made, to both of them. She could feel the change in Spike, even though she still didn’t really know who he was, and she’d learned so much about herself since she’d met him that she almost felt like a completely different person.

“You must never leave me,” he whispered into her hair.

Buffy looked towards the end of the bed and realised with a start that the black-clad figure wasn’t there any more. Whether she’d imagined it ever being there, or not was irrelevant. The whole room felt different and the oppressive hopelessness that she’d started to feel was slowly lifting.

“I’m not going to, Spike.” She laced her fingers in his and squeezed with all the strength she had left. “Just hold on to me,” she said, “because I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

Can I Keep You?

by candyknicks

Chapter 10

After ten years of being a vampire and of revelling in the task of being death’s right hand, Spike now found himself entirely focussed on the saving of a single life. The outcome hung in the balance for three days until there was a slight improvement that gave him hope that she might make it after all. And now, one week later, Buffy seemed well and truly on the mend.

Whether it was the remedies that he’d found and so diligently administered, or their joint determination that she wasn’t going to die, he had no idea, although common sense told him that it was possibly a combination of everything that he’d thrown at the problem. He’d even resorted to a spell which he’d purchased from a strange looking old woman who claimed to be a witch, in return for some trinkets from the house.

And to solve his immediate money problems he’d broken into a bank that he’d used as when he was William and relieved the safe of a large amount of cash, because surviving on the money he stole from his victims wasn’t really an option now that he had Buffy to think about.

That had appeased his demon somewhat, but it was still in a mighty sulk over the fact that he hadn’t killed one of his victims since he’d met Buffy. Not knowingly, anyway. Whether they survived or not he’d left to chance, but at least he’d given them that chance.

‘She’d be proud of me,’ he told his demon, then he frowned because yet again, the porridge he’d been attempting to make had huge lumps in it and he couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong.

‘Of course she would,’ the demon said. ‘You only nearly killed them as you were drinking their blood. Yes, she’d be so proud.’

Spike ignored it. It was good that his most pressing problem at this moment was only one of lumpy porridge. Yes, he knew that Buffy could suddenly go downhill despite the fact that she seemed to be getting better. That happened with alarming frequency. But she was strong and Spike knew that if anyone was going to make it, then she would. Whether that was for his benefit was another matter entirely.

He tipped the contents of the pan into a dish and found a spoon to mash down the worst of the lumps. Then he took a moment to fill the pan with water to stop the porridge drying on, which it did very quickly, he’d found to his cost because housekeeping definitely wasn’t his forte.

Buffy was lying on the sofa in the sitting room and her face lit up when she saw him. Then her gaze went to the dish she was carrying. “Let me guess,” she said. “Porridge?”

“Do I denote a hint of sarcasm there?” Spike asked her as he set down the plate and spoon on the table at her side. “And it’s lumpy again too, what the hell am I doing wrong?” Lifting Buffy’s feet, he sat down on the end of the couch and propped them on his lap.

She picked up the dish and stared into it. “I think you might be over-cooking it,” she said. “But I don’t mind, really, how can I complain, after all you’ve done for me?”

“You never complain,” he said inspecting her feet and noticing with satisfaction that the cuts were healing nicely. A few surreptitious tastes of her blood had told him that it was returning to normal, but he’d been very careful to take no more than a lick while she’d been ill, not wanting to weaken her further. “First woman I’ve met that didn’t.”

“Then you haven’t met many women,” she replied with a laugh. “Have you any idea what women go through in life? And did you not wonder why so many women end up as invalids lying on couches all day? Why, my aunt had given birth to twelve children by the time she was thirty five. She is quite worn out, poor thing.”

Spike settled back, ready to enjoy the discussion. Buffy had a sharp mind and these heated debates that they’d taken to having were almost as much fun as the sex had been.

“So,” he said. “Are you saying that men should have babies?”

“If I had a hand in it, they certainly would,” she said fervently.

“Heaven forbid,” he countered. “I’m quite happy with things the way they are.” As he spoke he let his finger run absently under the hem of her dress, along her calf and he felt the shiver of excitement that fluttered over her skin. “We men get the best of the deal, no doubting that.” His body stirred into action as it picked up the signals she was sending him. Some obvious, others minute changes that only a vampire would sense, and he pushed her skirt up past her knees and caressed her again.

It was over a week since he’d made love to her, and over a week since he’d wanted to. Her illness had dampened his ardour completely, but now, as she sat smiling at him and chewing on her porridge, he felt it coming back. The need and the wanting. The wonder, and the plain, good–old– fashioned lust.

And he couldn’t decide which he liked best. Feisty, independent Buffy who’d been so eager to learn everything he had to teach her, and who’d given back as good as she’d got. Or the Buffy, who for the last week, had depended on him so utterly and completely for her every need that there was very little that she had left to hide from him.

Being with someone probably meant accepting a mixture of both, he decided as his hand pushed higher to trail along the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. There’d be times when you walked side by side as equal partners and times when one was dependant on the other. That was the nature of normal relationships. Poor William had wanted it so badly, and so, he was finding, did Spike.

Her eyes widened as his hand crept higher, his fingers tangling boldly in her wiry curls, slipping between her inner folds to find her already wet and wanting him.

Buffy gazed at him wide-eyed for a moment and then her expression softened. Laying her head back against the arm of the sofa she held out her arms to him in silent invitation.

“I’ve missed this,” Spike said and he leaned down to place a soft kiss on each knee. “Are you feeling better, love?”

“Me too,” she replied, in a low breathy whisper as he kissed his way higher. “And yes, I am feeling much better.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said. “You just lie still and enjoy it.”

“Spike,” she began but then she seemed beyond coherent speech as he found her clitoris and gave it all of his attention. He didn’t push her too hard, now wasn’t the time for earth shattering orgasms that left her weak and breathless. Rather he made her come in gently rippling waves that had her whimpering with delight.

It was enough for now, he thought, reining in his own needs. He may be brash and impetuous, but he was also capable of subtlety and patience if he put his mind to it. And it was a lesson well worth the learning, if her appreciative moans were anything to go by.

His demon shook its head. ‘Vampires don’t do cosy domesticity,’ it said matter- of factly.

‘Shut up,’ Spike said as he crawled up beside her to let her recover.

‘This is nothing but the calm before the storm, you realise that, don’t you?’ it said.

‘I do,’ Spike said grimly trying to hold on to the feeling of well-being that was rapidly evaporating under his demon’s insistence that he face the truth. Buffy wriggled herself comfortable onto his shoulder and he instinctively pulled her higher so that she wasn’t anywhere near where his heart should be beating.

‘They’ll find you, eventually, you do know that? And then there’s that other matter.’

That much was true. Angelus, her brother, the fact that he was a vampire, all things that were probably set to spoil this idyllic interlude. Dru always had an uncanny knack of finding him, no matter how hard he tried to hide. And Angelus did want Buffy, Spike already knew that. Knew that he’d want to assert his rights there too if he got the slightest whiff that she was still alive.

Her brother didn’t sound like the type to give up, either. Spike knew all about obsession, how it drove you on, no matter how seemingly hopeless your objectives.

And then there was the not-inconsiderable matter of him telling her he was a vampire. Several times he’d tried and the words had always frozen in his throat because they just sounded so plain ridiculous. His demon had told him that she’d run away screaming, but what she’d probably do was laugh. At the words, anyway. There’d be time enough for screaming when she saw his demon face.

But for now, none of that mattered. Fate had seen fit to have them meet and to spare her life and at this precise moment in time everything was perfect. No-one knew where they were, and his financial worries were, for now, sorted. Buffy had stopped asking questions about his so-called illness, probably because she’d had more pressing things to occupy her this past week, and so, for now, it wasn’t an issue.

And she wouldn’t be lying here with him, enjoying his attentions and completely at ease if she didn’t feel some affection for him, surely?

Stormy weather ahead? Almost certainly, but that was in the future. And this, her soft, warm body lying against him, was now. He’d fight tooth and nail to stop Angelus or her brother taking her from him, and then, what was left of his heart would probably shatter into a million pieces when she found out what he truly was.

All the more reason to make the most of every moment with her, and use this time to store up some much needed courage for the future.

“May I make love to you?” he asked her, needing her to say yes now more than at any other time since he’d known her. “Do you feel up to it?”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said touching her lips to his cheek. “And this thing that’s happened to me this week, it’s made me realise just how vulnerable we all are, Spike. How tenuous our hold on life is.”

Another kiss, her thumb smoothing over the spot where her mouth had been. She touched him in so many ways and he wanted to touch her just like that. To get so deep inside her that she’d never remember a time when he wasn’t there.

“Smile, love,” he said as cheerfully as he could manage. “Got a lot to be thankful for, and things are good right now. Be happy?” Tilting his head, he looked into her face. It was part request, part command so she smiled dutifully. Still too pale, though. Still looked too much like one of his victims.

Everything I touch dies. He wished he hadn’t said it. They were only words, but this week they’d both witnessed first-hand how powerful words could be. Giving voice to your convictions seemed to endow them with an energy of their own. They’d both repeated over and over that she wasn’t going to die and he was convinced it had to have helped to anchor her and keep her from slipping away.

“Tell me things are good, Buffy. Need to hear you say it.”

“They are, Spike.” She twisted herself so that she was facing him. “You’re right, I do have a lot to be thankful for, despite everything that’s happened. I’m still here with you, and that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Can you be happy, though? Here, with me in this dark, old house? Will it be enough?”

“It’s more than I thought I’d ever have. You care for me, don’t you Spike?”

That made him laugh and he still loved it. Her honesty and the simplicity of her words. Where William would have tied himself up in knots looking for the most pretentious word imaginable to express what he felt, she said exactly what was needed with hardly any at all.

“I love you.” He said it with a smile because he wanted her to cheer up and he kept his tone light because despite his best efforts the conversation kept turning back to serious matters. “But I’m not going to make love to you until you smile for me, so there.” He stuck out his tongue.

“I better had then.”

It was genuine. When she smiled, really smiled it was like his own bit of sunshine, and she was doing it now. Warming him all over, inside and out.

Spike started on the buttons of his trousers, but she sat up and stopped him.

“Let me do it,” she said flattening her hand over his and pressing them both down onto his hard cock. Each light twitch of her fingers made it jump and harden even more. Made him lift his hips and reach blindly for her. Suddenly the need was urgent.

“Make me come, Buffy. I need you to make me come.”

“Inside me,”

“Yes.” He tugged up her skirts while she opened his trousers and mercifully released him. He only had to move a little to encase himself in her slippery, wet folds. Lying side by side because he didn’t want to put any weight on her, her leg draped over his hip, he made love to her with the same care he’d shown her all week.

Loving and gentle because she made him remember that he once was. And more importantly, that he could be again.

His demon sighed and shook its head. ‘You can’t live in denial,’ it whispered.

‘Why not,’ Spike whispered back. ‘Bloody good place if you ask me.’

‘It’s not real,’ the demon insisted.

‘Yes it is.’ Spike pressed his lips to her neck and listened to the sound of her blood. He didn’t drink because she was too weak for that, but it reassured him. Everything sounded right again and just now everything was right. And all they had to do was enjoy it, and each other, for however much time fate deemed fit to give them.

Lovemaking made her glow. A rosy tint of contentment and satisfaction that was infectious and made him feel it too.

“He’ll never find me here, will he?”

“No, you’re perfectly safe here.” Spike dipped his head and closed his mouth over a breast, wetting the material of her dress with slow circles of his tongue. Buffy giggled, then sighed.

“Shall I fall in love with you, Spike? Would you like me to?”

“I’d like that,” he said turning his attention to the other breast as he didn’t want it to feel left out. “Because you know I already love you and none of this is going to work unless you love me back.”

“So like a man,” she said stretching her arms above her head and arching against him. “Using logic to justify the most illogical feeling on God’s earth.”

“You’ve no idea how true those words are,” he said with a low laugh. “We make a bloody odd couple don’t we?”

Buffy tipped her neck to the side as he kissed his way back up to it, pulling her hair away from his mark. “Go on,” she said. “I know you want to.”

Two sips. He gave himself the limit before he even started. When she offered herself like that it was almost too much for him to control.

“And we don’t, Spike. Make an odd couple. We should, I suppose, but we don’t do we?”

“You’re right there, pet. Feels like a perfect fit to me.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” She wriggled herself comfortable against him once more, yawning as her head fell onto his shoulder.

Spike squinted down at her.

“I’ve tired you out, shall I carry you to back to bed?”

“No, I’m fine here. Vampires drink blood, did you know that? I read about them in that book I found in the library.”

“Don’t believe everything you read, love,” he said in as normal a voice as he could manage. Hoping she hadn’t noticed the way he’d jumped at her words.

“I know they’re not real, but with you liking the taste of blood, I just wondered.”

“What, pet?” If he’d had a heartbeat it would be going off the scale just about now.

“Nothing,” she said yawing widely. “Perhaps a lot of these myths and legends are rooted in fact. You like the taste of blood so people might make the logical leap to you being a vampire. I can see how these legends would arise.”

‘Now,’ his demon said. ‘Now would be a very good time.’

Spike laughed long and hard. “That is the daftest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Buffy blushed and batted his arm. “I know,” she said. “You don’t look anything like one, but you can’t blame me for thinking it when you suck on my neck the way you do.” She looked up at him suddenly concerned. “I haven’t offended you, have I? It was only meant in fun.”

Spike laughed again, rather forced and slightly hysterical this time. “Which was exactly how it was taken.” He laughed again, hoping he wasn’t overdoing it. “Bloody good imagination you’ve got.”

Buffy sighed sleepily against him and gave a little giggle. “Besides, vampires live in spooky old castles perched on mountain-tops. And they wear black cloaks and they sleep in coffins all day, That was in the book too.”

‘Now would be a really, really good time,’ the demon reminded him.

“Well, that rules me out,” Spike said “No coffins in sight and you wouldn’t catch me dead in a cloak.”

“You’d look very dashing in a cloak.” She muttered the words quietly as she fell asleep on him.

Spike stroked her hair to encourage her. “No, I wouldn’t believe me,” he said. “Go to sleep Buffy, you’re so tired you’re rambling.”

“Am not.”

“Yes you are,” he insisted firmly.

His demon groaned.

Love makes you reckless and it makes you blind. It makes you believe things you’d lost hope in. It fills the air with music and it tints the world the colour of roses. All Spike could see was her. And all he wanted was what they had now.

His demon shook its head, but William sighed and gazed at the object of his affection lovingly and thought that he’d never been happier than at this moment.

-------------------------------------------------------

By her reckoning, four weeks had now passed since Spike had bought her to the house. Four weeks, which, after the initial trauma, were turning into the happiest weeks of her life.

Spike was still something of an enigma. Often she awoke in the small hours of the morning to find herself alone in his bed. He usually re-appeared just before dawn and invariably made love to her. He could be tender and careful, but at those times, it was always a little wild, the passion having a slightly dangerous edge, as if he was struggling to hold something back. And because she’d decided to put her trust in him, Buffy never questioned it, neither did she ask him where he went.

Only one cloud darkened her horizon, her brother finding her, but that she left to fate, since there was nothing further she could do about it. She’d chosen to stay with Spike and believed that he’d keep her safe, and it was a decision she’d made by herself. Even though she knew that he’d find her if she left him, there was nothing to stop her leaving, if she wanted to.

So, the Pandora’s Box of Spike’s strange habits, she kept firmly closed.

Instead she kept herself busy with domestic issues and with returning in kind, the love and attention that he lavished on her.

And this last week she’d started to become preoccupied with another matter. The inevitable consequence of all this unrestrained lovemaking. She’d never been regular, and what little she knew about it told her that it was too soon to start decorating nurseries, but she was surprised by the depths of her feelings on the matter. Watching Spike as he stood at the edge of the small ornamental lake, throwing stones into the water, she could think of nothing that might make them both happier than conceiving a child.

With the long summer days it was quite late in the evening before Spike liked to venture out and she never did without him because the first time she had he’d been almost hysterical when she’d gone back inside, telling her that if she wanted her brother to find her then she was to go right ahead and parade herself in full view of anyone who might have wandered into the grounds. A reaction totally out of proportion to the threat. The house was isolated and the immediate gardens surrounded by a high brick wall that, at times gave way to a wrought iron fence with spikes on top. Impossible to scale for all but the very determined.

And no matter how quietly she sneaked up on him, he always knew she was coming. Rising from her bench at the top of the grassy bank she made her way down the slope and after three steps Spike turned and smiled at her.

“Come see the fish,” he said. “Would you like me to catch you one? I’m sure there are trout in here.”

Buffy took the hand he offered her and gasped as he jerked her toward him, deftly scooping her around the waist to stop her stumbling. He kissed the top of her head, and then peered into the lake. “Look, there’s one.”

“I can’t see anything,” she said, narrowing her eyes and trying to make out what he was looking at. “You almost seem to be able to see in the dark, Spike. How do you do it?”

“It’s not that difficult,” he replied with a shrug. “Just have good night vision, a lot of people do. Probably because I never go out in the sunlight.”

“Would it hurt you terribly if you did?” she asked him.

“Yes, it would. I’d burn. Look, there it is again, watch this.”

Spike let go of her and crouched down by water’s edge, dropping to his knees and trailing one finger just under the surface. He motioned her back when she tried to join him, placing a finger on his lips to tell her to be quiet.

One minute the fish was in the lake, the next it was wriggling and struggling in his hand. He held it out to her, proudly. “There you go, madam, dinner for tomorrow.”

Buffy dropped to her knees beside him. “That was truly amazing,” she said and then turned away as he took it by the tail and whipped it against the ground to kill it. She’d eat it, but she didn’t want a hand in that part of it. “I’ll leave the hunting to you, Spike, but I’ll cook it for us. I think there’s some dill in the herb garden, I could make a sauce to go with it, although it would probably be a waste of my time, since you hardly eat anything.”

“Well, I don’t have a very big appetite, come on,” he said picking up the fish, “got something to show you. Bought you a present.”

“Have you?” Buffy jumped up. “I love presents, what is it?”

“Come see,” he said and took her hand once more.

The stable block was separate to the house, tucked away to the side and that’s where he took her. The large arched doors were propped open and the carriage was parked in the entrance. There were stalls for far more horses than Spike owned and at the end was what looked like a hayloft, a half floor reached by a wooden ladder that was propped at its edge. The sweet smell of fresh straw mingled with the stale dank smell of a pile of old burlap sacks containing some rotting vegetable matter. Buffy wrinkled up her nose as Spike led her past them thinking that he really ought to ask Alex to clean the place up a little.

“Where does Alex disappear to all the time?” she asked Spike as he led her to a stall. “For a hired man, he doesn’t seem to do an awful lot of work.”

Spike shrugged. “He looks after the coach and horses. It’s all I need him for.” Then he opened the stall door and gestured proudly. “There you go, what do you think?”

Buffy stared, wide –eyed. When he’d said a present she had to admit that her first thought had been of jewellery. Then, when he’d taken her to the stables she thought that it might be a horse, although she couldn’t imagine why he would want to buy her a horse when he only ever allowed her out at night.

Two goats were the last thing she’d expected to see.

“Goats,” were all she could think of to say, and then she sidled behind Spike because the billy-goat was giving her a very strange look.

“Very observant,” Spike said wryly. “Thought you might like to have fresh milk on tap, as it were.”

Buffy came out from behind him, folded her arms and glared at the billy. “You are one very surprising man, Spike. Do you mean to take up farming?”

“Not really, thought you might appreciate it, that’s all.” Then he grinned. “Bet no-one’s ever given you a goat before, eh?”

“You’re right there,” she said. “And I’m sure the more I get to know you, the more you’ll keep surprising me.”

“Probably,” he replied nonchalantly. “Buffy, are you feeling alright? You were rubbing your stomach back there, is it hurting?”

Buffy glanced at him curiously. How had her seen her do that? It had only been a brief gesture, and she wasn’t aware that he’d been looking. “No, I’m fine,” she reassured him. “I was just thinking of something, that’s all.”

“Well, as long as that’s all,” Spike replied, then he turned back to the goats. “I knew enough that we had to get one of each so that they could produce a kid before we’d have milk, but you’ll have to milk her.”

“Me?” Buffy said, laughing at the notion. “I’ve never milked anything in my life.”

“Neither have I,” Spike said. “Do you think she’s already pregnant?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy said surveying the nanny goat. “They do tend to have large stomachs anyway.” She tilted her head. “Maybe, but time will tell, will it not?”

“I suppose so,” Spike said and he started to lose interest in the goats and instead turn his attention to the row of buttons that formed the front fastening of the new gown he’d bought her. He’d opened three before she even noticed. “So, fancy a tumble in the hay then?” he said with a wink.

And the familiar tingling had already started. Small waves of anticipation rippling across her skin where his fingers grazed it as he worked. When he felt her consent he gave up all pretence of stealth and instead turned to her and undid them swiftly and efficiently, all the while gazing into her eyes and holding her in place.

He didn’t need to do that any more, she wasn’t going anywhere. Wasn’t going to run as she’d tried to do on her first night in the house. A night that seemed to belong in another story, it was so far removed from where they were now.

She gazed back, her own fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt, mimicking his actions and undoing it with practiced ease. It was no less erotic when they did this, perhaps even more so because they knew exactly what they were doing and why. Knew exactly where it was leading and he liked her boldness in this, she knew because he’d told her. Liked it when she took an active part instead of just letting him do things to her and he loved it when she sidled up to him and suggested that they make love. It seemed to excite him more than anything when she told him in deeds as well as words how much she wanted him.

“So, what were you thinking about?” He said it casually, at the same time slipping the dress over her shoulders along with the straps of her camisole and then bending to kiss each curve as he exposed it.

Buffy tipped her head to the side to give him better access. She was getting used to this. He could be an intensely focussed lover, seeing nothing but her and her needs, but not when he had something on his mind. He was asking for reassurance and she knew he wouldn’t properly rest until she gave it. Knew that he still feared that she was either going to disappear, or die on him.

“I’m fine, Spike.” She tipped her head again as he kissed his way to her other shoulder. “I was just wondering if I might have a child one day.”

Spike froze, only for an instant before resuming his kisses, but she felt it. Surely he must want a child? Didn’t all men want an heir to carry the family name?

Then she realised that she didn’t even know what the family name was.

“No need to worry about that,” he said pulling the dress down and freeing her breasts. “I won’t get you pregnant.”

“Oh.” It came out before she realised that she probably shouldn’t have said it out loud nor sounded so disappointed.

“Thought you’d be pleased about that,” he said and bent his head, his hands holding her in place for the attentions of his mouth and tongue.

She didn’t say anything and Spike continued to suck and nip at her sensitive skin, skilful fingers fluttering over one breast while his mouth worked a cool, wet trail across the other. He worked diligently for a few minutes, then he looked up.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“What?” Buffy shook herself out of her musings. The way he’d dismissed her comment so casually had thrown her somewhat and she’d only been half aware of his attentions. He couldn’t give her a baby? The illness perhaps? And he didn’t even sound sorry not to be able to. She, on the other hand was more disappointed than she ever thought she would be by his words, and she scolded herself for it. Scolded herself for already having imagined it as real, the living image of one or other of them.

“You don’t want children then?”

“I can’t, Buffy, give you a baby that is.” He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “Why, did you want one?” He sounded surprised when he said it, as if the implications of his words had just dawned on him.

Buffy felt herself blushing and tried to turn away, but he stopped her by circling his arms around her and holding her in place.

“Buffy,” he began, then he didn’t seem to know what else to say. When she tried to pull up the straps of her camisole he stopped her and then he tried again. “I’m sorry if that’s what you were expecting from me.”

She tried to step away again, by now thoroughly embarrassed at having run on to possibilities that he seemed disinclined to offer her, and she was partially successful. He had her again before she’d gone two steps, his fingers under her chin, holding her face so that it was tilted towards his and she had no option but to look at him.

“Look at me, love, and listen carefully. I’m not saying this very well and I don’t want you to think I wouldn’t want this, with you, if I could. I’d always thought I’d have children, an heir to carry the family name, a daughter to indulge, but I can’t.”

He stopped for breath and Buffy stayed where she was, trapped in his gaze and wondering at the sadness that she saw there as he made his speech. She’d mistaken it for callousness, but it wasn’t that. He gazed back for a few moments, his eyes scanning her face, taking in every expression and emotion that moved across hers, then he continued in a quiet voice.

“If that’s what you want, love, and I wouldn’t blame you if you did, then you’d better leave me now, because you’ll never have that with me.”

He hid it well, the pain under the mask of bravado and there was almost a challenge in his voice as he spoke. As if what he was really saying was that she had to realise by now, that he wasn’t a normal man and she had to make her choice about whether she could live with that, once and for all.

She could also see how many pieces his heart would shatter into if she said what he was obviously dreading she would say. But she already knew, with perfect clarity which option she would choose. And what she was prepared to give up, to be with him.

“Then we’ll just have to adopt a couple, or three, or four.” She managed a genuine smile because the look of surprise on his face at her response made her want to laugh out loud. And because she’d only just realised that they’d had the whole of this very serious conversation in the middle of the stable, under the very suspicious gaze of the two goats and with both her breasts hanging out of her dress.

“You are the most surprising woman I’ve ever met,” he said after letting out a long sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to leave him over it. Then he spun her around and pushed her towards the ladder. “Hayloft now, woman,” he said urging her forward and she could see that he was already working on the buttons of his trousers.

“But Alex might come in to see to the horses.”

“And he’ll know better than to interrupt us, now climb that ladder,” Spike ordered.

So she did, and then she was tumbling beneath him, giggling as he pulled her top right down and freed her arms. She did the same to him and slid his shirt eagerly away and he stopped momentarily to strip it off and throw it away from him, in a trademark gesture.

“I love it when you do that,” she said flattening her palms against his smooth, hairless chest. “Makes me think that you really want me, that you can’t get to me fast enough.”

“You’d better believe it woman, now, let’s get this dress off you.” He started to tug it further down, but she stopped him.

“No, let me leave it on. You might not worry about Alex finding us, but I do. Besides,” she said with a teasing wriggle, “do you not think that it is quite erotic to leave some clothing on so that something is left to the imagination?”

“I have a very good imagination,” he said raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Slide your skirt up slowly then, and let me watch, because I love it when you do that.” He sat back on his heels and continued with his unbuttoning. “Come on, wench, get on with it.”

“Wench?” Buffy giggled again. “You’ve been reading entirely too many penny novels,” she said and then she did as he’d asked her to always surprised at the effect doing this for him had on her as well. A heated flush crept over her skin as she revealed it to him inch by inch. Then she lifted her foot and slid her toes slowly down his chest. He caught it and brought it to him mouth.

And his eyes did that strange thing that they sometimes did when they seemed to glow a deep amber.

Spike growled against her foot, put it carefully down, then slid both his hands the entire length of her legs, sweeping his fingertips over the inside of her thighs, teasing the soft skin and then burying themselves in her hot, wet, centre..

She was more than ready for him, but before they did this she knew that there was something she had to say. No matter how much she told herself it didn’t matter, there was always going to be a barrier between them if they weren’t entirely honest with each other.

“Spike,” she said placing her hands over his. “I want to ask you something before we do this. And I think you need it as much as I do.”

“It was almost as if he knew what she was going to say. He nodded, his lips pressed together as if he was bowing to some inevitable truth. And she could see that he was steeling himself for the revelation.

“I told myself that I didn’t need to know, because it didn’t matter who or what you were.” She sat up and put her fingers on his cheek, gazing into eyes that had turned back to blue, and held him there. “And if you don’t want to tell me this secret of yours, then don’t, I’ll stay anyway. But, wouldn’t you rather that I stayed, knowing what’s wrong with you. Knowing everything about you, no matter what it is and still wanting you. Wouldn’t you rather have that?”

“Of course I would,” he replied. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“Le me be the judge of that,” she said trying to make out the look on his face. It was almost one of shame, she thought. “Spike,” she reassured him, “I already know you’ve killed people and I’m sure you only did it because you had to. I’m not going to judge you. And what could you possibly have to tell me that is worse than you are a murderer?”

“Oh, it’s a lot worse, love.”

Again there was the challenge in his voice, and the terror. As if this was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

“Whatever it is, I won’t mind,” she said keeping hold of him because it felt as if he was going to bolt clean away. He grabbed her hand suddenly and kissed it fervently.

“Let me make love to you first, and then I’ll tell you what’s really wrong with me. And if you want to go then, I won’t stop you.”

“I won’t want to leave, Spike. As I didn’t when you told me you couldn’t give me children. No matter what you say.”

Spike pulled her to him almost roughly, desperation making him hold her too hard, so that she knew she was going to bruise, and kiss her for too long so that she was gasping for air. It was almost as if he was trying to tell her without words what he was.

He pushed her down on the thin bed of straw and slammed into her hard making her cry out his name and then he stopped and just looked at her for a long, long moment, and she realised with a fluttering heart that this was it. The moment she’d asked for had come and he was about to tell her whatever it was that was so terrible a secret that it kept him hidden in the dark, in this old house and away from everything and everyone.

And so like him to want to tell her while they were doing this. While he was holding her to him as closely as two people could possibly get. She slipped her arms around his shoulders to show him that she was with him, no matter what. Felt his hips pushing into hers, as he tried to get even deeper inside.

“I want you to see, what I really am,” he said at last.

“I already know.”

“No, you don’t,” he said sadly. “You have no idea.”

Her nerves at what he was about to reveal completely evaporated at the naked expression on his face just then. She’d thought herself in love with him, but she hadn’t known how much, until now. “Tell me,” she said, “I want to know everything.”

What he did next should have been the most shocking thing she’d ever seen in her life. When the bones of his face slowly rearranged themselves into what looked like a monstrous mask, she tensed, but more in surprise than anything. He looked away as soon as he’d done it and refused to look at her until she touched his deformed features and gently guided him back.

“See what I am?” he said in a thick, lisping voice that she’d heard before.

He had her fast and he wasn’t about to let go, but then, neither did she want him to. Buffy closed her eyes so that all she could feel was Spike without the distraction of what he was, or had been, or even what he was going to be in light of this revelation. It still felt like him. She opened her eyes, slowly.

“Why wasn’t she shocked? Horrified, even. Why wasn’t she beating him off and running screaming into the night?

Because, just as she’d heard the voice before, now she realised that she recognised the face too, in momentary flashes that she thought she’d imagined. Here and there, and in her dreams she’d already known this part of him existed, and it all fell into place. And she could still see Spike in there, and William and whoever this was looking at her now, all of them pleading with her to understand.

Again, time seemed to have slowed down and stretched out painfully thin. The two of them at a moment that would either make or break them, and all depending on what she did next.

“What are you?” she said, her voice shaking. “Tell me.”

And he did. Doing something that left her in no doubt. Opening his mouth he showed her two sharp teeth, then he bent his head and pushed his face into her neck. She gave a sharp gasp as they pierced her skin and he sucked, three times, long and hard making her blood careen around her body in a mad frenzy with every pull.

Pictures flashed through her mind. He’d bitten her in the coach, and sucked her blood, but strange as she’d thought it was, she’d never made this connection. Because it was too fantastic even to think about.

When he pulled away, there was a throbbing ache where his mouth had been and another between her legs where he’d withdrawn and pushed back into her just as he’d bitten down. Her blood streaked his lips and a thin line of it escaped to trickle down his chin and drip onto her breast. He lowered his head and licked it off carefully and reverently, telling her something when he did that too.

And, stunned as she was at the revelation she knew that she needed to say, or do something now, while he was like this to show how grateful she was that he’d had the courage to show her.

He dipped his head and she jerked in his arms, thinking that he was going to bite her again, but all he did was clean up the new wound that he’d left her.

“Why aren’t you shocked?” he asked her, still holding on as she struggled to relax.

“Spike, let go, you’re hurting me,” she replied. He was still in there, no matter what he looked like now and to her relief he did let go. But he stayed where he was, one arm braced on either side, still buried inside her and still in demon face.

Or whatever he was when he was like this.

Buffy lifted her hand and touched him again. The demon flinched, then growled softly. “Because I think I already knew,” she said. “It was right here, under my nose, and I just wasn’t seeing it.”

“You should be scared of me,” the demon said.

Buffy kept her gaze as steady as she could, because she could feel the panic rising in her now. Spike was a mixture of William, and this other thing that lived inside him, but William was no longer anywhere to be seen. The demon tilted its head from side to side, scanning her face with its yellow eyes as it appraised her and she forced herself to stay still and willed herself to be calm.

“Do I need to be?” she asked it.

There was a long silence during which Buffy fought hard to stop herself from trembling too much and the demon continued with its careful scrutiny. Eventually, to her great relief it shook its head and something of the Spike she knew returned to its demeanour as the bones started to shift back to his normal face.

“No,” she said. “Don’t change back.”

He stopped, part Spike, part demon now. A question in his expression.

“Stay as you are,” she said pulling him back down to her. “I want to tell you something and this is the best way I know of expressing it. This will let you know how I feel about this better than any words could.” She shifted her hips, pushing herself flush against him and felt him harden instantly.

“Stay as you are,” she said. “And make love to me.”

Chapter 11

"Could you make me into a vampire, Spike?"

"If you wanted me to." Spike stared up at the night sky. William wanted her human, his demon wanted her a vampire, and it was driving him insane. Since his turning, there'd been no question that a vampire was what he was. The human part of him had fallen away so quickly that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be one. Until now. Maybe that was why the human was winning this argument.

"I'm not asking you to, just wondered if you could."

Spike rolled his head to look at Buffy who was lying beside him on the grass and he tried to picture that perfect profile distorted by ridges and bumps, her teeth elongated into fangs. He remembered how surprised and revolted he'd been the first time he'd seen Dru change. And then, later when he'd realised that there were advantages to being a vampire that went beyond the obvious, how excited it always made him.

"I don't have much luck with it."

Buffy turned to him so that they were facing each other. "Oh? How's that?"

"Well," Spike laughed to himself. "I keep forgetting that when they rise, they'll be evil vampires. Gets me every time."

"But Alex isn't so evil, and you turned him. Am I right?"

Spike slid an arm under Buffy's head and pulled her onto him. "Grass is damp, don't want you catching a chill. Do you want to go in?"

"No Spike." She made herself comfortable and pressed a kiss, through his shirt, onto his chest. "I want to have this conversation, and you keep trying to avoid it. We said we were going to be honest with each other, and I need to understand what this will all mean. It's not every day that your lover announces he's a vampire now, is it?"

"You can't blame me for not wanting to have it," Spike said. "I'm just terrified that you're going to leave me. All the others did."

"Were there many, others?"

He looked down at her, then buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. "I love the way you smell."

"So, you're not going to answer that?"

Her fingers were fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. She'd opened one and Spike willed her to carry on. He couldn't just smell her hair, her arousal was overwhelming his senses and he knew what she really wanted. But she had to be the most persistent woman that he'd ever met and he knew that she wouldn't give in until he'd told her what she wanted to know.

"William had no luck at all in love," he said at length, because she wasn't going any further until he'd told her, and he was in the mood to be seduced tonight. They'd come out here to make love under the stars, but she was too much like him, wouldn't give her attention to it until she'd got all these questions out of the way. "Spike hadn't either, until he met you."

"Spike," she said, her tone reproachful. "Don't tell me you hadn't had many women before me, because I won't believe you. It was obvious you were very experienced in these matters."

"Maybe I'm a fast learner? And anyhow, I was talking about love, not sex." Spike knew full well which way the conversation was going. There were things she needed to know and things he didn't want her to know. How was she ever going to understand about all the people he'd killed? All the innocent young girls? "Are you going to seduce me, or not? I'm ready and willing," he said trying for a leery grin, but not sure that it was coming out that way. For emphasis he took her hand and flattened her palm over his the front of his trousers. "See, what you do to me? Come on, woman, get on with it."

She sat up.

"Would it help if I said please?" Spike sat up too and put his arm around her shoulders, needing to be close because it scared him when she put distance between them.

She leaned back against him and rubbed the top of her head against his chin. "I'm sorry, Spike. I have so many questions in my head. So much to sort out."

"You're going to leave me, aren't you?" he said miserably, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. It made him hold her tighter even though he'd told her she was free to go at any time. They hadn't had to put that promise to the test yet and he found himself wondering what he'd really do if she decided to go. Would his demon just take over then?

Her hand on his arm calmed him a little and she turned her head and tilted it upwards for a kiss. When he finally released her she lay back in his arms.

"I'm not going to leave you, Spike. Didn't I tell you I loved you?"

"It worries me that you will, love. Couldn't bear it."

"I know. So talk to me and then," her hand was resting on his thigh and she moved it, very slowly, sweeping it upwards and round to the curve of his buttock. She squeezed lightly and he pulled her back, hard against him as his blood boiled.

"Then you'll what, love?" he said dropping his mouth to her neck and starting a line of kisses that worked their way to her shoulder. "You make me remember what it was like to be hot, do you know that?"

"Spike." She didn't finish her sentence, because she didn't have to, her body told him everything he needed to know and he knew that if he pushed for it just a little harder, she would give in. Stubborn she may be, but she was also human. Spike sighed heavily and dramatically.

"You know why I don't want to have this conversation with you. You're not going to like the answers."

"I've chosen to love a vampire," she began.

"Not strictly true," he corrected her. "You fell in love with me before you knew I was a vampire."

"Yes, but I stayed, didn't I? When really, I should have run away screaming."

"So, why didn't you?"

"Because I love you, I suppose. I still really don't understand it, but I think that you shouldn't look for perfection in people or you'll be disappointed. All I felt when you revealed what you were was pity, for you. Sorrow that you'd had to endure that."

As she spoke her hand continued with its restless exploration and Spike felt himself moving to the edge of his control.

'She's leaving us,' his demon told him, a note of panic in its voice. 'Can't you feel it?'

'Not going anywhere,' Spike reassured it wishing that he could know for sure that it was true.

'Take her back to the house and lock the door,' the demon continued. 'And lie through your teeth, because these questions of hers are getting dangerous.'

"Keep doing that, love and I'll have to rip your dress off and ravage you right here," he said tipping her back so that he could look into her eyes. Bending his head he kissed her breasts in turn, leisurely circling each nipple with his tongue before sitting her up again. "Would you like me to do that?"

She didn't have to answer. Vampire senses told him that she had little control left too. Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated by the darkness, and by the desire he ignited in her. Her skin rippled and tingled with it, heating up every time he touched her. And her blood moved to the rhythm of his caress, wildly surging around her body and making his demon tremble with anticipation.

And still she resisted him.

"My god, woman," he said, not too unkindly. "You're absolutely determined to do this, aren't you?" Firmly, he set her away from him and folded his arms to keep them still. "You sit there and don't move. You're just too bloody distracting. And when you've done I'm going to take you back to the house and give you such a seeing to that you won't be able to stand for a week."

"Is that a promise," Buffy said raising her eyebrows, feigning shock.

"Count on it, love. If you don't frustrate me to death first, that is."

"That's one of the things I've been wanting to ask you," Buffy said warming to her subject. "Vampires can be killed, can't they?"

"Yes, but only in certain ways."

Buffy made herself comfortable, staying out of his reach as he'd asked her to. "I want to know everything, Spike. This is only going to work if you can be honest with me. I need to know."

Spike nodded.

"Thank you," she said plucking at a stalk of grass. "Now let's start with this. If you were going to make me into a vampire, how would you do it?"

--------------------------------------------------

<i>You'll never know how much I want this. For you to join me in the dark. I'm a demon and they say we are incapable of love. But what do they know? Perhaps this isn't love. Perhaps it's just a desire to have and possess. That would be more in keeping wouldn't it?

William loves you. You should see him, sighing and dreaming over you. When you're within his sight all he does is gaze at you and when you are not he is forever looking for you and wondering where you are. You're his link to humanity and I know what he's afraid of. That if you go then he won't exist anymore.

He wants you, but so do I. He wants to be yours, but I want you to be mine. He'll take care of the soft, sweet kisses, but I'll leave your lips swollen and trembling and aching for more. His touch will be tender and gentle, but even though my blood is cold, my hands will burn you.

He may touch your heart, but I'll touch you in places you never dreamed existed. He'll ask for that heart, but I'll demand your soul.

You have no idea what you have here, little girl. No idea what you've done. Hell is screaming out in protest and the heavens are laughing.

Have you an idea what you've done?</i>

------------------------------------------------------

"Spike?" Buffy waved a hand in front of his face and he started then blinked. <i>Please don't ask me,</i> he thought frantically. <i> Too tempting. Just thinking about it, what we could have if only I could be sure. I can't take the risk. Please don't ask me.</i>

"You looked as if you were in a trance, Spike." She dipped her head to look into his eyes. "Are you alright?"

Spike rubbed his face with his hands and pushed back his hair. "Yes," he said wearily. "We're alright. What was the question again?"

"I asked how vampires were made."

----------------------------------------------

<i>No, you didn't love. You asked how I would do it if I turned you. And William won't listen to this. Won't even contemplate it. But I'm a demon, I've already got it planned. Spike only has to give the word.

First, I'd make love to you. Or perhaps I should say I'd have sex with you? I'd take you to the heights of passion, until you were so drunk with it that you didn't know who you were any more. And then, just when you thought you'd had it all, I'd move your hair aside and you'd tilt your neck and offer yourself to me because by now you'd be powerless to resist.

William would want one last moment to gaze into your eyes before I killed you. What would he see? Terror or acceptance? Would you ever come to this willingly? Would Spike ever let me take you, unwilling?

Willing or unwilling, my teeth would find their own way to the blood and it would only hurt a little, I'd make sure of that. For you. A sharp sting, but not one you hadn't felt before. Then the mad frenzy of your blood flowing out of you and into me. Taking your life and giving it to me while my hands roamed your body and made you cry out for more, even as you were dying.

Then, when your heart was fluttering, in its last, vain attempts to keep beating, I'd make you drink from me. My blood and my face would be the last thing you remembered before you died.

Then I would wait, quite possibly with a terror I'd never known before, for you to rise. And then I'd know. What I'd done. What you'd become. Then I'd know whether I was to live, or die. Because if I ruin you in that way, then we all die. Spike will show you the same mercy he showed to his mother, but it will be the end of him too.

The end of all of us. </i>

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Spike? Are you going to tell me?"

"Not now." Spike raised his hands and shook off the demon. "Don't make me say it. I don't want to turn you, Buffy. You wouldn't be you any more, and it's you I love."

She moved then, despite him having told her not to, and her arms went around him. "Not even if I asked you to?" she whispered.

"Don't do that, love. Don't ask."

He held onto her with such desperation that she twisted herself into his lap, getting as close as she could. "I don't think I'd like to be a vampire," she said pressing her cheek against his. "But where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us here and now," he said. "The future is just something to worry about. We have this, and we have it now. We should listen to it, and hold on to it and just love each other while we can." He couldn't keep the bitter tears out of his voice, neither did he try. "It's all we have," he said. "All we'll ever have."

Buffy raised her head and kissed him. She did it gently, she did it carefully, and she did it with love. As if she was aware of how fragile he was just then. Of how he would shatter at the slightest pressure. Everyone has their limits and this was his moment. Sometimes all you want to do is just lay down your head and not take another step. You just want someone to catch you as you fall, and she did.

"Then it makes all other questions irrelevant," she said with a wisdom that went beyond her eighteen years. "I was going to ask you how you felt about all the people you'd killed. Whether you were going to go on killing. But what does it matter? I'm finding I'm selfish, Spike. I want you and I've made that decision."

She managed a small laugh as he stared, and listened incredulously to her speech.

"Have you any idea," he said framing her face with his hands. "Just what you've done to my whole existence? I haven't killed anyone since the day you nearly died."

"I'm going to save you, Spike. You still want me to, don't you?"

All he could do was nod and press his forehead against hers. As a vampire he knew all about living in the moment and seizing opportunities. About not caring about the future and forgetting the past. As a human he'd done nothing but worry about past mistakes and fret about what the future might bring. It was an uncomfortable feeling and one, which he'd been glad to shed. But here it was, happening all over again.

"Don't think about it," he said. "If we start thinking about it we'll never move from this spot. I can feel you. Your heart beating, your blood flowing and you feel warm and solid. Tell me you can feel me."

"I can, Spike." Her hands tightened on his arms. "You're right here, with me."

"Tell me it's enough."

"It's more than enough." Buffy stood up and held out her hand. "Come on, I need you to love me, Spike. Tonight more than at any other time."

"If you reach out with enough love, one day you might touch the stars," he said quietly.

"Did you write that?"

Spike pressed his lips together and nodded. "In another life."

"Life what we make it, my love."

"Not always," he said. "Sometimes it takes you places you don't want to go."

"Then all we can do is try," she said. "Give it our best effort, and hope that we'll prevail."

"You dazzle me, Buffy."

He still hadn't moved and neither had she. Framed by moonlight and a sky full of stars she stood before him like the angel of his salvation. It was a slender thread to clutch at, he knew full well that he deserved no less than the hottest fires of hell for his crimes, but how could he not reach out for this little bit of heaven on earth?

"I believe that you were once a good man," she said in a soft voice. "And you can be once again. I believe it, Spike."

"I'm a vampire," he said. "A demon. There's nothing good left in me."

"You can love, and that's what's going to save you. What wouldn't you do for love, Spike? For this?"

"Nothing," he said. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"Nor I for you," she replied in a calm steady voice. "Have you any idea what you've done for me already. How much you've made me love you?"

"Enough words," he said, and took her hand. But he didn't get up. Instead, he drew her down and rolled her beneath him. "Show me," he whispered. "And make me feel it. Please. Don't ever stop making me feel it."

-----------------------------------------------

"Spike, come quickly."

Spike looked up. "She's had it?"

"The kid, yes she has, come see."

Buffy threw him the old leather coat he used to stop himself from burning in the sun and he draped it over his head. Then he wasn't going fast enough so she pulled him after her, anxious for him to witness the miraculous event. When they got to the stables she made him stop and promise to be quiet and together they tiptoed in.

"Isn't it sweet?"

"Looks very much like a baby goat to me," he said dryly.

"Yes, but they're so endearing aren't they?" Buffy tilted her head and surveyed the two goats, surprised at the stab of jealousy she felt that even a goat could have a little one to love and she never would. She put the thought firmly from her mind and turned to Spike. "So, when do you think we can start milking her?"

"I've no idea," he said moving up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "I'm surprised they're all still alive."

"Well of course they're all still alive. Would you have like to have been a farmer?" she asked him.

His hands crept higher. "No, not really. It's very tasty, as I can remember."

Buffy pushed them down again. "What is?"

"Kid."

"Spike!" She turned, appalled. "You're not suggesting we eat it, are you?"

"Only if it's a male. If it's female we'll keep it for breeding."

"How could you say that? Don't listen, Victoria, he doesn't mean it."

"Victoria?" Spike chuckled and leaned his chin onto her shoulder. "Let me guess, the big guy's Albert."

"Of course," Buffy said, and we are not eating their baby."

Buffy felt him lifting her hair and then he was nuzzling at her neck. "No, Spike, I have jobs to do," she protested.

"Like what?" he asked without stopping what he was doing.

"Bread to bake, the house to clean."

"This is more important," he said sweeping her off her feet. "I'll be quick, then you can get on with your chores."

"<i>My</i> chores?" she said arching an eyebrow.

Spike narrowed his eyes. "You have some strange ideas, woman. You're dangerous, do you know that?"

"Put me down, Spike," she commanded him tugging at the arm holding her so securely. "I really need to make some bread."

"Spoilsport," he said, but put her down as she requested.

"Come make yourself useful and help me with the flour sack," she said and skipped ahead of him. "You may not have to eat, but I do."

"Very well," he grumbled and picked up the coat looking every bit like a sulky little boy who'd had his toys taken away.

"I'll make it up to you," she said and winked at him coyly over her shoulder. Then she lifted up her skirts and took off across the yard and towards the house. He always caught her before they were more than halfway across and it always brought his demon out. It was something about the chase, she'd decided and he didn't seem to be able to help it. The first time she'd been surprised, but then she'd realised that this was a good way to get to know it. Spike seemed to have control over it and the sex was nothing short of phenomenal.

He had her around the waist and ran the last few steps into the entrance lobby to the kitchen wing of the house throwing the coat down as he went. And then the rough, stone wall was at her back as he pushed her against it and shoved up her skirts. The surge of excitement that coursed through her when he caught her and she glimpsed his demon face meant that she was always ready for him. So that when he slammed into her a mere few seconds later she was already dripping and hot.

It was always her call though. An unspoken agreement between them that if she ran, then she was fair game and fully consenting. The sharp stab of his fangs made her cry out and then, after his allotted two sips, he withdrew and licked the wound clean in an almost apologetic manner. His yellow eyes always a little sheepish. Strong hands held her when her legs threatened to buckle under her and then his face changed back.

"Bloody hell, woman, you excite me so much," Spike said as he caressed her cheek. "You never cease to surprise me."

"Then that's a good thing," she told him and couldn't help feeling pleased at the way she could make him want her. "So, we shall never be bored."

"No chance of that, pet." Spike leaned forward for a long, lingering kiss. "Thank you," he said. "For letting me do it like that."

"I need to wash," she said. "Are you happy now?"

"Do I look it?"

"You look supremely pleased with yourself."

"Possibly because I am," he replied with a grin.

Buffy went into the small scullery and quickly cleaned herself off with a cloth. Spike lolled against the door, arms folded, watching her.

"You're not bored, are you?"

She looked up. "Why do you ask that?"

"You said the word," he shrugged. "Just wondered, that's all."

"I can't pretend I wouldn't like to go dancing and to the theatre, like normal people do, but I know it's not possible, Spike. It doesn't worry me, really it doesn't."

"Wish I could take you dancing love."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful? And the Music Hall, my father would so not approve."

"You are bored."

Buffy quickly crossed the room, aware that her eyes had probably been shining just a little too much at the prospect of a diversion other than tending goats and housekeeping. And Spike was looking terribly crest-fallen, as he was prone to do when he felt insecure.

"A little boredom is a price I don't mind paying to be safe, and here with you." He relaxed gratefully into her arms and she soothed him with a hand in his hair. "I'm not going to leave because of it," she told him. "So stop worrying about that."

He managed a nod of agreement, which made her happy because the last thing she wanted was for him to think her ungrateful. Then he raised his head.

"I don't see why we can't go out," he said.

Buffy scanned his face, carefully watching him for signs that he meant it. He raised his eyebrows, but she could see that he was hoping she'd disagree with him. So she did, disappointed as it made her feel.

"We can't risk it," she said and moved towards the kitchen to start making the bread. "Rest assured that my family will leave no stone unturned in their quest to find me. Not a good idea."

"You're probably right," Spike said making a show of reluctantly agreeing with her. "Perhaps one day, when it's all calmed down, I'll take you up to London. Would you like that? We could stay at a swish hotel."

"That would be nice," she said attempting to bring the conversation to a close. "Fetch me the flour sack, would you?"

Spike did as he was told and set it down on the kitchen table. "It's not as if you'll ever have children to occupy yourself with," he continued.

Buffy slipped on her apron. "I'll survive it though. Would you get the ladder out and look at the guttering at the front of the house, tonight? I think it's blocked."

"I'll get Alex to do it."

Pulling out a chair he sat down to watch her, elbows on the table, his chin in his hands. Buffy worked at the bread for a few minutes then turned to him, smiling.

"I don't need all your attention every moment of the day," she said. "If you've things to do, then feel free."

"Like watching, that's all. You're very pleasant to look at," he said smiling back.

"But you follow me around all day." She glanced up from her vigorous kneading, hitching up her sleeves where they were falling down and covering them with flour. "I'm not saying I don't like it, just that you needn't. You're out half the night, shouldn't you be catching up on your sleep?"

"Just want to make sure you're safe, love."

"But my brother wouldn't come here, surely. There's nothing to connect me with this place."

Spike went uncharacteristically quiet for a few moments so she continued with the very satisfying task of pummelling the dough into submission. Then a thought struck her. "You're not worried about anything else, are you?"

The big giveaway was that he didn't answer her immediately. It only took a heartbeat, but she noticed the hesitation before he told her, with false brightness that no, there was nothing else on his mind. She dropped the dough back into the bowl and covered it with a cloth, then she set it to rise on the warmth of the cast iron range.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked turning back to him.

Spike closed his eyes, then he opened them and scraped back his chair. "Sit here," he said patting his knee. "But I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily."

Buffy took a moment to fill the kettle and place it on the hotplate before doing as he requested. With her arms around his neck she gazed into his face and was shocked to see the concern that he couldn't hide.

"Let's go to America," he said suddenly. "A new beginning. What do you say?"

"America?" It was the very last thing she thought he'd say. He waited, expectantly and when she'd got over her shock she managed a reply. "I'd love to go to America," she said actually feeling excited at the prospect. "But we can disappear in England just as easily. There are many places we can go where my brother will never find us."

The way his hand moved restlessly over her thigh spoke more of concern than any sexual motive, and although she knew he worried about her obsessively this had nothing to do with her brother. Spike could best him easily if he should ever show up. This was different. An indefinable threat, and something she could see that even his demon was afraid of.

"Spike," she said moving in closer to him as the very air seemed to chill around her. "What is it?"

For a few moments the two of them sat holding each other and the feeling of dread increased. It radiated off Spike in waves and in turn caused her heart to start a painful hammering in her chest. She fought to control it, knowing that Spike would react to her fear and just now they both needed to be in control. Leaning her head on his shoulder she let herself go limp.

"Calm down love," she said patting his arm. "You're holding me too tightly."

His grip immediately loosened and he gave her an apologetic kiss. "Sorry about that."

"Tell me what it is that frightens you so. It's not my brother, is it?"

"No, it's not," he said and glanced at the door. She did too, before he continued. "Buffy, I don't think we're safe here any more."

"Why not?" Her heart slithered down into her boots as he spoke and like a dream on waking, the cosy life she'd already imagined for them, in this house, faded and slipped away.

"Because I've got family problems too," he said. "And believe me, compared to mine, yours are nothing."

"Your family are looking for you too?"

"My vampire family, love. And it's not me they're looking for."

Buffy tensed at his words and looked around, despite the fact that they were the only two people in the kitchen. The tone of his voice, his whole demeanour, made her think that this threat was very real.

"You mean me? Why should they be looking for me?"

It was Spike's turn to calm her. "Shh," he said. "I won't let them anywhere near you, but we need to leave, and soon."

"Leave?" Buffy knew she sounded disappointed, but she couldn't help it. This place was already beginning to feel like home in a way her real home never had. "But you got the goats, and I've done all that work on the garden, I thought…"

"Yes, so did I," Spike said in a resigned tone. "I'm really sorry love, I've been fooling myself these past few weeks, that we could live here and just get on with our lives. But it's not to be, I can feel it. They're coming, Buffy but the important thing is this, me and you. Yes?"

"Of course." No hesitation there and she squeezed him hard to show she meant it.

"Then you trust me on this?"

"Yes." Her voice was small and Spike caught her cheek and made her look at him.

"No, you really have to trust me, I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was this important. Now say it."

"Spike, I do trust you," she said making sure that this time she sounded as if she meant it. "But I don't understand why they should want me? What have I done to them?"

"Nothing, it's just what they do, and if you knew what I know you'd be upstairs packing this very minute."

His words chilled her to the bone and for the first time in weeks Spike felt very cold as he held her. Reminding her that he had more in common with them, his vampire family, than with her. Even though she'd seen his demon face there was still a side of him that she suspected he kept hidden from her. A side she wasn't anxious to see, despite her protestations that he be totally honest with her.

"One of them made you a vampire?"

"I was sired by a crazy-woman," Spike said with a humourless laugh. "That's probably why I'm such an aberration. But she's got these abilities, psychic, I don't know what it is with her, she always knows where to find me. There are blood ties that go with family, it's complicated, but Angelus won't rest until he's found you."

"Angelus?"

"The grand-sire, I suppose you'd call him. One person you don't want to meet."

"What will he do if he finds me?"

"One of two things."

"Kill me, or make me a vampire." Buffy stated it as a fact and also had the distinct impression that she should have said when and not if he finds me.

"I hate having to leave you at night to go feed, but I have to, and it's too dangerous to take you with me. And yes, Angelus will do either of those things, I didn't want to frighten you so much but I can't ignore the threat any longer, much as I want to."

"Then we'll leave," she said resolutely. "Let's go to America, like you said. Or South America, no-one will find us there." She took a moment to fiddle with his collar which always seemed to be askew and then she straightened her spine ad looked him in the eye. "I was only scared because I could feel you were," she said. "But I'll protect you, tell me again how vampires can be killed."

Spike let out a short, incredulous laugh and took her hand. She stopped him before he had a chance to speak because she knew what he was going to say.

"No, don't laugh," she said seriously. "I may be small, but this Angelus is not going to spoil things for us, and I dare him to try. If he wants to harm you, then he'll have to go through me."

"Which is exactly what he intends to do," Spike replied, his eyes still a little wide as he took in her determination. "We can't beat him, love. All we can do is run away."

"Then we'll run," she said slipping from his lap and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Tears were of no use to them now, there would be time for that later, when they were far from here. "I'm not so stupid as to invite a confrontation with him, but you must show me what to do if I should ever meet him." Looking around frantically she spotted a wooden spoon on the table, left over from the bread-making and a sudden picture of Victoria defending her baby as they tried to take it away from her popped into her mind.

Snatching up the spoon she handed it to the still rather stunned-looking Spike. "Pretend this is a sharpened stake," she said. "I know it has to go through the heart, show me what to do."

Buffy tried to imagine it, her killing someone. Could she do it, even to an evil vampire? Then she looked at Spike.

What couldn't you do if you had reason enough? If you reached out with enough love you could touch the stars.

"Show me what to do," she repeated with even more determination. "Show me how to kill him."

Chapter 12

Sometimes things are so grim that the only sane response is to laugh, long and hard. And get very drunk. And when faced with insurmountable odds, what do you do? You go dancing, of course. Paint your face and don your best finery. Thumb your nose at cruel fortune and blissfully ignore the tidal wave bearing down on you. If it's going to get you anyway, at least you should have a smile on your face when it hits.

Spike sidestepped neatly as Buffy came at him again with the wooden spoon. Grabbing her hand, he twirled her around and pulled her hard against him. "Have to do better than that," he said and loosened his hold so that she could wriggle free. "Angelus is, ow!" Spike staggered backwards clutching at his chest, a look of shock on his face. He looked down at the hands covering his heart and then back at Buffy. "You've killed me."

Buffy transferred her makeshift stake to her left hand and bounced up and down lightly on her toes. "Well it's about time," she said. "I thought I was never going to master this."

"I can't believe you just did that," Spike said with a grin. He gave his chest one last rub then straightened up. "Think you've found your calling, love."

"I think I have," she said. "Why aren't girls allowed to do this sort of thing in the real world? Much more useful than sewing and crochet."

"Which I'm betting you were useless at."

"No, actually I was very good at it, but that didn't mean I enjoyed it. Come at me again, Spike."

Spike took a large swig of his wine then circled round. She'd caught him off guard that time and there was no way she was doing it again. "You just got lucky, Buffy. Angelus is fast."

"And I am determined," she replied holding up the spoon, handle forward, and circling with him.

This time he had her down on the carpet because it was much more fun that way. Then he couldn't resist kissing her and, she got him again.

"You're cheating," he complained.

"There are rules, now? I don't think so."

"You're distracting me with your womanly charms."

"Good." She smiled sweetly and took a drink from her wineglass. "Stop teasing me, Spike and tell me how I'm doing. Then I want you to teach me how to fight."

'I think I'd prefer that game,' his demon grumbled. 'She makes me nervous with that thing.'

'You're not serious,' Spike told it. 'Can't you see I'm letting her win?'

'Really?' the demon observed. 'She's had us twice already, if that had been a stake…'

'I'd have had it off her the first time,' Spike told it firmly. 'I'm just trying to encourage her, that's all.'

"Spike?" Her voice sounded a little slurred and the spoon fell to the floor. "Oops," she said and then giggled. "Your face, Spike, when I staked you, was so funny." She motioned him towards her. "Come on, teach me to fight. Attack me."

"If you say so." It was ridiculously easy and he could have done it with one hand tied behind his back and probably no hands at all. "So," he said trying not to squash her as she lay beneath him. "What now?"

"This." She closed her eyes and offered him her lips. Spike dipped towards them then doubled up as her knee made contact with his groin.

"Bloody hell woman," he roared as he rolled off her. "What are you trying to do to me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Spikey." She sounded like a little girl and she didn't look sorry at all. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he said grimacing and clutching at the front of his trousers. "I really enjoy being kicked in the balls."

"But you said that was a man's most vulnerable spot." Buffy pushed herself up and leaned on one elbow. "And I need to learn what to do. Give me my wine," she ordered and waved her hand imperiously at him.

Spike handed her the glass and watched, impressed, as she downed it. "You're going to have a monster of a hangover tomorrow," he warned her.

"Good," she said. "And I wish my father were here to see me now. Do you know, he is the most pompous, self-righteous man you'd ever be unfortunate enough to meet."

Spike dropped down beside her and ran his finger experimentally along her arm, loving the way the small hairs responded to his touch. Loving everything about her. Her courage in the face of insurmountable odds was nothing short of outstanding. They were safe for possibly a few more days, but if he knew Dru, she'd soon be having visions of dark, old houses in the country and even if she hadn't been psychic that part of it wouldn't have been hard to guess, with him being a vampire, and all.

She turned to him and gave him what he could only describe as a seductive smile. Slow and secretive with just a hint of promise. But then she only had to look at him and he was seduced. Well and truly her grateful slave.

"Do you know," she continued. "Once one of my father's sermons went on so long that someone actually died during it."

Spike exploded.

Buffy stared at him wide-eyed. "It was a terrible tragedy."

"That's why it's so funny," he said gasping for air, because he needed air to laugh.

"There were rumours that he died of boredom," she said and then giggled. And that turned into laughter which she then seemed unable to stop.

It was hysteria, but it provided a much needed release of tension. Spike laughed with her and eventually they both forgot what they were actually laughing at and just laughed because they needed to.

"Tell me what this Angelus fellow is like," she said regaining control at last.

"A bastard," Spike said simply.

Buffy exploded again.

"And he's got this hair." Spike gestured the shape of Angelus' hair. "Thinks he's god's gift."

Buffy clutched at her sides. "Will he mind if I laugh at his hair?"

"You won't be laughing love. Not if you ever get to meet him."

They both sobered at that thought. Spike felt sorry that he'd broken the mood, but they couldn't deny what was happening forever. Tonight however, there was nothing to be done, and he was feeling strangely defiant and entirely reckless.Sod Angelus, he thought.And the whole lot of them.

"Bugger this, Buffy." He sat up and pulled her up after him. "Let's go dancing."

"Dancing? Do you think that's a good idea?" She looked at him through half closed eyes and with her rosy cheeks and wild hair tumbling carelessly over her face she looked so delectable that he immediately changed his mind.

"Possibly the most stupid idea I've ever had," he said. "And I've had some. Never mind dancing, let's do this instead."

The most beautiful and inviting lips that he'd ever seen were just too tempting to resist. So he kissed them. A light touch of his mouth on hers. Teasing and enquiring. Asking permission to go on. His tongue stroking persuasively until she opened for him.

"You taste deliciously sweet," he said pushing away her hair. And tender and gentle turned into hungry and searching as he demanded that she respond. His hands he kept to himself because he loved kissing her without distractions. Loved concentrating on one sensation at a time, when he had the patience to. Her lips were plump and moist and warm. Each rhythmic caress sending currents of desire coursing through him.

Easing back he outlined her mouth carefully with his tongue, tracing its shape and then he sat back on his heels and surveyed his work. There was a dreamy intensity in the way she looked back at him. A deceptive innocence mixed with an irresistible sensuality that captured him and held him in place. A languid smile on her well-kissed lips. A blush creeping over her skin, telling him that she was hot, for him. And the heady, sinful smell of her arousal.

"Take your dress off," he said in a voice pitched low, all thoughts of Angelus and the impending doom fleeing from his mind. "I want to kiss you everywhere."

---------------------------------------------------------

They were late tonight. The man with the sand-coloured hair squinted at his pocket watch and read the time. With shaking hands, he took out the pile of crumpled squares of paper from his pocket and smoothed them flat against his thigh. He tried not to read the words, didn't have to anymore, because he knew them by heart.

Petite and blonde. Answers to the name of Buffy. Family beside themselves with worry.

Faint laughter floated through the doors which were thrown open by the uniformed doorman. The young man straightened his tie and smoothed back his hair, waiting for the crowds to exit.

"Still haven't found her?" the doorman asked sympathetically.

The young man put on a face much braver than he felt. "No luck yet."

The doorman beckoned him over and pointed to the papers. "Give me one of those then. I'll take it down the pub with me, might as well try all possibilities."

"Thank you," the young man said. "But my sister is very religious, she wouldn't be seen near a public house."

"Well, you never know." The doorman folded the paper and put it into his pocket then he turned his attention to the theatre goers who were now streaming out in droves. Some walking to the nearby eating establishments, others getting into the line of waiting carriages and hansom cabs.

The young man rushed forward and attended to his task, pressing papers into hands, listening intently. Everyone, it seemed, knew a young, blonde-haired girl. Or had seen one recently, but they couldn't quite remember where. Hope alternately rose and faded as he realised that nobody really knew anything and this evening had probably been just as much a waste of time as all the others.

"Pretty little thing. Did you love her?"

The young man offered her a paper. "She's my sister, and yes, we love her. Read this and please, if you've any information…"

The dark-haired beauty held out a gloved hand and took the paper. "All shiny and golden," she said wafting it in front of her making it flutter back and forth. "You want her, don't you?"

"We want her back, yes," he said. "We're all frantic with worry, if you know anything then please, I beg you, tell me."

"I'll find her for you," the woman said enigmatically. "Can't see her yet, too many clouds in the way. But I will, only a matter of time. He won't let you have her back though."

"Who?" The man gave chase as the woman turned and hurried away. "Who won't?"

"Why, Sweet Willy of course."

"Wait," he called out after her. For a moment he lost her in the crowd then he spotted her being helped into a carriage by a tall dark-haired man. She was laughing, and the man was smiling as he scanned the paper that she handed to him. The young man took a step forward as the taller man turned and stared at him.

The cold smile, the intensity of his gaze, something about him stopped the young man dead in his tracks. The taller man waved the paper at him, mouthing something he couldn't hear and the young man nodded a brief acknowledgment and quickly turned away, an unexpected feeling of dread settling on his heart.

As he pushed his way through the crowd he heard laughter, but it wasn't coming from the people all around him. It seemed to come from very far away. A half remembered dream, or a nightmare? He couldn't tell. And then the softer, more familiar sound of his sister's voice telling him that she never wanted to see him again unless it was in hell, where they both deserved to be.

Slipping into a nearby alleyway he slid down the wall on shaky legs and dropped his head into his hands. It was a nightmare, he decided, no less than he deserved. And Buffy had been right, hell did have a special place reserved for him. What he'd tried to do was an unforgivable sin and he welcomed the torment because god help him, he still wanted her.

Wearily he rose and stuffed the remaining papers back into his pocket. A temptation he couldn't resist, so better that she stay lost, he thought. Better for all of them. The overhanging sign of a nearby public house flapped and banged in the breeze and he decided to heed its call. Oblivion was what he needed. From these dark tormenting thoughts that wouldn't leave him be, and from the unbearable visions of his golden haired, fallen angel.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Buffy leaned back into the stack of velvet cushions, her robe open, hair cascading over one shoulder and barely covering her breasts, one leg bent, the other straight.

"No, sorry, it's all wrong." Spike put down his sketch pad and hitched a knee up onto the bed. "You look altogether far too innocent," he said pushing back the robe and exposing her thighs. "You never would have made a convincing harlot."

Buffy pouted her lips and blew him a kiss. "Isn't that what attracted you to me in the first place?" she said slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her.

"It was your innocence, love." He rearranged her hair and stared at her for a few moments. "Have you ever painted your face?"

"No," she said. "Not with a Bishop for a father. He'd never have allowed it. They would have had to rename me Jezebel."

"Stay there then."

Buffy sighed and admired Spike's retreating back as he left the room. The beginnings of a headache was drumming lightly at her temples but Spike seemed completely unaffected, which was fortunate, she thought with a giggle since he was the one required to perform. Not that he ever had problems in that area, alcohol or no alcohol.

And he was wrong about her. There was another Buffy that no one but him had seen. A Buffy who was capable of feeling things that she'd never dreamed of and who'd come so far since she'd met him as to be unrecognisable. Her hands slipped over her thighs as she thought about the last few hours and all the things they'd done. Sweeping them upwards and inwards she found the place that he loved so much and pressed down. Spike had taught her a lot of things, but she wasn't nearly as innocent as he imagined she was. Her brother had taught her things too. But this she'd learned all on her own.

Heat radiated through her as she continued with her slow massage, letting her legs fall open as her fingers pressed deeper. She wasn't sure if she had the energy to come again until she opened her eyes and saw Spike standing in the doorway watching her with clouded eyes, lips slightly parted. A lit cigarette dangled from the fingers of one hand and slowly and deliberately he brought it to his mouth and took a long drag.

She loved it when he smoked. Dirty habit though it undoubtedly was, Spike smoked the way he did everything else, with an easy sensuality. He wrapped his lips around it and hollowed his cheekbones as he sucked on the end then blew out a stream of smoke that drifted across the room in grey, wispy curls. Her fingers were circling now, the circle getting smaller and smaller as she concentrated everything down to sensation and he leaned lazily against the door and watched until her breath was coming in short shallow gasps and she tipped herself into a pleasurable free-fall that left her drained of all will.

She didn't even realise he'd crossed the room until she felt the bed dip and his hand on her face.

"Love watching you come." Desire gave his voice an edge that she only ever heard when they were like this and she rubbed her face against his caressing hand.

"Love watching you smoke," she told him. "Don't know why it's so sexual, it just is."

Spike laughed, deep in his throat. "It's because when you're watching me, you're really imagining something else."

Buffy frowned. "What? Oh…" It dawned on her exactly what he was referring to and to show him she'd guessed she let her hand fall lightly on the front of his trousers. "You're a wicked man, Spike and I'm not nearly as innocent as you seem to think I am."

"Not any more, love. I'll give you that." His hand covered hers and kept it in place while she squeezed and ran a finger idly over the hard length of him. "Would you like me to?" she asked.

"Like you to what, love?"

"You know." Buffy attempted to open one of his buttons, but he stopped her.

"Say it," he ordered his eyes twinkling with mischief.

And that was when he was at his most devastating. Boyish charm and hard man garnished with that gently teasing smile of his brought her to her knees every time and reminded her of just why she loved him.

"What are we doing, Spike?" she asked him. Ignoring his command because, sophisticated as she now thought herself it still embarrassed her to speak those naughty words of love that he was so fond of.

"Oral pleasuring, love. Want me to do you instead?

"No, not this," she said. "This."

He acknowledged her sweeping hand gesture with a nod of understanding. "Its called fiddling while Rome burns. Making hay while the sun shines. Sticking your tongue out at cruel fate."

"But shouldn't we be leaving?"

"He won't come tonight, Buffy. Whatever Angelus is doing, he's already doing it. Likes to get an early start as soon as the sun goes down. I know him well."

Only two of his trouser buttons were closed, but when she moved to open them he stopped her. "Let me do this first," he said. "Want to see you painted up, just lie still and enjoy it."

Using his smallest finger he dipped it into the pot of rouge and carefully and methodically he outlined first her lips, then found the contours of her cheek and rubbed it in with light circular movements. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of it. Surrendering herself for him to transform. Alternately she felt his finger feathering over her eyelids then something that felt like a brush outlining them. And when she tried to open her eyes he stopped her and told her to stay like that until he'd finished and then she could look at herself.

Even if we think we know ourselves, sometime it's up to others to make us see our potential. Buffy leaned back against Spike's bare chest and saw herself as if for the first time. Certainly the person who stared back at her from the large gilt mirror didn't look anything like the child who'd run away from home. And it wasn't just the makeup that had transformed her.

Instead of a scared young girl she saw a brave young woman. Instead of someone who ran away in the face of adversity she saw someone who would stand and fight. And instead of a child who thought she would never know love, she saw a woman who couldn't be more loved.

And Spike alternated in equal parts between childish glee at his handiwork and pure wolf about to devour her whole. "What do you think?" he asked her and then he nuzzled her neck and growled.

Buffy squirmed under his attentions, thinking how strange it always looked that he didn't make a reflection then turned her head from side to side. "Is it me Spike?"

"Of course it's you, love. Don't you know what you've got inside? Isn't it bloody obvious?"

"It never has been before," she said, and wondered what it really was that had effected the change. Then she realised with perfect clarity that it was Spike. Just looking at him made her heart glow with happiness. And the thought of Angelus hurting him made her want to spit like a mother cat who's kitten's are threatened.

But it was being with him like this, her robe open, his arms draped casually over her shoulders, hands cupping her breasts that made her feel the most powerful of all. The confidence that this gave her surpassed everything.

"I'm not afraid anymore." The revelation took her by surprise, even though it was her saying it, but not Spike.

"I know," he said, his voice laced with pride. "Want to wear some jewellery?"

"I suppose I should if we're going dancing."

Spike looked surprised for a moment then his face lit up with a knowing grin. "There's a box in the bottom drawer."

Buffy didn't ask where it came from, instead she sat still as he clipped earrings to her ears and fastened a pearl necklace around her neck. "Pearls are for tears," she said lightly fingering the smooth strands.

"No they're not," he said firmly. "Pass me that hairbrush."

Buffy handed him the ornate silver-backed brush and he went to work taming her hair. Efficiently at first and then, when all the tangles had been dealt with he slowed down and took some time to simply caress her hair with the brush. Long, deep strokes that had her purring under his hand. Then he handed her a tortoise-shell comb.

"Here, twist it up into one of those knots, I like you with your hair up."

It wouldn't stay up properly because there weren't enough pins, but she managed the semblance of a hairstyle. "Find me some clothes, Spike then we'll get you ready."

He liked her in a corset too, so she wore it, for him sucking in her waist as he laced it tight. The knee high stockings nearly caused another bout of love-making as his roving hands did more than put them on her, but she managed to resist. Black shoes, and a sleeveless silk evening dress with a shockingly plunging décolletage completed her ensemble.

Then she turned her attention to him.

-----------------------------------------------------

The young man downed his whiskey and banged his fist on the bar. "Another one here, if you please," he slurred out. "And one for," he peered closely at the woman standing beside him. "The lady." He bowed deeply staggered sideways and would have fallen clean over if the lady in question hadn't caught him.

"What's yer name then?" she said as she propped him back at the bar, her hands over-familiar and letting him know exactly what kind of lady she was.

"Warren," he replied and slumped forward as a wave of nausea overtook him. "Warren Summers at your service."

"Oh, I do 'ope so," the woman said as she ran her hands over the front of his trousers. "Why don't you come outside and show me just what you got in there, eh? Only cost you sixpence."

Warren looked her up and down and shrugged. "I've spent all my money," he said and for emphasis he pulled out the lining of his trouser pocket. "Not a penny left save what I just gave for the drinks."

"Well, that's a shame, isn't it? I'll 'ave a gin," she said genially. "And then maybe I'm feeling generous-like." She leaned close and whispered in his ear. "Maybe I'll let an 'ansome lad like you 'ave one for free."

Warren gave her an unsteady grin as she made another pass at him and he grabbed her hand and held it in place. "I wish all women were as generous as you," he said and had a good look down her cleavage for good measure. "A man needs his comforts and women can be so mean."

"There, there, pet." She patted his hand. "Margaret'll see yer alright. Get that drink down ye and come outside with me."

"It's the hair, isn't it?" He tried to point to it, but couldn't quite remember where it was. On the head, he thought so he pointed vaguely in that direction. "Women like the hair, you see."

"Ye got lovely hair." Margaret picked up his drink and held it to his lips, carelessly spilling it as she poured it down his throat. "Yer just not appreciated, my pet. Come on."

He watched her down her gin in one draft then he was being pulled from the pub, staggering behind the surprisingly strong Margaret who hauled him out into an alleyway and then insisted that they couldn't do it there and he had to follow her to a more private place.

Suited him, he thought. She was a fine figure of a woman and he swaggered a little at the thought that he was so handsome that she was going to allow him her pleasures free of charge.

It was his last coherent thought that end of the evening and he was so drunk the blow didn't even hurt. The cobbles lurched towards him and he hit them with a soft groan and then there was nothing.

Margaret straightened and looked at her companion. "Almost feel sorry for the lad. Give us me money then."

The man ignored her and instead turned the body over with the toe of his boot and narrowed his eyes. The woman opened her mouth to complain once more that she wanted her money, but the only sound that came out was a strangled scream of horror as she looked into the face of her own death. The tall, dark haired man finally let her limp body drop to the floor and wiped her blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thank you, Margaret, that's a fine job you did, but I don't think I'll be needing you any more," He said in an emotionless voice.

Angelus looked down at her for a moment then he bent and swung Warren's unconscious body over his shoulder. "You, on the other hand, me lad, are going to come in very useful, indeed."

--------------------------------------------------

Spike stood still and just enjoyed her nearness as Buffy slid the tie around his neck. He'd told her not to wear perfume because he liked smelling her without any distractions. And he loved her like this, after they'd made love and she'd come so many times that her scent nearly overwhelmed him. There was something almost feral about the way it made him feel. A wildness that didn't just come from him having a demon inside him, although that undoubtedly helped.

This was something different that went beyond the need to have and to protect and to defend. He didn't just want to possess her, sometimes he wanted to devour her and just get so close that he became part of her. The best way he could show her that was when he was deep inside her and he thanked the heavens that she was more than happy to accommodate his voracious sexual appetite. The thought made him laugh.

She tipped her head enquiringly as she tied the knot.

"Just thinking that it's a good job that you're as rabid as I am when it comes to sex. I have to run to catch up with you sometimes."

"You so do not," she said lifting her chin. "I'll have you know that sometimes I'm quite sore at the end of the night."

"Oh heck," he caught her hands and held them still. "Am I too rough with you?"

"No, Spike of course you're not, and wasn't I to tell you if you were? You leave me aching for more, how does that sound?"

"Sounds like I'm hurting you," he said and stood still once more while she resumed her task. "I don't want to hurt you, love."

"And you don't," she told him, "here." She offered him his jacket and he slipped it on. "Now, let's get your collar straight and then I'll do your hair. Sit down. It was just a throwaway line really, in response to what you said to me. You didn't expect me not to respond, did you?"

"Just as long as you're alright with it all."

"It's perfect," she reassured him. "Think of it as the inevitable consequence of being well-loved. The way we go at it, well, things are bound to get a little sore."

"I am hurting you…"

"Spike!"

Being threatened with a hairbrush was a first, but he wisely backed down. For all their closeness there were still things about her he didn't understand. She said things and then she said she didn't mean them. And then she said that possibly she did. He'd never fully comprehend women, he decided. They were very endearing, but completely illogical sometimes. Perhaps he'd become too used to the black and white world of hunt and kill, see and take and had simply forgotten what it was like to live in a world where people had to think of things other than just pleasing themselves.

Her hands felt wonderful in his hair and he groaned with pleasure as her fingers worked in the oil. "Cut it for me tomorrow," he said. "It's getting far too long."

"I like it like this," she replied and slicked it back from his face. Her expression was still one of amusement at their earlier conversation. She knew him too well. Knew that he worried over every little thing she said and sometimes the little minx would let him stew for days before explaining things to him.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "And I do not."

"You certainly do," he said. "You sulked for days when I said I didn't like your soup."

"Well, revolting was hardly the compliment I was looking for."

"But it was, I was simply stating a fact."

"There's this little thing called tact, Spike." Bending her head she kissed him just below the ear to show that they could have minor disagreements and she'd still love him.

"You wouldn't be so cheeky if you were my wife," he grumbled. "You'd have to show me some respect then."

"Is that a sulky bottom lip I can see sticking out there," she said leaning her chin on his shoulder "I do believe it is, Spike."

"You're asking for it woman," he warned her almost unable to keep the grin from breaking out on his face. This was more like it, he thought. Because he really didn't like it when they had anything approaching a disagreement. "One more comment like that madam."

"And what?" she said and then she stuck out her tongue and whispered in his ear. "Count to a hundred and then come find me." And with that she turned and ran out of the room.

'What are you waiting for?' his demon said. 'Go after her.'

'I have to count to a hundred,' he told it and diligently started counting.

'Excuse me, vampire,' the demon reminded him.

'Oh yes,' Spike said with an evil smile. 'You know sometimes I genuinely forget.'

'Well, let me remind you that you are and that we're going to require feeding at some time. Now go find her, she hasn't gone far.'

Spike allowed himself another evil grin before rising and creeping to the door. She was still out there, deciding where to hide. Alex had cleared out the cellar of the things she didn't need to see so that was now safe, but she never went down there. If he knew her she'd make straight for the attics.

'May I?' his demon enquired.

'Be my guest,' Spike said and with a flick of his head he changed.

Now he could hear her blood as it pulsed around her body. Her heartbeat as it fluttered with excitement and every breath that she took. Even at this distance her scent was overpowering and he had it locked down so well that he knew that he'd find her anywhere she went. The thought reassured him as he crept out of the door after her.

Holding back the demon was difficult. All it wanted to do was rush after her and jump her. Make her scream and then have sex with her.

'All you ever think about,' Spike said and peered round the corner. Buffy was, rather predictably opening the attic door and then she looked around. Spike flattened himself against the wall.

'And you don't?'

'Well of course I do,' Spike said. 'But you heard her, human remember? We have to be careful with her.'

'She loves it.'

Spike opened the attic door and listened. Buffy was in one of the rooms above and he closed his eyes to concentrate on exactly where. 'She said she was sore.'

'Aching for more was what I heard.'

'She's delicate.' Spike started up the stairs.

The demon snorted. 'You are undoubtedly the biggest twit that I have ever had the misfortune to encounter, William. That girl is as delicate as I am. Made of steel more like.'

'I was talking figuratively. Which way did she go?'

'First room on the left, she's in the cupboard under the eaves. And what's that supposed to mean? Figuratively? I swear that one day you are going to disappear up your own backside.'

'Stop distracting me,' Spike told it. 'I don't want to scare her too much.'

'Excuse me while I indulge in another evil grin.'

'No,' Spike said. 'Not now, not with him looming on the horizon.'

'Angelus?' The demon stopped grinning. 'We need to leave.'

'I know, but I hate the thought of dragging her around like a fugitive. Women want home comforts and I'm supposed to be providing all that. What kind of life will we have on the run from Angelus?' Still in demon face and halfway up the stairs, Spike leaned his head back against the wall. 'But even if I was strong enough to let her go to live a normal life, one of them will find her. Angelus, her brother. She's tied to us for life now.'

'She didn't pick it up, did she?'

'What?' Spike remembered that they were supposed to be dancing and all of a sudden it seemed really important to be doing that with her.

'Your marriage proposal.'

'No, she didn't. Anyway, it was just as she said, a throwaway line. Vampires don't marry and she's probably not expecting it anyway.'

'Like she wasn't expecting a baby? Let me ask her.'

'What did you say?'

'Stay like this and ask her, maybe not to marry you, and I know you won't let me turn her, but make a formal commitment and ask her to do the same. Give her something else to fight for.'

'We'd already die for each other. What else do we need?'

'I'm not doubting us, do it for her. She thinks she'd be prepared to die defending you, but at the last moment she'll hesitate because she's only human. Give her the edge that she needs to survive. Make a bond with her that she'll want to defend to her dying breath and couch it in ritual if it makes her happier. Give her a ring, do something concrete because if you don't she's going to die.'

The truth of it hit him hard. Spike closed his eyes but all he could see was Buffy lying cold and broken while Angelus smiled that hellish, satisfied smile of his.

'Turn her,' the demon said quietly. 'Then as least Angelus won't be able to, even if he does kill her. At least if she's a vampire she'll be strong.'

'But she might not love me any more.'

'Well, that's irony for you, my boy.'

A sound made Spike turn and when he looked up Buffy was standing at the top of the stairs, watching him.

"I thought you'd forgotten me," she said. "Thought you weren't coming for me."

Spike stayed in demon face and reached out his hand. She descended the stairs, gracefully holding up her skirts, a smile of what he thought might be relief on her lips. Her eyes holding just a hint of anxiety. Whether it was fear of the demon or that she'd picked up on his concern, he couldn't tell. When she was near enough he grasped her hand in his and pulled her hard against him.

"I will always come for you," he said. "Do you believe it?"

"I believe you'll always try your best."

He shook his head. "Not good enough, you've got to believe it, with no doubt at all."

For a few moments she just stared at him then she raised her hand and touched his distorted cheek. "I'm never going to win at hide and seek if you insist on cheating, you know."

The demon growled softly, waiting for her answer, but not expecting the kiss. Spike had kissed her when he was like this, but she'd never initiated it. And it had always been hard and frantic. It turned to hide, but Spike held on to it. Keeping his lips together because he didn't want to hurt her with his fangs he kissed her back, and the feeling of confusion and panic melted away.

"You've got to believe it with everything you have," he told her and held her in his gaze. "Everything, Buffy."

She was made of steel, her spirit if not her body. But the demon was right. They did need to formalise it in both demon and human terms, for her if not for him.

"I was going to ask you to marry me."

Her response told him everything he needed to know and confirmed everything the demon had said. She'd heard the words marry me and her eyes had lit up like beacons. Then the hope had faded as what he'd actually said filtered through. It would never have been mentioned, but of course she'd want to be married, just like she'd wanted children.

"I would if I could," he continued. "Just like I'd love to have children with you, nothing would make me happier, Buffy. And neither of us want you to be a vampire, but let's do something."

"You didn't have to stay like this to ask me," she said reaching her arms around his neck and holding him close. "I know what you are, and I'm happy with it. And you gave me this." She took his hand and made him uncover the scar on her neck. "This binds me to you, doesn't it?"

The scab was soft and pink and too inviting. "Yes," he said and covered it up again. "But I don't have anything."

"I don't think I can bite you again, that's not what you want, is it?"

"No, you don't have to do that, but give me a scar, something I can look at and feel. Something to make me remember what this is all about."

She stepped back, but he caught her again. "Do this for me, I need you to."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, look let's do it now. Then I'm going to dance with you and then I'm going to make love to you. And then," he stopped for a moment to see if she was listening because she still looked as if she wanted to run away at the prospect of what he'd asked her to do. "Then you can start packing your things. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like you love me very much, Spike."

"Keep believing it," he said "Come on, time is something we don't have. Let's do it now."

Can I Keep You?

by candyknicks

Just a warning that the first scene is the blood-bonding and involves knives and blood. If you don't like that sort of thing then skip the first part. Also the fic does get darker at this point as it was always going to. Faith may be required, but I won't let you down with the ending LOL.

Chapter 13

“It has to be blood, Buffy.”

The knife felt all wrong as Spike pressed it into her hand and guided it against the bare skin of his forearm. “Why can’t I just give you a ring,” she said, her fingers barely gripping it. “Do I have to do this?”

“It’s always blood, Buffy. It’s what we do. It won’t hurt so much if I stay like this. Do it.”

“So much?” She looked up at him. “You said it wouldn’t hurt you.”

Spike’s features dissolved and rearranged themselves back into his human face and Buffy threw the knife onto the table. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Her hand was shaking, the trembling running through her body until her knees were threatening to give way. It was one thing playing at killing vampires and imagining that you had what it took to thrust a stake though someone’s heart, but actually doing it? But if she couldn’t do this, how would she ever hope to kill Angelus?

Spike caught her. “Come on, love.” Grabbing her around the waist he hoisted her up onto the kitchen table and nudged her knees apart. “You’re made of sterner stuff than this, Buffy, look at me.”

She felt him, pressing between her legs as he moved against her and she pulled him even closer, so that there was no space between then. He held her with one arm and with the other he reached for the knife.

“Here.”

She tried to keep him, but he moved back. Loosening her hand from his shirt and folding it around the bone handle.

“Want me to help you?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice unsteady, her hand shaking. But strangely enough, her resolve stiffening under the assault of his gentle persuasion. It was a time to be tested and a time to be strong. A time to show how much she loved him. Lifting the blade she guided it not to his skin, but to her own. His eyes lit up first with surprise, then with understanding, but he shook his head.

“No, love.” His hand covered hers. “Don't want you to get blood poisoning again.”

“You do it then.” She offered him her arm. "Mark me where I can see it”

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and pushed her wrist against his mouth, feeling him change as his lips hovered over her pulse.

"Not there," he said and turned her arm over. "Don't want it to bleed too much."

Buffy swallowed, then gave a sharp cry as Spike bit down hard, without warning, letting his teeth sink deep into her skin. He didn't drink, but held her in place for a few moments, one hand holding the back of her neck the other clamped securely around her upper arm, shaking his head and growling softly until he was satisfied that he'd marked her. It was more painful than any other bite he'd given her and she was trembling and dizzy as he withdrew.

“It’s alright,” he said holding her upright, because her strength seemed to have suddenly deserted her in a rush. “Brave girl, let me stop the bleeding.”

His mouth covered the wound once more and this time she felt him alternately sucking and licking at it, making it sting as he worked. Resolutely, she endured it because she'd asked him to do it and because she knew he wouldn't stop until he was sure it was clean.

“My turn now,” he said and picked up the knife.

Another wave of nausea washed over her as the combined effects of all the alcohol she’d drunk earlier and the sight of her blood turned her stomach over once more. She took a deep breath and reached out for it. Her cut hadn’t properly stopped bleeding and as she lifted her arm thin streams of blood trickled across her skin and splashed onto the silk of her dress. Spike held her firmly as he helped her push the blade into his arm.

“Down to the bone, love,” he told her showing no sign that it was hurting. “Won’t scar unless you do that.”

She wanted to close her eyes, but somehow it felt important that she witness this, gruesome as it was. The blade disappeared into his skin and a surprising amount of blood oozed out around it. He helped her to make a slashing action, and then he loosened his grip

This time she didn’t drop the knife because she was holding it so tightly she couldn’t let go. Spike gently uncurled her fingers and took it from her ignoring the blood that was now flowing freely from his wound. Still in demon face he moved towards her bite once more, but this time she stopped him.

“Let me go first,” she said lowering her head to his cut then raising her eyes in question. He bit his lip and nodded making her suddenly feel as equal to him as she could get without asking him to turn her. There was respect in his yellow eyes, as well as love as she touched her lips to his slick flesh and tasted him. He did the same to her until both their mouths were covered with blood and then she kissed him so that they could share each other’s life force. When they parted she was breathless and light-headed.

“Did I do it right?” she asked him.

“I love you,” he said simply.

Human and demon blended so perfectly at that moment that she could see them both, even though he was now back in his normal face. “I love you too, and always will,” she said, just as simply because that’s all they needed. The plain, humble truth of it.

“Wait,” she said as he made to help her down from the table, muttering about getting her a bandage for her arm. “I want to do this too.” Taking his arm she pressed the cuts together. “I’m yours and you’re mine, now you say it.”

“Always yours and always mine,” he said quietly and kissed her again. “Do you feel stronger now?”

For a moment she rested her head against his chest and when she lifted it she even managed a weak smile for him. “I do,” she said, knowing it was the truth, even if her body protested otherwise. “And no priest could have joined us better than this, could they?”

“No, they couldn’t.” He touched her wound lightly, frowning as she flinched.
“Tell me where to find something to bind it,” he asked her. “Don’t want you weak from loss of blood now.”

“In the drawer.” She pointed to the linen drawer set in the large Welsh dresser that lined one side of the kitchen. “There are some clean tablecloths, tear one of those.”

Buffy sucked at her arm as he crossed the kitchen and searched the drawer. The sharp rip as he tore the material sounded very loud in the subdued atmosphere. It was a quiet house by nature and not just because only the two of them, and sometimes Alex, lived there. She’d never decided whether it could be described as peaceful or dead and sometimes the air seemed so thick that even time struggled to pass.

Spike took a few more moments to clean her wound then he tied it securely with the makeshift bandage. She sat quietly holding out her arm for him as he worked, acknowledging his smile of encouragement with one of her own. And when she asked if she could bandage his he refused.

“Need to leave it open love, otherwise it will heal too fast and I want it to scar.”

“Alright,” she said and hopped down from the table. He caught her as she swayed on rubbery legs, but she refused to let him pick her up. “You promised me dancing,” she said holding out her hand. “We’re all dressed up, with nowhere to go. Dance with me.”

The room was lit by a single oil lamp that sat on the range making an oasis of light into which they stepped. Shadows flickered and the dark night closed in with all its threats and secrets and Buffy’s heart ached with a pain that she’d never felt before. Holding something precious in your hands and realising its worth, is truly frightening. Because if you lose it, how do you go on?

“I’m sorry I had to hurt you,” Spike said gathering her close.

“It’s done now,” she said and rested her head onto his chest, while his arms circled her back. “Why can’t the world leave us alone?” she asked him.

“Got to pay for my sins, love.” His tone was emotionless as if he’d always known what the inevitable conclusion to his existence as a vampire would be. “God’s idea of a joke.”

“No, Spike. Don’t just accept this. I don’t think God works like that. Angelus sounds like evil personified, and how can that be your fault? We’re just conveniently in his sights.”

“We’ll go tomorrow,” he said. “Take the carriage to Southampton and book passage on a steamer to America.”

“What about Victoria and Albert?” Buffy looked up at him, knowing it was stupid to worry about goats when their own existence was being threatened. “I know,” she said in response to his raised eyebrows. “They’re only goats, and there are more important things to think about. But they symbolise everything we were trying to do here.”

Spike put his hand on the back of her head and she laid her cheek against his bloodstained shirt. Together they swayed to imaginary music in a place where, for now, only the two of them existed. He marked her with his darkness and she marked him with her light. It was an irresistible pull. She couldn’t say exactly what drew her to him. It wasn’t just the physical because she’d seen him with his grotesque demon mask and still she was here. Was it just because he loved her? She didn’t think so because she thought that perhaps, she’d made this decision independently of that. You could love something well enough without it being returned, although finding it was mutual was undoubtedly a blessing.

Why did she feel that here was someone who she’d be prepared to lay down her life for, and do it gladly?

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, about the goats, about everything, Buffy. I’ve been living a dream. Reaching out for lost things I thought I could regain... Playing a game that I was normal again. It’s never going to happen love. Never.”

And then she understood. The fact that he wanted to do this and that he’d tried to fight against his hideous destiny. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t, or perhaps that he’d never succeed. It only mattered that he’d tried.

In her, he’d seen a reason to change, and in him she’d seen her future.

“How many people have you killed, Spike?”

Somewhere outside an owl screeched, a portent of imminent death, and when Buffy shivered at the eerie sound he cuddled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “At least one a night for the last ten years. Work it out.”

“I don’t have to,” she said. “How many since you met me?”

“The sailor.” There was a pause. “Some may have died, but I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t you kill them any more?”

“Because you wouldn’t like it.”

“But surely you must know it’s wrong?”

“Well of course, but I’m an evil vampire. It’s what we do.”

“You’ve done evil things, Spike. But I don’t believe you’re evil. You wouldn’t love me like this if you were evil.”

“Perhaps that’s true,” he said. “Don’t go thinking I’m redeemed, Buffy. I’m only doing this for you, you’re all I care about.”

“But that must count a little towards redemption. None of us are perfect, we just do what we can. Does it matter that the reasons are selfish? And if it’s love that motivates you to change, then how can that be wrong?”

“Loves a powerful thing, I’ll give you that,” he agreed, “and in the natural order of things, this shouldn’t be happening.”

“But it is, Spike. I pray for you every night, do you know that?”

“I’m flattered you think me worth the trouble, love.”

Sometimes his need for her was so overwhelmingly transparent that he communicated it in the slightest of gestures, the subtlest shifts of tone. Sometimes it was the merest change in the energy that bound them together that told her to hold him closer and pray harder that something might be salvaged from the mess that was his existence.

He hadn’t asked to be a vampire and there still seemed to be something fundamentally human left in him that fought against his cruel fate. Some embrace their destiny wholeheartedly, others with a quiet acceptance. Some fight against it no matter what the odds. Some need a reason and some don’t. She was his reason and that was her fate. And now she understood why.

“I’d like us to be together always,” she said. “That’s why I pray.”

“Then keep praying love, because eternity’s a bloody long time and miracles are rare. Are you alright?”

“I think so,” she told him. “Too much wine and then all the blood.” The stain on his shirt went out of focus as she stared intently at it and when she looked down at herself she was covered with it too. His cut wrist rested lightly at the back of her neck rubbing his blood onto her wherever it touched. It trickled down her back and thin rivulets made tracks over her shoulder and into the cleavage of the dress.

Spike followed her gaze, then bent his head and rubbed his cheek against her throat. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he said and took her hand. “Then you need to rest. Packing can wait until tomorrow.”

Buffy allowed him to lead her. “I’d offer you my place in heaven,” she said. “But I’m not sure I’m going there either.”

“Quite the pair we make, don’t we?” he said stopping at the kitchen door. “Go and get ready, I’ll heat some water.”

“You can have it if you like,” she told him and wondered if she had the energy to climb the stairs. Deciding she didn’t, she went straight to the bathroom which was on the ground floor, sank down into a wicker chair at the side of the cast iron bath and tried to get a grip on her emotions. Right now she was alternating between surges of strength that made her feel she could take on the whole world and great waves of despondency that urged her to just finish it now, before Angelus had the chance to.

She kicked off her shoes and leaned back, closing her eyes and wondering at the irony of it all. She’d gladly join Spike in the afterlife, if she was at all sure that she’d be meeting him there. For that to happen they’d both have to go to heaven and she already knew there was no chance of that. And no use joining him in hell because wouldn’t their personal torment be to spend the rest of time watching each other suffer?

For a few moments she decided to allow herself some peace and shut out all thoughts of the outside world and anything that wasn’t here and now. Through half closed eyes, she watched Spike as he filled the bath with hot water and topped it up from the spring-fed pump. While he did so she murmured another prayer under her breath. Praying for a miracle, for him. Because wasn’t this exactly what miracles were for?

When he’d finished he stripped off his own clothes and stood, gloriously naked before her. Then he was kneeling at her feet as he started on hers.

------------------------------------------------

“You need to go feed, Spike.” Buffy leaned sleepily against him in the pink-tinged water, her bandaged wrist propped on the side of the bath in a vain attempt to keep it dry.

“Not tonight, love, not leaving you alone.”

“Alex can stay with me.”

“He’s a vampire, love. I’ll never trust him entirely.”

“Then I’ll hide somewhere, or you could take me with you.”

“Stop worrying about me,” Spike flattened a hand on her belly and let it slide lower. “I can go for one night without feeding. Worry about this instead.”

He hadn’t wanted to make love to her. No, that wasn’t entirely true, he loved having her when she was all loose and sleepy like this but not tonight. Still mindful that she’d said she was sore, he reined in his own needs and made do with the closeness. Her arm slipped from the side of the bath as he stroked her and he realised that she was falling asleep on him. What kind of woman would trust a vampire in this way? And what kind of vampire would do this? He’d heard of such things happening and even though it had long been a fantasy of his, he’d always dismissed the stories as apocryphal.

One of the most delightful aspects of this whole relationship was the discovery that dreams do come true after all. And that if you wish hard enough, you can almost conjure the impossible out of thin air. Buffy rolled her head and tipped her face for a kiss, reaching back with her arm to pull him down. She murmured something he didn’t catch, but her gentle mouth kissed him with an understanding that made him want to weep and with love that he really didn’t deserve.

‘We nearly killed her,’ his demon said.

It made his insides twist into knots when he contemplated what had nearly happened. But when he thought about it, he wondered if he would ever have done it. Something that he couldn’t explain had happened the night he’d met this woman. It had called to him then, and the pull grew stronger with each hour they spent together.

“I’m hopelessly lost in you,” he whispered to her.

“That’s nice,” she replied in a voice that was barely there. “Will you stay?”

That made him smile as he remembered the verbal sparring during which he’d asked her that question over and over.

“What made you stay?” he said watching wet strands of her hair that had escaped from the knot, float around her in the water.

“You asked me to.” There was laughter in her voice, as if it really had been that simple after all.

“And you needed a place to hide?”

“Mmmm,” she let out a sigh. “But I stayed because I wanted to, and not just because of that.”

“I said you could leave, but I’m not sure I would have let you. Come on, the water’s getting cold.”

Buffy hauled herself upright at his encouragement and he kissed her soundly on each buttock cheek as she rose, wrapping his hands around her waist so that he could hold her in place. She joined in with a giggle and wriggled back against his face as his tongue drew patterns on her skin.

“I wasn’t planning on being inside you again tonight,” he told her. “But I think I need to be.” More kisses, lighter this time, working his way down to the back of her thighs and making them tremble. “May I?” he asked already knowing what her answer was going to be.

With a dreamy look over her shoulder she moved to the end of the bath and folded her arms against the edge. Spike moved so that he was kneeling behind her and grasped her hips and lifted her so that she was in position for him. No words were spoken as he thrust inside her and Buffy dropped her head to her hands and let him make love to her.

There were times when he needed it just like this and she understood that. Simple and uncomplicated and quiet. With a small hint of desperation and as much for comfort as anything. Her telling him without words how much she loved him and him reassuring himself that she still did. He came with his eyes closed and accepted her gift, the demon stepping aside and letting William tell her how grateful they were for it.

“Bite me,” she said and arched her neck. “I can tell how hungry you are.”

“Don’t tempt me, love.” He sat back onto his heels and she fell, with a splash, onto his lap.

When she rubbed her back against his chest her neck was too near for him to resist, but he didn’t want to hurt her, not again.

“No, love. I’ve hurt you enough tonight.” He stood up and lifted her out of the bath, reaching for a towel to wrap her in. Before he could she’d pulled off her bandage and pressed the new bite against his mouth.

“I order you to drink,” she said in an imperious, but slightly slurred voice. “You wouldn’t refuse me, would you?”

“No love,” he replied and took hold of her arm. “How can I when you offer like that?” The skin was torn, but the bite was clean, and all his senses quivered with anticipation as he first kissed her, then gently started to suck. And when he had the good sense to stop it was with agonising regret that he couldn’t turn her there and then. His demon urged him to take a chance, but he knew, with a strength of resolve he hadn’t realised was in him, that he never would.

When she was curled up beside him in bed he watched her sleeping and wondered how many times they would be allowed to cheat death. She’d done it twice and he had once. Between them they should have used up their allotted chances, but here they were about to try their luck once more. Or rather, she was, because he doubted whether Angelus really wanted to kill him. Where would the fun be in that?

And those damned goats were weighing heavily on his mind. It didn’t worry him, but he knew how Buffy would take it if anything happened to them. So when he was sure she was fast asleep he crept down to the stable and found Alex waiting to take him into town. Together they roused the surprised animals from their sleep and drove them down to the gates. They didn’t want to go and the whole farce of them trying to release them into the wild was set against the backdrop of his demon urging him to eat one of them. He was monstrously hungry and Buffy would never know, it kept telling him.

The goats kept bolting back to the stable and trying to settle down again and eventually Spike had to take the baby as bait and lure the nanny through the gates with it. The Billy took even greater exception to the upset in his routine and by the time they’d bundled him through the gates Spike was seriously considering the demon’s request as it glared back at him.

Then the stupid animals stood and stared at him, bleating pitifully for him to let them back in. And in the morning, they were still there.

----------------------------------------------------

With a shaking hand, Warren accepted the drink from the tall, dark-haired man. But when he tried to grip the glass his fingers failed him and it slipped clean through them. It fell to the floor and shattered, splashing his trouser leg with whiskey and setting his nerves even more on edge than they already were.

The man, who insisted he call him Angelus, had frightened him silly the first time he’d looked at him and now, sitting opposite him in this plush sitting room, the effect was even more magnified.

Angelus chuckled to himself and sprawled back into his chair.

“Are ye afraid of me, lad?” he asked genially, completely ignoring the broken glass.

“Need I be?” Warren managed to stammer it out, a voice in the back of his mind telling him not to antagonise this deceptively calm man that regarded him with such cool eyes. He tried to bend down to pick up the glass, blurting out his apologies as he did so, but Angelus stopped him with the toe of his boot.

Warren hadn’t even seen him rise and as he looked up at him, the man seemed to tower over him like a giant. A hand gripped his shoulder and he was hauled to his feet and set firmly back into his chair. Pain sliced through his head as he sat down with a jolt, reminding him that somehow he’d acquired an injury, and Angelus settled back opposite him once more.

“Now then, lad. Why don’t ye just calm down and perhaps we can provide each other with some mutual benefit?”

Warren’s eyes widened with shock and he shrank even further back into his chair. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “Nor what I might have said to you last night, I talk a lot of rubbish when I’m drunk. But I..I’m not that sort of man.”

Angelus laughed, a dark, rich sound. For a moment he tapped his finger on the side of his own whiskey glass, then he downed it in one. “Is that what you think this is?” he said, raising his eyebrows. And then he winked. “Don’t worry lad, you’re not my type.”

Warren gripped the arms of the chair to stop himself bolting there and then. Flicking a glance at the door he tried to measure the distance and work out his chances of actually getting to it, but Angelus was looking too. He shook his head and made a tutting noise.

“Now then, lad. Do ye think you’re a prisoner or something. Now what makes you think that?”

“Then I’m free to go?”

“Anytime ye like.” Angelus nodded towards the door and gave him a small wave.

Warren rose slowly, fighting the nausea and dizzyness caused by both the alcohol and the injury, he suspected, and straightened his jacket. It wasn’t the first time he’d been propositioned by a man, it was commonplace at boy’s boarding schools, but he’d quickly discovered that he had no leanings in that direction at all. He was two steps from the door when Angelus spoke.

“Of course, if you go now, you’ll never find her.”

Warren froze, then understanding dawned and all his worse fears seemed to be justified at once. If Buffy had already crossed paths with this Angelus fellow then he didn’t give much for her chances. The thought made his blood run cold.

“Do you know where she is?” He didn’t turn around because he didn’t want to see the look on Angelus’ face. A look that was bound to tell him that something awful had happened to her. After a long silence he felt obliged to confront this strange man on his sister’s behalf, but when he turned around Angelus was still smiling and holding up one of his papers.

“Ye said there’d be a reward.”

Warren couldn’t decide whether to be relieved at that statement or not. “This is what it’s all about then, you want to collect the reward?” he said hopefully.

“No lad.”

Angelus motioned him down again and he went, because this was the best chance that he’d had of finding her since Buffy had disappeared and scared witless as he was, he knew he ought to take it.

“If you’ve hurt her…” he began.

“Now lad,” Angelus’ face turned dark. “No need to be insulting me. I only want to help find her.”

“For what motive?” Warren said, genuinely mystified. “Why should you want to help me?”

“Well now, “ Angelus said. “I have certain information that your sister is being held against her will by someone who needs to be taught a lesson in manners. Someone who doesn’t respect his elders. You give me the information I need and I’ll find your sister for you. Then you get her back, and I get to settle my score and retrieve what’s rightfully mine.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Warren said. “How can I help you find her? If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t need you.”

“Well, there you see. I have certain means that you don’t have access to and together, I think we could do this.” Angelus leaned forward, conspiratorially. “He’s a cad of the worst possible nature. I truly fear for your sister’s virtue.”

Warren’s head snapped up from the daze he’d gone into during Angelus’ speech. “You don’t think…?”

Angelus raised an eyebrow and sat back. “Very much so, I’m afraid. In fact we’ll be lucky to find her alive.”

And it’s all my fault,Warren thought, his heart hammering painfully. And then another voice intruded telling him that if only she’d loved him back then none of this would have happened. “I didn’t mean for any of this,” he blurted out. “We have to find her. What must I do?”

Angelus nodded and smiled a satisfied smile. “Meet Drusilla,” he said. “She needs your co-operation for a few moments and then I may have some good news for you.”

Warren nearly jumped out of his chair when he realised that Angelus had been joined by the dark-haired woman he’d met outside the theatre. Looking around frantically he wondered how these people managed to move so fast and so silently. He affected a nervous bow from his chair as she approached him.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Pretty boy is going to help mummy, isn’t he?” She knelt in front of him and then he felt her hand tugging at the back of his neck, pulling him towards her. The other hand she placed with spread fingers on the top of his head. “What’s the little girl’s name? It’s too cloudy to see right now, just tell me her name and make the clouds roll away.”

Warren felt himself trembling in her strong grip and he couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. Drusilla caught him by the side of his face, crushing his cheek as she forced him to look at her. “Open up for me, that’s a good boy. Then mummy will be very nice to you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t shake his head to disagree, neither could he stop himself from telling this strange woman his sister’s name. Something in her gaze seemed to be robbing him of his will and he found himself falling into an abyss from which he knew he would never return. “You’re some strange religious cult, aren’t you? I knew it,” he blurted out. At least he thought it was him talking, but the sound seemed to be coming from the other side of the room. Images started to filter through his mind, slowly at first and then with a burning intensity. So much so that when he heard the scream he had no doubt that it was his. It ripped through his whole body as he saw Buffy being violated by a creature so horrible that it could have only come from the world of deepest nightmares.

Then, when he managed, at last, to open his eyes, he found that nightmares take place when you’re awake too. The hideous creature from his vision was standing right of him and another was kneeling at his feet holding him. The monster that wore Drusilla’s clothes stroked his neck with surprisingly gentle fingers and then, with a painful jolt, twisted it to the side and pulled down his collar.

He fought with everything he had. And he’d never truly imagined hell, until this moment. It was no longer some remote place peopled by horned devils with pitchforks. Somewhere that, no matter how evil you are, you never quite believe that that’s where you’re going. It was here, in this room and it <i>was</i> happening to him, after all these years, he was about to get his due.

He called to God in his last moments. Asking for forgiveness, begging that he be allowed to repent. Screamed something about having paid off the devil already so this couldn’t be happening. Felt his blood turning to ice as he realised that this was it. The moment of his own death.

Angelus the monster took him by the hair and laughed at his babbling. And he thought he heard him say thank you for helping them in a surprisingly polite voice, before he bared two enormous fangs and bit down hard on the side of his neck.

------------------------------------------------------------

“Spike.” He was at his desk, frowning as he sorted through a sheaf of official looking papers. “Spike,” she said stopping to catch her breath. “You’ll never believe where I just found the goats.”

“Ahh.” Spike pushed back his chair and received her as she plopped herself down onto his lap. “They were outside the gates, can you believe that? How do you think they got there?”

“You’ve been down to the gates?”

Buffy’s smile faded as Spike’s face clouded over. “I know you told me not to go out, but I just wanted to see how they were and when I found they’d escaped I had to look for them.”

“Have you heard a single word I’ve said?” He sounded more incredulous than angry. “Everything I told you about Angelus. Did I not get through to you?”

“Don’t be cross with me,” she replied and leaned her head onto his shoulder. “I hate it when you’re cross with me. And I have such a headache.”

“Told you so,” he said, his tone softening. “Buffy, it’s really not safe to go out without me, and this isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t?” she replied in a small voice, but knowing full well what he was talking about.

“Winning arguments by going all helpless female on me.”

Buffy lifted her head and Spike raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” she said. “So you’ve noticed.”

“And you know I’ll always give in when you do this, so it’s really not fair.”

“But you don’t play fair either,” she countered. “You’re always distracting me when I’m in the middle of telling you something important.”

“Like this,” he said running his hand along her thigh.

“Yes, like that,” she said pushing his hand away and hopping off his lap so she could say what she had to say without succumbing. “How did the goats get outside the gate, and where are the keys to let them back in?”

“I put them there, last night. Thought I’d release them into the wild and someone will pick them up eventually. But the stupid things didn’t want to go.”

“Because they’re virtually pets, Spike. How could you be so cruel?”

“Maybe because I’m a vampire? They’re lucky I didn’t eat one of them. I’m bloody hungry.” The words were clipped, his voice edgy.

Spike levelled his gaze with hers and ran an agitated hand through his hair. For a brief moment his eyes flashed yellow then returned to blue. Buffy took a step back. “Don’t let’s fight,” she said. “Not now.”

“Hell, I’m sorry.” His hand came out and she took it without hesitation.

“So am I, I know you’re hungry, Spike. You haven’t fed properly for weeks.”

“Small price to pay,” he said and settled her back down onto his lap. “I’m sorry I snapped at you just now. I’m worried that’s all, and yes, hungry too,” he added. “I just have this feeling that we have to go now, something’s changed and I can’t work out what it is.”

“You can feel something, how? Do you have a connection with this Drusilla?”

“Not so much me with her as her with me. I just felt her so strongly this morning, as if she was reaching out. I have a horrible feeling they know where we are. And my demon’s all over the place. Angelus wants his due.”

“But I still don’t understand,” she said. “What rights does he have over you?”

“What’s mine is his first, that’s how it works, that’s how it’s always worked.”

“Then he’s done this before?”

Spike nodded. “But it’s never really bothered me, always been happy to share, although there’s not usually much left after Angelus has had his fill.”

Buffy couldn’t stop the tremor that ran through her body at his words. Spike held on to her in silent understanding and she took a deep breath. “The goats will find themselves a new home,” she said. “And we’ll get more when we reach America. See, I do know what’s important.”

“Thanks love, never doubted it.” Spike kissed her cheek and then rubbed at his eyes.

He looked tired as well as thin. Weeks of worry and little sleep compounded by his having taken very little human blood were starting to take their toll on him. She fingered the hollow of his cheek lightly and realised that she should have been paying more attention to his well-being rather than letting him look after her all the time. Being so adored by someone you loved was addictive and she’d happily lain back and let him pamper her well beyond the time when she was well enough to contribute more.

“What were you looking at?” She pointed to the papers scattered across his desk.

“Deeds of the house. I’ll put it in the hands of an agent and hopefully we’ll sell it. Should get a good sum, and they can bank the money for us and send it on to wherever we land.”

“It’s been nice, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has love. But I can’t be a human and you can’t be a vampire.”

“So there’s a place where we’ll meet, in the middle. A special place, just for us.”

“That there is, love.”

Spike dropped his head to her shoulder and it turned from him holding her to her holding him. “You’re exhausted, go have a few hours sleep,” she urged him. “Angelus won’t come during daylight.”

“Everything I do, I do for you,” he said suddenly. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“I love you, Spike. Now go rest and I’ll pack some things. Go on.”

“Just a few hours,” he said rising and letting her slide from his lap. “Oh, and I made you another present.”

Buffy laughed when he presented her with the bundle of sharpened sticks, but he placed a finger on her lips and stopped her.

“Right through the heart, just as I showed you. No hesitation, just do it. Yes?”

She nodded and accepted the stake patting at her dress as she did so. “No pockets.”

“Then put it in your drawers,” he said patting her on the bottom.

She raised herself on tiptoe and whispered something in his ear, smiling at his mock wide-eyed response.

“Suddenly I’m not tired any more,” he said with a grin and then he yawned widely. “Oh well, maybe I am. Don’t forget to wake me before lunch. Alex is driving us to Southampton as soon as it gets dark and I want us to be ready.”

“I won’t,” she said waving him away and turning her attention to the papers on the desk. They had money and she didn’t ask where it came from, but a house this size had to be worth a large sum and they would need every penny if they were going to start a new life.

A new life, but never a normal one,she thought and rubbed at her temples, thinking that she ought to get some feverfew from the herb garden to make into a tea. It was supposed to help. And then she would pack. Spike had bought her some beautiful gowns and she wondered just how many she could take. He’d fetched a trunk down from the attic, but that wouldn’t hold much, given the size of the dresses.

They should have been gone by now, and it was her fault that they hadn’t. She’d nested too well and Spike hadn’t had the heart to uproot her. The very fact that he was doing it at all showed how serious the threat was. And he’d be cross again if he knew she’d been outside after what he’d just said so she worked quickly.

As she plucked at the feverfew leaves she mentally said goodbye to it all. The house, her neat little herb garden. The goats.

Home is where the heart is. She’d embroidered that on a sampler once and it was only now that she truly understood what it meant. Now she knew how love could provide a shelter and a place of rest. How two people could stand alone with nothing but each other and yet have everything. How the whole world could fall away and crumble before your eyes, and still you had the courage to stand up and fight.

So she said goodbye again, more firmly this time, and with conviction. Even if she took no suitcases at all, everything she needed and wanted was going with her. The thought made her brave as she walked quickly back to the house, mindful of Spike’s words earlier. The stake was still in her hand and she knew now that she’d carry it always, that it had to become a part of the new Buffy who was rapidly emerging from this. She’d be the only woman in the world with special pockets sewn into her clothing to house her new friend.

The thought almost made her smile as she passed through the rose garden with its wooden gazebo at one corner and as she hurried by something caught her eye and made her jump, violently. A pale flash of white, a dark shape and a face. A face that she instantly recognised, but not the one she’d been expecting. With all the worry about Angelus she’d hardly given a thought to her brother.

Part of her was almost glad to see him again, he was her brother after all, and she shared a bond with him too. And the threat he posed compared to Angelus was nothing. He hadn’t moved and sat, impassively waiting for her as she tiptoed cautiously toward him. It wasn’t until she was able to touch him that she realised that he was never going to move again. As she reached out a trembling hand he toppled over sideways and flopped into a heap onto the bench, his open eyes still staring at her almost as if in accusation. The wound on his neck telling her exactly how he’d died.

If you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened.She heard his voice as clearly as if he’d spoken the words. Or was they hers? Her heart gave such a thud as he landed that she thought it was going to stop and when she opened her mouth to scream she found that she couldn’t make a sound, no matter how hard she tried.

For a moment the whole world tilted so sharply that she didn’t know where she was any more. Frozen in the moment, it faded away and just as quickly came back. With that her senses returned and she backed hastily away and turned to run back to the house. But not before she noticed the white envelope that was now on the floor. As she picked it up she barely registered that it was in Spike’s handwriting and then she turned and ran faster than she’d ever run in her life. Only when she was leaning panting for breath against the locked door of the kitchen wing did she remember that she was still carrying the letter.

With barely coordinated fingers she managed to open it. And although she already knew it was Spikes hand, the first sentence confirmed it beyond any doubt. Tears of shock and denial blurred the words as she read.

My dearest Buffy,

Everything I do, I do for you…

It was signed with his name, exactly the way he always did. And she crumpled it in her hand and shook her head, as if by doing so the words would magically disappear. Rising on unsteady legs she checked that the door was locked and made her way quickly upstairs to where he was. He was asleep, but snapped his eyes open the moment she climbed up onto the bed.

“What is it?” He sat up, scratching his head. “You’ve been crying. What is it?”

She handed him the letter and he read it, his brow creasing.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Warren’s dead.” The words almost choked her and the next ones even more so. “I was supposed to think you did it. Who wrote this note, Spike?”

“Angelus, he knows my handwriting. Buffy, was Warren really dead?”

Buffy touched her neck and nodded, then the tears started again and this time she couldn’t stop. Spike tried to hold her, but she was too stiff to take any comfort.

“You didn’t think it was me, did you?”

“They wanted me to. They’re close, aren’t they?”

She could feel it too, almost like a physical thing, the dark evil that was coming.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I doubted you. Just for a few seconds, I doubted you.”

“It’s alright love. You had a bad shock, don’t blame you for that.”

But she couldn’t stop saying it, for a brief moment she had thought he’d done it. More of a reflex action than anything and that upset her almost more than the death of her brother.

“I failed.” She looked into his eyes. “My first big test in this, and I failed.”

“But not a second time, love. Keep looking at me. They’ve made a big mistake, you know what you’re up against now. Angelus and his mind games. This is how he works, you just have to be on your guard.”

“I thought I was stronger than this, Spike.” She crept closer, feeling completely undeserving of the understanding he was showing her, and vowing that this would never happen again. She touched the new bandage on her arm and remembered what they’d done. How she’d said she’d be his always. “Tell me you believe I love you,” she asked him, almost desperately. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Buffy, I believe you.” Spike kissed her long and hard and then sat back., still holding onto her arms. “This is what Angelus does, it’s how he’ll break you. If you let him. Don’t fall apart on me now, love.”

She took a shuddering breath and wiped away her tears, but new ones kept falling. “My brother's dead and I’m scared, Spike, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to remember what we’re fighting for, that’s what…..

Chapter 14

Spike hated waiting. He hated that there was nothing he could do until sundown and he hated feeling so vulnerable, mainly because it was exactly what Angelus wanted him to feel. There’d been a time when Spike had admired the way his grand-sire could paint a canvas of pain with just a few masterly strokes. He’d watched him set the stage for mayhem and then sit back and enjoy the show. People were their own worst enemies, he’d always say. You just had to know which stone to knock out to make the building crumble. It was an art.

There was enough money to buy them passage to America and get them started on a new life. Spike counted out the pile of notes into bundles. Some for Buffy and some for the luggage, so that if they got separated then at least she'd be able to go on without him. The rest he stuffed into the inside pocket of his jacket. The house would sell eventually, but as yet they had no plans beyond getting out of England and away from Angelus. Finance wasn’t really a problem for someone with very few morals. This large house had been an uncharacteristically self-indulgent phase in his incarnation as a vampire. Mansion, or single room it made little difference to him since his new life had been mostly motivated by hunting and feeding and sex. There’d been times when a dark cellar had done just as well as a place to sleep out the daylight hours, but he’d enjoyed these last few weeks with Buffy in the comfort of this relatively safe haven.

She was still in the chair where he'd put her. Red-eyes, her face blotchy - she hadn't stopped crying and nothing he said seemed to make any difference to her. It was heart-breaking watching her go to pieces like this, especially now, when he needed her to be strong and when possibly, the worse was yet to come. With Dru’s help Angelus would know exactly where to make the most painful cuts. Incisions that would bleed and never heal, or that would leave one of them a scarred, broken shell.

Sitting on the arm of the chair Spike tentatively reached out for her and she turned and continued sobbing, her face buried in his lap. He took out his pocket watch and looked at it for what seemed the hundredth time that day. Not that he needed a watch to tell him that it was still too light outside for a vampire to travel, but it made him feel as if he was at least doing something. The grim predictability of what was happening didn’t surprise him, but he wasn’t going to accept it. Not this time.

"Tell me what I can do to help," he said.

Buffy lifted her face to him and wiped her eyes with her fingers. "Can you turn back time?" she asked him.

"Wish I could love."

She sniffed loudly and groped in her sleeve for a handkerchief. "Whatever I thought of him, he was my brother, Spike, and I must have loved him at some time. I just can't forget his face. He died in agony and wherever he is, he blames me for it."

"He was a sick bastard, love. I'm sorry, but it’s true and everything he got, he earned."

"Please don't say that,” she said, her eyes pleading for understanding. “You didn't know him like I did." Buffy leaned back into the chair and stared up at the ceiling. "This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't run away."

"But something else might have. Have you thought of that?"

"My virtue for his life? How could I say I'd rather see him dead that give in to him. I never wanted him dead."

"It's not your fault love. Look at me and keep looking at me. I need your help, Buffy, I can't do this without you,” Spike told her. “There’ll be plenty of time for crying on the boat, right now I’m asking you to be strong.”

“I don’t deserve happiness, Spike. Not at this price.”

“Don’t let’s get into that, love or we’ll never leave. I don’t deserve it either, but I want it.”

“At any cost?”

Spike lifted her hair and leaned over for a soft kiss to the back of her neck. He tested her response with another, lingering a little longer and lightly tracing the neckline of her dress with his fingers, feeling the tingle that ran over her skin when he touched her. “I’m going to fight for you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Buffy moved against his hand and he felt some of the tension leave her. “Then you’re going to get hurt,” she said in a resigned tone. “And all because of me.”

“It’s my choice, love.”

“I know I can’t stop you,” she said with a small laugh. “Would you like to make love to me one more time before we leave?”

“Am I that obvious?” he said and pulled her out of the chair. “And you know I’d fetch you back from hell if I had to. You’ve given my existence meaning in a way nothing ever has.”

“Have I?” She sounded surprised. Almost as if the last few weeks, and everything they’d been through had never happened.

“Kiss me, Buffy,” Spike asked her. “I love kissing you.”

There was warmth in her lips, but part of her was missing, still outside staring at her dead brother. He didn’t have to be a vampire to tell that. She went up on tiptoe and tried to keep him in place when he pulled away.

“See how horribly wicked I am. My brother lies dead outside and all I want to do is make love,” she said and let her fingers slip into his. “Come and make me forget all about it.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Buffy.” Spike lifted her hands and punctuated his words with a kiss to the back of each of them. “You’re not wicked. And you have every right to grieve. I don’t want to stop you doing that. We just can’t spare time for it now.”

Angelus would love this, Spike thought. The way he was stealing Buffy away, not physically, but mentally through self doubt and recrimination. The unbearable guilt would separate them more surely than if Angelus killed her.

“Spike do you think he’s been turned?”

“Doesn’t matter if he has. I’ve taken care of it.”

Buffy’s head snapped up. “How?”

“Don’t ask me that, love. Just know we couldn’t take the risk.”

Nodding slowly she pushed a hand through her hair then looked at the half-packed trunk that lay in the middle of the bedroom floor. “Shall we finish packing?”

“We should,” he said, his spirits lifting at her attempts to piece herself back together. “We can’t take everything, but I’ll make it up to you when we get to America.”

“Everything I need is going with me,” she said quietly, but with conviction in her voice. As if she hadn’t had to think about her response because it was already there, in her mind. “Make love to me before we leave.”

“I’d like that,” Spike said touching her bandaged arm. “Buffy, don’t let anything Angelus does come between us, remember why we did this?”

She regarded their wounded arms with eyes blurred by more tears which she sniffed away and refused to let fall. All she managed was a nod and Spike could see that she’d given as much as she could just then.

“I’m just going down to the library to choose a few books to take with us. Are there any you want me to bring up?” he said stepping back and giving her space. “You’ll be alright by yourself for a while?”

“Choose me some,” she said opening the wardrobe and staring inside. She ran her fingers over the hanging dresses and lingered on the black silk. “None of this seems important anymore.”

“Wear it,” he told her. “If it makes you feel better.”

“I’d like to, if you don’t mind. It would be expected.”

Lost and lonely. Sad and in pain. His demon picked it all up, but without the usual relish. A mere few weeks ago it would have been howling with glee and salivating at the thought of such sport. But instead, it just stood by and, like him, paid silent witness to her pain.

Spike knew that he couldn’t take it away from her and neither could her feel it for her, although he gladly would have if he could. The sight of her standing there so subdued tore at him, but one thing he was more sure of than anything was her strength. For a few more hours she could indulge her grief and deep down she probably knew that. The smile she gave him was tremulous, but meant to reassure and he took it at face value, resisting the urge to cross the room and hold her. She knew she had his strength whenever she wanted it, but now was a time for her to search deep inside herself and find hers again.

“Death couldn’t take you,” he reminded her before turning and leaving the room.

For all his concern about her he hadn’t realised how much, until now, it had been focussed on what he needed and his feelings. She was always more than happy to give him the constant reassurance that he craved, the declarations of love that he needed to hear and the physical love that his body lusted after. But, just lately he was learning to put all that aside and simply trust her. It was the first time since he’d met her that he would truly have let her walk away from him, if that’s what she wanted. But, ironically, he couldn’t do that now because of Angelus.

‘We should have gone to her,’ his demon said. ‘Does she not need our strength right now? That’s something I can give. And she asked for lovemaking, yet you rejected her. Why?’

‘It’s not what she needed, and she knows we didn’t reject her. She knows we’re here for her,’ Spike told it. ‘I suspect what she needs more than anything is some thinking time. Time alone to sort through her feelings. Only she can do that.’

‘She thought I’d killed her brother.’

Spike reached for his favourite book and tucked it under his arm. ‘Do you blame her for that?’

‘Not really.’

The demon fell silent as Spike continued to scan the shelves, every now and then pulling a book down and adding it to his pile. They couldn’t take them all and most of them were one’s that had come with the house, anyway. The last one he found in the desk, in a locked compartment that he rarely opened. A small notebook with a leather-bound spine and a silk ribbon to mark the pages. William’s last diary. The best reminder of the person he used to be and something he’d been tempted to destroy more than once, but had never had the courage to. Perhaps he’d show it to Buffy sometime. It would give her a good laugh, if nothing else, he thought.

‘She’d never laugh at us, not her.’ It was William this time, urging him to open the book, asking with a quiet desperation that he not be forgotten in all this. Spike dropped his pile onto the table and fingered the leather binding of the book that had been his constant companion in life. Forever scribbling, that was William. Poems, observations, hopes and expectations, they were all here. The ribbon marked a page near to the end and his eyes misted over as he reminded himself of the dreams that William never got to fulfil.

And William was so far forward at that moment that he didn’t hear Buffy come in. She stood silently beside him and rested her head on his arm, as together they read the words and shared the emotions. Sadness for William, for things that he’d lost and, for his demon, relief that she’d come. And for Spike? He reached around her and pulled her close feeling for the first time a strange kind of harmony with all the people that he was, and had been.

The lover, the friend, the monster and the man. They were all starting to blend in a way they never had before. The monster finding love and the man finding courage. Both of them wanting to be there for her. Each complimenting the other. William tempered the demon’s anger and the demon helped William to believe in himself. And she was the catalyst. The real miracle in all this.

Buffy traced his rib cage with careful fingers. “How could I have thought you’d killed him?” she said. “Do you forgive me?”

“Of course,” he said, without hesitation. “And you must forgive me for bringing you here to kill you.”

“I did that a long while ago,” she said. “I should have told you.”

“Thank you, love. Means a lot.” Spike closed the book, glad now that he hadn’t burned it.

“There’s still a lot of him left,” she said. “Sounds like he was stubborn and passionate and that he had a habit of reaching for the stars.”

“That’s our William. Always dreaming over the most beautiful girl in the room. Made a prat of himself more than once with inappropriate declarations of love. His timing was terrible.”

Buffy hugged him in sympathy and Spike felt a flash of a different kind of vulnerability. The kind that comes when you’ve really nothing left to hide and your trust in another being is tested to the full. It was telling that he’d shown her his demon before he’d let her see this. “Shall we go and finish packing?” he said attempting jollity. Thinking of William made him want to weep at the best of times, usually with embarrassment, but lately with real sadness. Her quiet understanding, however, was threatening to floor him completely.

“We should,” she said turning to him. “But first I have to say a few things.”

“Yes?” Her fingers dropped a little lower and Spike felt himself responding to her gentle exploration. “Tell me love,” he said.

“First, words,” Buffy said taking both of his hands in hers and gazing earnestly up at him. “I love you very much, and thank you for understanding what I needed just now. I don’t think I’ll ever get over his death and some guilt will always remain, but I will be able to live with it, because I do know what’s important, Spike. And I understand about Angelus now. He hurts me when he hurts you and he hurts you when he hurts me. That’s how he works, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded and Buffy seemed happy that she’d worked it out. When he tried to speak she stopped him with a finger on her lips.

“No, let me say this,” she said. “You said you’d do anything to save me, didn’t you?”

Again he nodded and again she stopped him giving any further answer than that.

“Then you have to know that I’d do the same for you.”

“No love.” Spike wasn’t going to be silenced this time. “You’re not sacrificing yourself for me, I’ll never be worth it.”

“It’s my choice, love,” she said repeating his own words back to him. “I don’t want you to do anything stupid for me, either. But I know I won’t be able to stop you, if it comes to that. Just as you won’t be able to stop me.”

“This is seriously scaring me, love. Please tell me you’re not going to do anything rash.”

“Well, of course I’m not.” She drew him over to the sofa as she spoke and urged him to sit. “I just want you to know that I intend to fight for you too. And now, I need your attention for a while.”

Spike already knew why. As they’d been talking both of their bodies had been talking too. Asking age old questions and responding with timeless answers. He was hard, she was wet and they wanted each other. Sometimes it really was that simple. Her fingers worked at releasing him and he had his usual good-natured grumble about women wearing too many clothes. So many times he’d asked her to show him how much she loved him and she always did. But now she wanted to make the ultimate sacrifice for love, and he wished he’d never said it. Almost wished he’d never demanded that she love him this much.

They both cried as they came. Her face was wet with tears that she tried to wipe stubbornly away, but his, he let fall so that when he kissed her they mixed and became each other’s. And he was no longer crying because she’d said she felt brave enough to give up her life for him. Strength like that he could respect in a strange kind of way. But, to be in receipt of the kind of love that motivates people to move mountains was a truly humbling experience that shook him to the core and made him feel stronger than he’d ever felt.

“Thanks, love,” he told her as they put themselves back together. “That was exactly what I needed.”

“I’m glad.” She looked over her shoulder from where she was standing at the window, staring out into the garden. “It will be dark soon.”

“I know,” Spike replied and picked up his pile of books. “But I think we’re ready for it. Come on love.”

-------------------------------------------

It wasn’t the first time Buffy had been in the carriage since Spike had brought her to the house, as they’d actually made love in it on more than one occasion. But it was the first time she’d been outside the gates in what seemed a very long time and the feeling of disorientation that built up the further they got from the house, surprised her.

“It was sad watching you lock the gates, Spike. Did you feel it?”

“Not really love, don’t get attached to places anymore.” Spike made himself comfortable and patted his lap. “Why don’t you have a sleep? Be a good few hours before we get to Southampton.”

Buffy laid herself down and tucked her skirts under her legs. She’d worn the black silk not just because it was an ingrained convention, normal rules didn’t apply anymore she knew that. But somehow it made her feel more in control and as if she was doing something for her brother. Whether he deserved it or not was another matter.

“He was always so scared of going to hell. I hope God’s been merciful to him.”

“Who, your brother?” Spike tipped back his head and stretched out his legs. “He should have thought of that before.”

“Do you think he might just go to purgatory for a while instead? Or don’t you believe any more?”

Spike laughed at that and Buffy lifted her head. “You mean because I’m a vampire? That doesn’t stop you believing, just makes it more certain.”

“Why’s that?” she said lying down once more. “I thought you didn’t care about God and such stuff.”

“Oh, I care alright. The way I see it is that the more black and white things become, the more heaven and hell start to look like real places. The more evil you do, the more you think of hell and vice versa.”

“I suppose so,” she thought turning it over in her mind. “Most people don’t have to think about it, they just assume that after a short while they’ll end up in heaven. Whereas evil people must know for certain they’re going to hell and very good people must be assured of their reward in heaven. Is that what you meant?”

“Something like that. You never cease to amaze me, do you know that?”

“Why?” she said snuggling further into his lap, already feeling him responding to her strategically placed head. It made her smile to herself.

“That we’re having a philosophical debate about good and evil when you should be fainting with fear, like a good Victorian heroine.”

Buffy made a dismissive sound and rolled so that she was looking up at him. “Sorry for my collapse back at the house. I needed it, but I think I’ve sorted myself now. No swooning, or wilting from now on. Got my trusty stake, and I’ve got you to fight for. What else do I need?”

“One of these, perhaps?” Spike bent his head for a kiss and she felt the reluctance with which he pulled away. “Stop distracting me,” he said smiling down at her. “We have to stay focussed.”

“You kissed me,” Buffy replied with mock indignation.

“Because you’re distracting me,” Spike countered. “Did you write your letter?”

“I did, it’s in my bag. But why couldn’t I tell then where to find the body? They’re going to need closure and a burial would be the best way for them.”

“Should be fairly obvious, pet.”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “Because of the bite marks? But they’ll never connect them with vampires.”

“There’s nothing left to collect love. And you’d be surprised if you knew just how much your father and the church knew about vampires.”

Buffy’s stomach gave a lurch at Spike’s words as, unable to stop herself, her mind ran through all the possibilities of what Spike might actually had done to her brother to make sure he didn’t rise. “I don’t want to know,” she said swallowing hard and raising her hands. “You did what you had to, but don’t tell me any more.”

“Don’t panic, love. I won’t. But be prepared to see with new eyes when you get back into the world. It’s all there, people just don’t look properly.”

Was it a price worth paying? Buffy covered her face with the back of her hand and tried not to think about her handsome brother with a stake through his heart, or even worse, beheaded. Everything that he was turned to ashes and dust. They all went there eventually and Spike was only doing it to protect her. It was convenient for her pretend squeamishness for the parts of being with a vampire that she found distasteful. Convenient, but very wrong.

“Tell me what you did to him,” she said. “I can’t hide from all these things, much as I want to. Otherwise I’m just living a lie, in my own little fantasy world.”

Spike gazed down at her long and hard, then he nodded and made a slashing action with a balled fist. Buffy acknowledged it with a nod of her own and then she rolled her head so that she could take it in and looked out of the window instead. A fine drizzle and an overcast sky lent the countryside a sombre, grey flatness. It wasn’t very dark because it was midsummer, but Spike had pronounced it safe enough for Alex to drive the coach. They were on the main coast road that connected the small port with the larger one at Southampton and as darkness finally fell the world narrowed down, once again, to one where only she and Spike existed.

There was danger and there were threats, but lying cosily in Spike’s lap, his comforting arms holding her, Buffy was having a hard time connecting anything evil to the two of them. She’d imagined scenes from a penny novel with the carriage careering out of control as it was pursued by Angelus, laughing uncontrollably as he drove a coach pulled by the hounds of hell. They’d run to the boat and up the walkway just as he screeched into the dock and then he’d stand and gnash his teeth and shake his fist as they sailed away into the sunset.

Only that could never happen because the boat wasn’t going to be conveniently waiting for them to arrive just before it departed. And Spike would have to have his coat on his head if the departure was during the day. And from what she’d heard, Angelus had a little more class than that. He gave a lot of thought to his debauchery and sadism so that if he caught up with them, they probably wouldn’t know it until it was too late.

Spike raised his eyebrows questioningly when he saw that she was smiling to herself and she picked up his hand and kissed it.

“Wish we could stay just like this forever,” she told him with a sigh. “If we get to America, I’m going to write a book,” she announced.

“Let me guess,” Spike said. “With yourself as the heroine.”

“Of course. I’m going to fight evil wherever I find it and I’ll be strong and brave, but strangely attracted to a handsome, young vampire and who will make me question everything I’ve ever believed in.”

“So I’m going to be in it too,” Spike said with a grin. “Tell me more.”

Buffy settled in to her story telling, surprised at the way it was already fully formed in her mind. And Spike had been right when he’d said that the world was full of things that no one knew about. Creatures that lurked in the shadows of our imaginations and in stories told to frighten children really did exist, she had no doubt of that now.

“It’s such a fantastic tale, that no one would ever believe it,” she said. “And if there are such things as vampires, then what about the werewolves and ghosts and demons. They’re real too, aren’t they?”

“Women are a lot more clever than they look,” Spike said laughing at her expression when he said that. “There are things in this world that shock even me,” he told her. “And I’ve seen some stuff, I can tell you.”

“So we all move in the same world, live around each other yet half the world doesn’t know the other half exist?”

“That’s about it. And lucky for me I still look like a human so I can get away with it.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought that a person standing next to her in any crowd might not be as innocent as they seemed. How easy it was to imagine evil when it came dressed as monsters and demons, but when it hid behind beauty and charm and normality, to trick and beguile you then that was truly sinister.

After a rest stop during which she had the dubious experience of having to relieve herself behind a tree, they continued on their way. She found herself drifting off to sleep and when she next awoke it was much darker and she could make out the glow of lamplight in windows telling her that they were nearing a town or a large village.

When she was aware that the carriage had stopped once more she sat up rubbing her eyes, looked round for Spike and found herself alone. The carriage door was open and she spotted him outside, talking to someone. Buffy was about to call out to him when she realised that he wasn’t talking at all. In full demon mode and sucking vigorously on his victim’s neck he continued feeding with soft growls seemingly unaware that he was being watched.

And Buffy couldn’t tear her eyes away, even though she wanted to. This was what Spike was. It was what he did and she either lived with that or she left him. There could be no middle ground, no living in that fantasy land of denial that she’d thought about earlier. The victim had a dazed expression as the demon let go and Buffy jumped as Spike cracked the old man across the jaw then propped him up against the wall. It was one thing to know that Spike drank from her, but to see him feed so greedily and with such relish brought it home to her just what she was condoning by sitting by and doing nothing.

The victim lolled over sideways and Spike seemed suddenly aware that she was looking. His features dissolved back to normal and he quickly returned to the coach wiping hastily at his mouth.

“Didn’t want you to see that, love. Sorry, I was bloody starving.” He jumped back into the coach and called Alex to continue the journey, slamming the door and throwing himself onto the bench seat opposite her.

“And do you feel better now?” Buffy folded her hands carefully in her lap and studied them while she waited for his answer. Then, on impulse she got up and almost fell into his lap as the carriage jolted off. Spike set her in the seat, still keeping his distance and she could feel the tension radiating from him. It seemed to be a mixture of shame for what he had to do and defiance for the creature he was.

“Yes,” he said. “A lot better. I need to feed, Buffy, but you don’t have to watch.”

Buffy lifted a hand and let it hover in mid air for a moment as if she was thinking of something and she had to say just right. Then she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a lace handkerchief. “You’ve blood on your chin,” she said leaning towards him to wipe it away. With the other hand she held him in place, threading her fingers into his hair because she wanted him to know that she could live with this, and he needn’t withdraw from her because of it.

“If I hadn’t been here, he’d be dead now, wouldn’t he?” she said still holding him.

Spike nodded and rested his face in her hand, relief plainly written on his tense features. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s what I am.”

Buffy pulled him to her, resting his head on her shoulder. She felt the small kiss he placed on her neck and she was glad that she’d been able to witness what he’d just done.
“I won’t pretend it’s easy,” she told him. “But you didn’t kill him, that’s what’s important. I still believe in you, love. And I’m honoured that you want to change for me.”

Spike remained silently leaning against her and Buffy knew that the best thing she could do was to let him make love to her. Not only because it would show that she loved him and fully accepted what he was, but also because if would help him work off some of the tension that he was still shaking with. The practicalities of doing it in a moving coach were somewhat daunting, particularly since they were in a populated area. But there were blinds in the carriage so that with them pulled down it was unlikely that anyone would see. And Spike was her man, he needed her.

Buffy leaned back across the seat, drawing him with her and he reached over and pulled down the blind himself. There were a few moments of leisurely kisses during which she tasted the blood he’d just taken as well as struggled with her conscience over whether it was right to be doing this with a man who’d just nearly killed someone. His demon flashed in and out as his mouth covered hers, ever more demanding, and his tongue pushed insistently inside.

The heat between them ignited suddenly, his need for her overriding everything else as he fumbled for buttons with impatient fingers pushed up her skirts and yanked down her drawers. He always felt harder just after he’d fed and his thick cock pulsed and throbbed with borrowed life. Buffy held on to his shoulders as he bent one of her legs so that he could get deeper and thrust into her more urgently while he smothered her face with kisses. She understood that he needed to come, hard and fast so she encouraged him and let him set the pace until he was muttering guttural words of release as he spent himself inside her.

Usually, when it was like this, he’d immediately see to her needs, but this time he rested on her for a while and there was real gratitude when he thanked her for what she’d just given him. It was a sweet gesture and surprising, coming from a vampire who was so used to taking what he wanted whenever he wanted, with no thought of the consequences. But he always said thank you, always reminding her that there was some man left in this monster that he’d been forced to become. She played idly with his hair as he lay with his head on her breast and his now-soft cock slipped out of her. He sat up, reluctantly and pulled her with him asking for her handkerchief for him to clean her up, so she sat back and spread her legs for him as he slid to his knees in front of her.

The first touch of his mouth always jolted through her like a lightening bolt and she grabbed hold of his head to keep herself anchored as well as hold him in place so that he wouldn’t stop doing what he was so expertly doing to her. There might be quicker ways to be cleaned up, but his teasing tongue was by far the best way she knew. And she couldn’t have cared if the whole town had suddenly appeared at the window and watched them as he sucked on her sensitive skin while his hands stroked her thighs and held her for his pleasure and hers.

He clutched at her, almost painfully, his fingers squeezing her flesh as she jerked against him as much with the movement of the carriage as what he was doing to her and she came again, twisting at handfuls of his hair as she softly breathed out his name. Then it was her turn to thank him as he helped her back into her drawers and smoothed down her skirts for her.

It didn’t matter how many times they did this, nor where they were. Sometimes it was fast and sometimes slow. There would be sweet words of love, or words of lust and want that made her blush, but she’d never tire of it, that was something she knew for certain.

“When did you make me want you so much?” she asked him genuinely puzzled. If she analysed it rationally she shouldn’t be here and if she’d been listening to a friend telling her this, she’d be horrified and advising her to come to her senses and go home immediately. Here she was though. Clinging to this man and hopelessly in love. Addicted to his touch. But not lost as he’d said he was in her. Buffy knew exactly where she was and why she was still here and, since she’d met him, she was learning exactly who she was too.

Spike had seen her before she’d seen herself and he’d turned her around and inside out, and forced her to look places she’d never dreamed of, for parts of herself that had alternately surprised her and shocked her. He made her feel unbelievably strong, and then sometimes as helpless as a kitten. It all added up to the fact that, ironically, in a man who was dead she’d found someone who made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt.

Can I Keep You?

by candyknicks

Chapter 15

The quietest time of the day is in the earliest hours of the morning. A time when the world of man is fast asleep and lost in dreams. Tangled in the limbs of lovers or lying in the comfortable familiarity of partners of many years. Warming each other with their breath. Mothers soothing crying babies, children waking in terror from nightmares, Spike felt them all. Their breathing and their heartbeats. Their blood pulsing around their bodies. He heard the lovers crying out their release and the sick and the old sighing with their last breath. It was his time of night. A time when his senses were at their keenest, when he’d usually feel well fed and satisfied and if there’d been sex then he’d have an extra spring in his step as he prowled the streets and revelled in being a creature of the night.

And even though he didn’t do that any more, he still felt the pull of it and the tingle that set his nerves on edge. His demon still strained towards it, torn between its old life of quiet destruction and his new one here with Buffy.

She was staring out of the window at a world that was hovering on the brink of waking. Like him, she’d fallen silent and watchful as they’d entered the town, steeling herself and building up courage for the next stage of their adventure.

“Is this Southampton?” she asked in a whisper as if she didn’t want to be the one to break the spell the world had fallen under.

“We’re not going to Southampton, love,” he told her, only now feeling secure enough to reveal his carefully laid plan. Her head whipped round in surprise then she looked out of the window again, her eyes wide as she took in his words.

“Where are we, then?” she asked him. “I thought we were catching the boat.”

“Sorry about the deception, love.” Spike looked down at her puzzled face and hoped fervently that his plan had been successful. “Needed you to think that’s where we were going.”

“To fool Drusilla?” she asked, the light of realisation dawning in her eyes. “But isn’t she more likely to pick up on you than me?”

“Probably,” Spike said with a sigh, “but I can’t help that. I’m taking you north, Buffy. We’ll get the train to London, then go on from there. How do you fancy disappearing into the wilds of Scotland? I’ll buy you a castle on a windswept hillside.”

Buffy took a few more moments to process his announcement then gave him one of her beautiful, dreamy smiles. The kind of smile that always warmed him inside because she did it just for him and because of him. “What do you think?” he said responding with one of his own, a moment of self indulgence for both of them before they had to face reality once more.

“I’d love it,” she said settling against him to make the moment last longer. “We can be the mysterious couple that live in the old dark house and eventually we’ll be used as cautionary tale to frighten children. People will talk about us in hushed whispers and legends will grow around us.”

Spike had to laugh at her vivid imagination. “I wonder though if it won’t make us easier to find. I mean, vampire, old dark house. Angelus isn’t stupid.”

“We’ll go to Edinburgh, or Glasgow, or Aberdeen then. I’ve read about them, Spike. All we have to do is lose ourselves in the crowd.” She snuggled closer as she put his thoughts into words.

“I don’t care where we are as long as I’m with you. Do you think you fooled her?”

“Who knows, but it was worth a try. We can still go to America, but perhaps from Ireland in a few months time. You’re not disappointed, are you?”

“Part of me is,” she said, “but part of me was sad to be leaving England. There’s so much of it that I haven’t seen yet. And I’d like to see Europe too, some day.”

“I’ll take you, love. Italy’s nice. Bit sunny, but nice.”

“How will we get to Scotland, do you mean Alex to drive us all the way?”

“No, just to the railway station. We’ll catch a train to London, then go north from there. Stop off wherever you fancy.”

Buffy pressed her nose to the carriage window once more and Spike handed her the jacket she’d brought along. “Here,” he said slipping over her shoulders. “You look cold.” He helped her on with it then propped his chin onto her shoulder and looked out with her. “I love this time of the night,” he whispered. “Everything’s so still, yet the world’s pulsing with life. I wish you could feel it too.”

“Feels like we’re the only two people left alive. Like we’ve stepped outside the normal flow of things.”

She shivered and Spike tucked her jacket around her and rubbed her arm. Cold and fear, he could feel them both as she relaxed back against him. “Are you nervous?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she replied honestly. “But excited. My stomach feels fluttery but I’m hungry too, will there be food at the station?”

“Should be. I’ll buy you breakfast as soon as they open. Have you been on a train before?”

“We used to visit an aunt in Brighton. Poor mama was convinced we were all going to die going at that speed. When will the earliest train be, do you think?”

“First thing in the morning, I should think.” Spike settled himself back once more and Buffy joined him. “Then we’ll have to get ourselves across London to King’s Cross without me catching fire, and find a train to Edinburgh. You’ll like Edinburgh.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Been everywhere, love. Feel like I’ve seen everything too. Get some rest, there’s nothing we can do until the station opens.”

They talked for a while and then he felt her sagging against him as she drifted off into sleep. “That’s right,” he said quietly. “You go back to sleep and I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she protested, but within minutes, her breathing slowed and her head dropped onto his chest. Spike shifted her so that he could lean back into the corner of the seat and once or twice she muttered something and tried to wriggle herself into a more comfortable position so he stroked her hair until she relaxed once more. Even though they’d arrived there was nothing more to do than wait and it was easier for him to stay alert without distractions. Alex had parked up underneath an archway to avoid the morning sun and Spike thought that he’d leave him the carriage in return for the service he’d given him. A shame to let him go since he was so reliable, but he’d no doubt find another vampire to work for.

Slipping into demon face he concentrated hard, determined that neither Dru, nor Angelus were going to sneak up on him again. Vampires had been to the house and he hadn’t picked it up. Probably not Angelus or Dru, they’d have got some minion to dump Warren’s body, but someone had. Their scent had been on the body though, and he could imagine the young man’s terror as Angelus had killed him because he’d witnessed him in action often enough.

‘She’s terrified, I can feel it, but she hides it well,’ his demon observed.

‘It’s called bravery,’ Spike told it. ‘And I’m warning you now that I intend to challenge Angelus if it comes to it. It would be nice to know you were with me.’

‘Challenge the head of the family? Do you know how serious a thing that it?’

‘Well, of course I do,’ Spike replied. ‘That’s why I’m going to do it. It’s the only way to be free of him. Will you be turning into your usual heap of blubber at the sight of him, or are you going to help me? I don’t stand a cat-in-hell’s chance otherwise.’

‘I prefer to call it deference,’ the demon sniffed. ‘I don’t like Angelus and I certainly don’t like his demon, but there are ways that things are done, have always been done.’

“So, what, are you just going to stand by and watch as he violates her? Turns her?’

‘Of course not,’ it said, affronted. ‘She’s ours, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, she’s ours, and I need you to remember that. You have a choice in this, and I can’t do this without you.’

‘Break away from the family once and for all? You do know the consequences of failure, don’t you?’

‘Course I do, but that’s not going to be an option. I reckon we’re strong enough now, and we’ve got everything to fight for. I need Angelus to release me from the family bond if we’re ever going to get any peace.’

“He could legitimately claim your life for such an affront, and he would too, he’s been more tolerant of you than you deserve anyway.’

‘Well, he got away with it with the Master, don’t see why we can’t.’

‘You know full well that Darla pays Angelus’ due for him. Why do you think she disappears back to her sire all the time?’

‘He’s not having Buffy. You know he’ll turn her, don’t you?’

Spike could feel the demon’s struggle as it withdrew to process their discussion. There was little doubt that Angelus would turn Buffy, eventually. Especially if Dru told him that the last thing she wanted was to be a vampire. He listened to the small noises she made as she breathed and felt her pulse vibrating through him, reminding him what it was like when he had one. She slept and he watched over her, glad of this quiet time for contemplation and for gathering his courage. With or without his demon he was going to fight for her with everything he had.

All vampires liked their victims young and beautiful and Angelus was no exception. They liked them innocent and virginal too, but at least that was one thing that Angelus couldn’t take from Buffy, Spike had finished off what her brother had started and sexually, anyway, there wasn’t much left for her to learn.

‘That’s not entirely true,’ his demon said and Spike shuddered at the implication of his words. When it came to sexual debauchery Angelus was a master for whom the boundaries of pain and pleasure blurred more often than not. And she’d never recover from it. Not as long as she remained human, that was.

‘I need you with me,’ he told the demon. ‘This is one fight we can’t afford to lose.’

The hours ticked by and the world started to come to life. Vendors arrived with their barrows to set up shop inside and outside the station. A shoe shine boy sat against the wall and set out the tools of his trade, waiting for custom. Cabs lined up, some dropping off passengers and their luggage. Men in business suits, families going on excursions, young couples just like them. Hopefully he and Buffy could successfully disappear into the crowd, but it was too light for him to go outside without covering up. His trusty leather coat lay on the seat opposite and walking around with that on his head was bound to attract some attention to them, especially to those who knew what the were seeing, but it couldn’t be helped. First class tickets might ensure them some privacy once inside the carriage and it was only a short walk to the station concourse.

Still in demon face, he stretched and rubbed at his tired eyes, scratchy with lack of sleep and he willed himself to stay awake because now, more than at any other time he needed to keep alert. A face suddenly appearing at the window made him freeze in mid-yawn and he jerked back in his seat, then relaxed when he saw a little girl with black ringlets gazing solemnly at him with large eyes. She didn’t look frightened, merely curious, tipping her head as if she was trying to puzzle out what she was seeing. His demon reacted automatically, baring its teeth and growling softly and as Spike slid back into human face he knew that had this happened a few weeks ago the child would be dead by now. She still looked puzzled at the change in him, then she looked back over her shoulder as if she was being called by someone. Giving him one last look and a hint of a smile, she jumped down and was gone.

Spike shook Buffy gently to wake her and wondered at the strangeness of a vampire who didn’t kill any more. As a human he’d always firmly believed in the power of love. He’d had no doubt that it would drive people to incredible feats of sacrifice, if not insanity and here he was, living proof of that power. Instead of accepting his fate he was starting to question it. Going against the natural order of things so that he didn’t know what to call himself any more. It had always been there, his demon had called him an anomaly more than once, but the reason hadn’t been plain until he’d met Buffy. Love conquered all, it was a well – worn cliché, but so true. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.

As she stirred and sighed into wakefulness his demon stepped forward and studied her long and hard.

‘She’s certainly worth dying for,’ it said. ‘And I would, die for her.’

With that statement, William and the demon moved another step closer to each other, united in a common purpose and Spike embraced both of them with a huge sigh of relief. Together they made a formidable team and he wanted to shout out loud at the feeling of strength that surged through him.

“What’s so funny?” Buffy said in a raspy voice as she struggled to clear away the cobwebs of sleep. “You’re grinning.”

“Am I?” Spike answered, knowing full well that he was. “It’s maybe because I’ve just realised something,” he told her and pressed a light kiss to her lips.

“Oh yes, and what might that be?” She kissed him back and leaned against the seat, yawning widely. “Tell me.”

“We’re going to win this one. That’s what.” He caught her for another kiss, more passionate this time as the feeling of exhilaration surged through him. Buffy giggled as he pressed her into the seat and growled playfully into her neck. Kissing the scar he’d given her there, and vowing that no other vampire would ever overlay his claim to her.

“We’re stronger than he is, Buffy, just got to keep believing it.”

He’d have made love to her right there and then if they hadn’t been parked outside a station that was rapidly filling up with people moving all around. With a sense of purpose he’d never felt before he helped her to gather up their things and then jumped down from the carriage with his coat draped over his head. Buffy called over a porter who took a step back when Spike, still hidden under his coat, lifted the huge trunk all by himself and put it on the trolley and within minutes they were on the busy platform clutching their tickets, and waiting for the train.

Buffy sat on the trunk and he could sense that she was finding the crowds overwhelming after being out of the world for so long so he sat next to her and slid his arm around her waist, while the porter stood by waiting to load it in the luggage car for them.

“You two just married are you?” he said genially and winked at Spike. “Got that look about you.”

Spike nodded and winked back. “Going to Bath for our honeymoon. I hear it’s very nice.”

“Never been, myself,” the porter replied. “You’ll be wanting to find Paddington Station when you get to London. That’s the west-country line.”

Spike nodded again. “Thank you,” he said trying to put on an innocent face. Let this fellow think he was just a clueless provincial, Buffy certainly looked nervous enough to pass for one and it wouldn’t hurt to cover their tracks a little. She’d hidden her left hand as soon as the conversation had started and when the porter had taken a few coins from him to fetch them some tea Spike slipped a ring from his little finger and put it on her ring finger.

“It’s got a skull on it, Spike,” she said, scandalised.

“Turn it around then. We can’t be married if you don’t have a ring. I’ll buy you a proper one as soon as I can, but that will have to do for now.”

She gave in good-naturedly and twisted the ring round so that the face didn’t show.

“It’s alright love,” he said when he saw her looking around. “I can tell if there are vampires around. They won’t get anywhere near us without me knowing. It’s fine.”

“And he can’t send them during the day, can he?” she asked in a hopeful voice.

“Just got to get ourselves on that train to London,” he told her. “Then we’re home and dry, I reckon. For a while anyway.”

“There you go.” The porter announced cheerfully as he returned with a man pushing a refreshments barrow in tow. “Best cup of tea in town, at your service.”

Spike stood up and searched his pockets for some change. Buffy accepted the hot tea gratefully and he bought her a meat pie for her breakfast because he remembered how William had always had one whenever he’d gone on a train journey and it seemed fitting.

He stayed standing as he drank his tea, senses alert, but everything seemed normal. The crowd broke into a collective bout of coughing as the train steamed into the station, smoke from the stack billowing everywhere as it passed under the bridge. A blast from the whistle and a shower of hot cinders caused another flurry from the passengers, then they all surged forward looking for their seats. Spike paid the porter who wheeled away the trunk and then he picked up their hand baggage and with an arm around Buffy’s waist he steered her towards the first class carriage.

There was a small gap between the train and the platform, but since it was so overcast it wasn’t too much of a problem for him and they found their seats and settled themselves into them. Buffy pulled down the blind and Spike sat himself in the corner furthest away from the window after stowing their luggage onto the rack.

It was all so normal. From the outside they looked exactly as the porter had imagined them. A young couple very much in love and starting out on their married life. And it was a good sign that neither Angelus, nor any of his minions had turned up yet. The further away they got, the less likely he was to find them and Spike found himself counting off the minutes until the train departed. Buffy peered at his watch with him and squeezed his arm.

They might look like any normal couple, but they were far from that. An elderly gentleman was their only companion in the compartment as the train set off with a lurch and a slamming of doors. Buffy explained to him that the blind needed to stay down because Spike had a medical condition and he accepted it without question, disappearing behind his newspaper. And then they were on their way.

Spike felt his eyes closing as the train rocked back and forth, gathering speed, and he shook his head and forced them to stay open. Vampires he’d detect by smell, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep all his senses alert. Buffy took a book out of her bag and he dropped his head to her shoulder and read it along with her.

“We’re going to win this one,” he repeated to himself as the words started to blur. Buffy’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile when she heard him and she moved her thigh against his to acknowledge it. He said it again, pressing his mouth against her ear and she stifled a giggled and gestured with her head towards the gentleman, who was still hidden behind his paper.

It became his mantra as the train made its way to London. To be successful he needed to believe it with everything he had and every time he repeated it he felt a little stronger and believed it a little more. William and the demon were Spike. He’d always thought of them as separate and had had no idea just how strong he could be if he could only get them to work together. All they’d needed was the proper motivation and that was sitting beside him, warm and alive, quietly determined and engrossed in her book.

She was his reason for everything just then and nothing was going to take her away from him.

---------------------------------------

London hummed with its own special energy and Buffy was in something of a daze by the time they got themselves across town to King’s Cross Station. Spike bought tickets for the overnight sleeper to Edinburgh, checked the trunk in at the left luggage desk and then there was nothing left to do but wait.

“You look tired,” she observed as Spike pocketed the luggage ticket. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Not really.” He took her arm and steered her through the crowd. “How about we check into a hotel for a couple of hours? Better than sitting here and we can get something to eat and have a rest.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she said almost having to run to keep up with him. “But nothing is going to happen now, surely? Even if they know where we are, we’re well ahead of them.”

“Always best to be sure,” Spike said as he pulled her along. “Dru has a habit of knowing what people are going to do before they do themselves. But we’ll be fine,” he added when he saw the panic on her face. “Wouldn’t you like to freshen up?”

“That would be heaven,” she said wishing she hadn’t worn the heavy silk dress. It was far too fancy for mourning anyway and she’d very foolishly worn a corset with it because it didn’t look right without one. Spike caught her look of discomfort.

“What’s wrong?”

“Corset,” she said pulling a face. “Need to take it off.”

“I can help you with that.” Spike pulled her closer and sniffed at her neck. “Love the way you smell when you’re all hot and sweaty.”

Buffy straightened abruptly and pasted a sweet smile on her face. “Spike,” she said through clenched teeth. “People are staring.”

Spike looked around too. “No they’re not, got better things to do. Come on, let’s go get you out of that corset.”

People were staring, Buffy hadn’t imagined them. Spike was being far too over-familiar with her, for so public a place and they’d received more than one scandalised look, mainly from elderly matrons who seemed to automatically disapprove of any contact between the sexes in public. And in his haste to get her to the hotel, Spike had, more than once, nearly knocked someone over in his efforts to get her quickly through the crowd.

“Spike, slow down,” she pleaded with him. “I can’t run in this dress, I’m too hot.”

“Sorry love. You shouldn’t have mentioned the corset.” He slowed his pace and allowed her to catch her breath. “You’re glowing, love. Suits you.”

“I’m about to expire,” she complained fanning her face with her hand. “Is London always this hot?”

“It’s all the people, and the smoke. You’ll feel better when you get outside.”

She did, but only a little. Spike had been right, the crowds were stifling. Everyone seemed to be breathing on her and that mixed with the acrid stench of the smoke and oil was starting to make her feel quite faint. “Which hotel?” she said noticing that there were several conveniently placed around the station all quite grand looking.

“One where I can get some decent blood.” They stood in the entrance while Spike arranged his coat over his head and handed her the carpet bag he’d been carrying. “Can you manage that while I get myself across the road? Need to make a dash for it”

She took the bag astonished at his words. “They serve blood in hotels?”

“If you ask the right person for it, yes. This is London, love. You can get anything here. Got to be quick, come on.”

Sometimes things happen so quickly it’s not until afterwards that you’re able to piece the events together. Buffy felt a small wave of optimism wash over her as she reached for Spike’s gloved hand. The nausea caused by the station environment was easing and her corset didn’t seem as tight. And suddenly it was all starting to feel like an adventure. Like a giddy schoolgirl, she wanted to laugh for no other reason than she was in the middle of a busy London street with Spike.

Then somehow he lost the coat. One moment it was draped over his head, the next it was snatched away and he was left, standing on the bright street corner, vulnerable, exposed and starting to burn. She heard him swear loudly and cover his head with his hands, then he was fumbling with his jacket. Frantically trying to get it off to use for protection as he motioned her to follow him back inside.

Four police officers immediately appeared at the station entrance and Buffy naturally assumed they’d seen the theft and were coming to their aid.

“My husband’s coat,” she said waving them over. “I think the thief went that way.”

“No, Buffy.” Spike snatched at her hand, but the policemen got to her first and before she knew it two of them had her and she was pulled, shouting Spike’s name, towards the parked police cab and shoved inside. A few people stopped to stare, but no one thought it amiss that a young thief had been appropriated in broad daylight. It happened all the time, and they always went screaming and protesting their innocence. Spike’s fate, she didn’t see, even thought she twisted round, vainly trying to see if he was coming to her aid. The vehicle lurched off and Buffy threw herself, in desperation towards the door, but they had her again as she struggled and swore at them.

“Calm down, miss,” one of them said. “Don’t want to have to cuff you. You be still.”

She looked from one to the other. “What am I supposed to have done?”

“I said calm down, miss. We’re just trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” Buffy struggled again until one of the officers produced a pair of handcuffs and dangled them in front of her frightened eyes. “You want us to put these on you?”

She shook her head. “My husband will be worried about me, please, take me back so this can all be sorted.”

The two officers smiled and nodded at each other as if they were privy to some fact that she wasn’t. “He said you’d say that.”

“Who did?” Buffy stared at the cuffs that the officer was still dangling from one of his fingers and she clasped her hands together so that he wouldn’t be tempted to use them.

One of them searched his jacket pocket, brought out a printed paper and gave it to her.

“Your brother,” he said. Pulling out a notebook he flipped it open and squinted at the page. “You were abducted by the man known as Spike.” He stopped for a grin, raising his eyebrows at the name and then continued. “He lured you away from your loving family with false promises of marriage and naturally, they want you back.”

“It’s their belief that you thought you were on your way to Gretna Green in Scotland to elope,” the other officer chipped in. “Just be a good girl and we’ll get you back home in a jiffy. This happens all the time. Young girls getting their ‘eads turned. Forgetting their duties to those who really love them.”

Buffy listened to the words with a growing sense of disbelief and dread at Angelus’ ingenuity. The cab was rattling along at a fair pace and with the blinds down she couldn’t see where they were going. A cold, sick feeling washed over her as she realised that every second was taking her further away from Spike and straight into the waiting arms of evil incarnate.

“What have you done with him?” She almost didn’t dare ask. Spike would have fought with everything he had to get to her. The fact that he hadn’t made it worried her far more than her own predicament.

“They’ll have arrested him and I expect he’ll end up in prison. Best place for him miss. Menace to society men like that are.”

“You mean the two officers back there?”

The officer frowned as Buffy threw herself back into the seat and closed her eyes. Then she started to laugh. A high-pitched, hysterical sound which very soon turned to tears. Two men couldn’t take Spike, she was certain of that. She took in great gulps of air as she fought for control, knowing that this wasn’t the time to break down. There was still a chance of escape, Angelus didn’t have her yet, and she needed to be calm enough to see it and take it when it presented.

“He’s not my brother,” she said angrily brushing away the tears. “The man who sent you after me, he’s the one who means me harm.”

The officer sitting opposite her made a tutting sound. “There there, miss.” Reaching into his pocket he brought out a handkerchief and held it out to her. “You blow your nose and stop worrying. I know this has all been a bit traumatic, but your brother’s been very worried about you.”

She took the handkerchief and also caught the wink that the officer gave to his colleague.

‘‘How much did he pay you?” she said wondering why she was so shocked at such corruption.

“Handsomely,” the officer said with a grin. “Generous man, your brother.” He emphasised the word brother as they dropped all pretence that they were there to help her.

“How do you know you have the right girl?” she said clutching at straws, at anything.

The officer reached into his pocket again, bringing out two pencil drawings, one of her and one of Spike.

“It doesn’t look anything like me.” She swallowed hard and blew her nose as the officer had instructed. Sitting herself up straight she looked him in the eye. “We’ll pay you more. Spike has money, just take me back.”

“Tempting,” the officer said leaning back into his seat, “but you see, Mr Angelus said he’d be right mad if we didn’t bring you in, and he doesn’t seem to the kind of man we want to anger at all.”

The other officer laughed at the thought. “I ‘ear he’s got a bit of a temper.” More laughter, then he shrugged. “Sorry about this. Nothing personal, like.”

Spike had been so sure Angelus would send vampires after them that they’d completely overlooked this possibility. Buffy’s attempt at bravado completely failed when tears forced themselves from her eyes once more and the officers sat back confident that she wasn’t going to cause them any more trouble.

Poor Spike would be beside himself and, if they had him he’d never have gone quietly so they’d probably had to hurt him. And what if he’d lost his jacket in the struggle? He could be dead now, burnt to ashes and she’d never see him again.

The whole dream crumbled before her eyes. The hopes faded and all the plans they’d made evaporated to nothing. Buffy felt completely helpless, as her happily imagined future shattered and floated away like dust in the wind. For a few moments she sat, stunned into silence by the inevitability of her fate. One of the officers started humming a jolly tune and the other idly let his hand fall between them so that it rested against her thigh. Buffy saw the look they exchanged and she hastily moved her skirts so that he was no longer touching her, a ripple of fear tingling her spine. The man let out a soft laugh and dropped his hand to her knee.

“Mr. Angelus will have something to say about that,” she said knocking it away with a shaking hand.

“D’you reckon?” the officer said putting it back a little higher on Buffy’s thigh and squeezing hard so that she yelped with surprise and pain. “We’ll just ‘ave to tell ‘im your friend Spike did it, won’t we?”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she squeaked out. “Mr. Angelus will have you both killed if anything happens to me.”

“Leave it out, Jim.” The officer sitting opposite her kicked his colleague with the toe of his boot. "You know what he’s like.”

“Was just a bit of fun,” he grumbled, but removed his hand none-the- less.”

Buffy scooted along the seat and shrank into the corner as the officer rattled the cuffs again. “Spike will come for you,” she told them. “And you’ll both die horribly. Let me go now and I might be able to talk him out of it.”

“Vampire is he?”

Buffy didn’t answer but the officer didn’t need her to. He chuckled at the change in her expression. “Hear they don’t like the sun.”

“Mr. Angelus wouldn’t want him dead.” Buffy drew herself up again trying to put on a braver face than she felt inside. A castle in Scotland, that’s where Spike was taking her. Or a house in Edinburgh, where they could live a semblance of a normal life. And these two men thought they could snatch it out of her grasp?

Her whole body started shaking as fear was replaced by the kind of recklessness that either leads to great achievements or gets you killed. As she pieced the dream back together in her mind she saw her and Spike, the two of them living out the future they’d planned. Hope rose again as the feeling of recklessness took on a desperate edge. Death couldn’t take her. And neither would they, she thought as the cab slowed. She kept very still, waiting for her moment, eyes downcast and lulling them into thinking she was subdued and broken.

The officer sitting next to her lunged at her as she pushed open the door. Without hesitation she jumped out, picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could into the street, pushing haphazardly through the milling crowd of shoppers. A big mistake, she realised it immediately as the police whistles sounded behind her and they shouted for people to stop her. A man stepped up to block her way and when she turned there was another behind her, hemming her in as if she was some mad woman escaped from an asylum.

And she thought she must have looked it by now, with her hair escaping from the knot she’d rolled it in and streaming down her back and her eyes wild with fear and desperation. Both the men and the police officers closed in on her as she faced them and as her gaze flicked to each of them in turn she knew there was nothing left to do but fight.

It’s what Spike would do, and what he’d taught her to do. The gathered crowd collectively gasped as one of the men went down, with a strangled shriek clutching at the front of his trousers. Buffy lifted her skirts and gave him another kick for good measure before one of the policemen spun her round and pulled her back, hard against his chest while the other struggled with the handcuffs. She managed to scratch his face before he locked her hands together and then fumbled for her flailing legs and lifted them clear from the ground.

It’s not over, she thought as they shoved her back into the cab and threw her on to the seat to a faint ripple of applause and cries of bravo.

The officer she’d scratched picked up his discarded handkerchief and wiped his face. “Stupid bitch,” he said when he saw the blood and without warning he raised his hand and cracked her across the cheek with an open palm.

The sound split the air and the blow spun her around so that her face hit the back of the seat and for a moment she just lay there stunned and fighting to stay conscious. It’s not over, she repeated muttering the words more to herself than anything, feeling her cheek burning where the man had hit her. But they must have heard her because one bent very close to her ear and she smelled his stale breath as he answered her.

“Not over?” He said. “Not bloody likely. It’s just starting love.”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” she ground out, unable to move now that he was pressing down on her. “Spike is going to cut you into little pieces for this.”

“Well, that’s the trick,” the officer said leaning even more of his body weight on her. “Has to find you first, doesn’t he? Love.”

Buffy twisted herself as his hand pulled her hair away from her neck and hot fingers poked at Spike’s bite mark with careless disregard. It was tender, but she flinched more from the violation of a thing she considered sacred, than the pain.

“Oh he will,” she said gritting her teeth as he pulled her upright by her hair. “Make no mistake about that. He will come for me. And I promise you, hell will be coming with him.”

One Step Beyond candy's website is up and running thanks to the very talented Nikita. http://candy.karma-hotel.net/
This story will be finished very soon, about two to three chapters to go, I think. Thank you, as always for reading and for the reviews.

Chapter 16

For all his strength, Spike was left helpless when during the scuffle, the two police officers snatched the jacket from him. He had no option but to run for cover and, with them in pursuit he looked frantically around for Buffy.

Nothing. Only the faint scent of her remained at the place where the cab had been parked. Not enough to help him find her. Once they’d put her inside the vehicle he’d effectively lost her and he hadn’t even seen which direction they’d taken. Despair and frustration threatened to crush him as he imagined her terror and her disappointment in him. All his senses had been tuned in for vampires and Angelus had run rings around them.

William wanted to curl up on the spot and cry his heart out. His demon wanted to explode into a frenzy of killing. Spike just wanted her back.

The officers charged into the station after him and after one last look at the place where she’d disappeared he took off once more. Finding Angelus wasn’t going to be a problem. Getting there before he did Buffy irreparable damage, was.

The crowd fell back with screams and cries of indignation as he shoved his way through, then slowed down when he realised that he was losing his pursuers. A group of young men decided to help by grabbing hold of him and trying to bring him down but he shook them off easily then darted into a side corridor at the end of which was a door.

It was locked, and effectively he was trapped.

Just the kind of odds he liked.

His demon growled and rose to full strength. She was the reason he’d stopped killing and she was his reason to start again. Justice was his to mete out. And these two would be first.

The door gave way easily and Spike left it open because he wanted them to see where he was. Stupid humans, he thought and moved to the shadows as they approached. One was carrying a stake, as if he was going be able to use it. The other his truncheon. They were both large men, obviously aware of what he was, but confident in their ability to take him down. There was very little fear, but that was soon to change. The Demon growled again and the men looked up.

Spike had always loved that expression. Usually their last. The face they made when they realised exactly what it was they’d become entangled in. Even Spike was surprised at the speed and strength that was now at his command. True, he hadn’t exercised his full demon for some time so perhaps he was just forgetting how it used to be. But he didn’t think it was that. This was Buffy. For Buffy. He was strong, but she made him stronger. His determination to get her back and destroy anything that might stand in his path lent him an edge that made him feel as if he could fly if he had to.

The first one died without a sound. Spike snapped his neck and without a backward glance let him drop to the floor. The other tried to run away, but Spike kicked the door closed backed him into a corner and let him have a long, hard look at the creature that was about to kill him.

“Where did they take her?” Baring his fangs he leaned closer. “I’ll let you live if you tell me something I want to hear.”

“I, I don’t know.” The man slid down the wall, incoherent with fear and Spike felt his temper rising to boiling point.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said taking the man by the collar and battering his head hard against the wall. For a moment he thought he’d killed him and he cursed his impatience, but the man groaned and looked at him through bloodshot eyes.

“To Mr. Angelus, that’s all I know. ” The policeman fell back again and Spike crouched in front of him, took his face in one of his hands and made him look directly at him. There were people in the corridor, he could hear them coming closer, gathering outside the door and he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape that way.

“You’ll be dead by the time I count to five if you don’t tell me what I want to know. Where can I find Angelus?”

“I don’t know.”

Spike squeezed hard, drawing blood as his nails broke into the man’s cheeks. “Yes you do,” he said. “One.”

The man shook his head again. “He’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“I can stop him. Two. Three.”

The officer coughed, then his glance flicked to the door as the sound of scuffling and muttering voices came closer.

“Four.” Spike gripped the man’s neck with his spare hand and closed his fingers.

“Knightsbridge. Carlington Square.”

“Number,” Spike growled out. “Which house?”

“Don’t know,” the man rasped. “Said we was to park on the south side and wait.”

“Did he tell you to kill me?”

“No, was Henry’s idea. Wanted to say he’d taken out a vampire.” The man laughed then spluttered as it turned into a cough. Rolling his head towards his dead colleague’s body he suddenly seemed to realise just what was going to happen to him.

“I’ve helped you,” he screeched and clutched at Spike’s shirt sleeve. “You’ve got to protect me from him. You said you’d do that.”

“Said I’d stop him killing you,” Spike said calmly. “Because he can’t kill you if I already have, can he?”

The man’s head split as it hit the wall. Spike stood up and went to the door. People were outside, now involved in a heated debate over whether they ought to intervene or not. With a twist of the handle he broke the lock so that it couldn’t be opened without being battered down then he went back to the bodies. The money they’d stolen from his jacket had already been divided up between them and he stowed it all in one of the uniform jackets, then stripped it off the body. It was too big for him, but he’d need it for protection. The other one he pulled off to cover his head and then he looked around. The window would provide an exit albeit into the bright daylight, but it was the only way to go.

Only one thing remained as someone tried the door handle, then rattled it. Spike knelt by the first body, bared the neck and sank his fangs into the still-warm skin, stealing the life force that the man no longer needed. Filling his veins with power and strength.

And when the crowd finally managed to break down the door they were met with the horrifying spectacle of the two pale corpses, their faces frozen into grotesque death-masks, their limbs twisted uselessly. Curtains wafting gently at the shattered window, the floor littered with blood-stained glass.

As he dropped to the ground and darted into the shadows, Spike heard it all. Their gasps of horror, their screams. Voices shouting. He saw people looking out of the broken window, this way and that. His whole body shook from the high of the kill and his veins felt as if they might burst from the heat of the blood he’d so greedily taken.

Shaking off his demon he slipped back into human face, threw the jacket over his head and set off. The first cab he flagged down refused to take him because he was after all parading around wearing a policeman’s jacket that was far too large for him, with another on his head and the man obviously thought him a lunatic. The second took no persuading other than the banknote Spike waved at him. Jumping gratefully inside Spike pulled down the blind and flopped back into the seat.

The demon had indulged his moment of mayhem, and in that regard he felt a lot better. But what of William? His pain was still there, raw and aching and Spike couldn’t stop his tears. They squeezed out, warmed by the new blood, wet his cheeks and splashed onto his shirt. Spike let them fall. Let William cry for her, and for what they’d lost, then they all needed to harden themselves for getting her back.

Because he was getting her back. Angelus might have started this, but Spike was going to finish it. And for the first time ever, he truly believed that he could.

-----------------------------------------------

The pain in her cheek was a welcome distraction. Buffy focussed on it, trying desperately to keep it in the centre of her vision. It was something real, it anchored her and she needed that. It had all happened so fast that a part of her was still on her way to Scotland with Spike. They’d have made love in the hotel and again on the train. She’d been looking forward to seeing Edinburgh with him and that castle on the misty hillside. In her mind she’d already travelled there and back, and in the blink of an eye it had all been taken away.

So, when her mind screamed this can’t be happening, the pain in her cheek told her quietly that it was and at the moment there didn’t seem anything she could do about it. Sitting rigid and stiff between the two policemen, she thought of Spike and refused to entertain any possibility that Ahe’d been caught. She also tried not to think about the carnage that would inevitably ensue once he found her. Or the damage it would do to his journey of redemption.

That was the most heartbreaking thing of all.

“Where are we going?”

“None of your business.”

The policeman folded his arms and leaned back into the seat. Buffy could see by the angle of his head that he was looking down her cleavage, but there wasn’t anything she could do to cover up since she’d stowed her jacket in the trunk. Learning experiences come in all forms and here was one for her. The black silk ball-gown had seemed perfectly appropriate as a travelling dress back at a place where’d she thought nothing of wandering around in her underwear and petticoats all day. But this was the real world and it hadn’t only been Spike that people had been staring at back at the station.

“It’s very much my business,” she replied, but tried to keep her tone deferential, not wanting to anger him further. “You know Angelus means to kill me, will you have that on your conscience?”

“I haven’t got one,” the man said curtly. “And you talk too much. We’ll get there when we get there, alright?”

“No, it’s not alright. Angelus isn’t going to like it when I arrive bruised and battered, have you thought of that?”

He raised his gaze to her face then shrugged. “Not our fault if you wouldn’t come quietly. Now shut your mouth. Or I might have to give you a matching pair,” he added inclining his head towards her reddened cheek.

“My father’s a bishop.”

The second policeman, who was by far the quieter of the two let out a noisy guffaw at that, and Buffy jumped at the sound. Then she nearly laughed herself at the ludicrousness of it all. A bishop’s daughter who’d run away from home because her brother wanted to bed her. Who’d tried to become a prostitute and had ended up living with a vampire. Kidnapped by corrupt policemen so that another vampire could her turn her. Yes, it would make a fine comedy.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the pain instead. It was far more motivating, but by the time they arrived at their destination it had dimmed to nothing and all she had left was gut-wrenching fear that almost robbed her of her voice when she tried her captors with one last plea for mercy.

“Spike has a lot of money, you can have it all. Your colleagues will be dead by now, and so will you be soon, if you don’t help me.”

One of them at least had the decency to look uncomfortable as he handed her down from the cab. “Told you, it’s nothing personal, we just do as we’re told.”

She was quickly pushed into a much larger carriage that was parked on the roadside outside a typically grand London terrace, helped up by two younger men who were careful to stay out of the sun. Buffy didn’t need that to tell her they were vampires. She could feel them. It shocked her how much in tune with this bizarre world she’d become and they grinned broadly at her, showing blunt, human teeth, but their message was clear. She acknowledged it with a lift of her chin, telling them that she knew what they were, and that strangely enough, it didn’t frighten her half as much as she’d thought it would.

It was a world turned upside-down, where human corruption and the perversion of those who were meant to protect could shock her beyond measure. But where coming face to face with two vampires almost seemed normal. This was her world now and all of a sudden the black ball-gown seemed perfectly appropriate attire. Exactly what one would wear for a date with the devil. They watched her with a focussed intensity, much the same as Spike had when she’d first met him and her skin tingled as she felt the demons hovering behind their human masks.

Buffy didn’t dare close her eyes. Nor did she show any fear, even though she was now swinging wildly between bravado and terror. Spike had taught her so much about his world and she knew they were picking up every emotion, that they could smell her panic and feel the tensing of her muscles. Probably hear her stomach churning too. No escape opportunities presented and Angelus must have spelled it out to them because they took their job very seriously, not taking their eyes from her once. Neither did they acknowledge any of her attempts to communicate with them.

The strong jerked the chains of the weak. They took what they wanted by fair means or foul and there was no in between. Buffy knew that if there was any way to get through this then she had to think like one of them. Time for her to remember the strength that Spike had seen in her, the strength inside. It was worth every bit as much as physical strength.

And time for her to decide exactly what she was prepared to do to protect those she loved.

--------------------------------------------

Carlington Square was lined with four blocks of regency terraces flanking a central park-like area fenced in with iron railings. Very much like the house William had been brought up in.

But not Angelus’ style. Spike shaded his eyes as he pushed back the blinds enough to see out. Too public for a start. Angelus was a vampire in the classic sense of the word. Liked the big house, nice and isolated with gates that could be locked. And far away from other houses so no-one could hear the screams. If it was spooky-looking with a few turrets here and there, all the better. He used to say that the victims almost expected it. That he felt he’d be letting them down if he didn’t provide a bit of spectacle.

The driver jumped down and opened the door. “You getting out, or what?” he said narrowing his eyes as Spike shrank back out of the shaft of sunlight that fell onto the seat.

Spike reached into his pocket, thinking it was a good thing that he was feeling well fed. His nerves were on a hair trigger and the faintly insolent tone in the man’s voice was more than enough reason for Spike to kill him there and then. “Here,” he said, not even bothering to count how many notes he’d handed over. “That should be more than enough to buy your services for the day. And for you to keep your mouth shut.”

The man stepped back a well practiced look of indignation on his face. Spike reached into his pocket again.

“You don’t see anything, you don’t hear anything. You just do as I tell you.”

“At your service, sir.” The man pocketed the money suddenly full of smiles again. “Discretion is my middle name. Wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve had to do. Why once…”

“Do I look in the mood for conversation?” Spike glared.

“Er, no.” The man stepped back again holding up his hands. “Anyway you want to play it. I’m your man.”

“Good.” Spike looked him up and down, wondering how reliable he was going to be. The bright sunshine meant that he couldn’t do this without human assistance and he’d paid the oaf probably more than he earned in a year. No matter, he’d retrieve that when he’d finished with him. “I can’t go out in the sun, medical condition,” he said in answer to the man’s puzzled looks at his reluctance to leave the shady corner of the cab. “I need you to look out for a police cab. When it arrives, tell me, alright?”

The driver nodded. “Police cab? Someone in trouble then?”

“Yes, police cab – are you deaf as well as stupid.” Spike just about managed to hold onto his temper. Much as the man irritated him he would be useful.

The sound of a scream from the grassed area behind them made them both stop and look up. It was quickly followed by a child crying loudly and a woman’s scolding voice.

Spike waved the driver towards the gardens. “Go ask them if they’ve seen it.”

“Seen what?”

“The police cab, you idiot. Go.”

The man saluted and disappeared through iron gate while Spike anxiously craned his neck and tried to hear what they were saying. After several minutes of outrageous flirting with the uniformed nanny he returned.

“Good news, sir. They saw it. Been and gone.” He grinned. “Seems you’re off the hook.”

“Bugger.” Spike closed his eyes. Angelus liked his games and Spike could well envision a wild goose-chase all over London by the time he caught up with Buffy. If he ever did. He balled his fist at the vision of what Angelus might be doing to her, and punched a hole right through the cab’s leather seat causing wool and horsehair stuffing to fly everywhere.

The cabdriver spluttered. “Now, look here,” he began, but he didn’t get any further. Spike had him by the collar and hauled him unceremoniously into the cab until they were virtually nose to nose.

“Listen carefully,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage. Fear poured off the trembling man in a rush and Spike’s demon strained to be let lose. “First of all, I have a very bad temper and you don’t want to make me angry, have I made myself clear?”

The man nodded vigorously.

“Good.” Spike felt himself calming a little. “I need to find this police cab, alright? We’re going to wait here for a while and see what happens. I have a feeling there may be a message for me? Got that?”

“A message. Yes.” More nodding.

“And, just to make sure you don’t bugger off and leave me, you can have this when we’ve finished.” Spike had his money back before the man even noticed. “I’ll double it if you make me happy.”

The cab driver eyes nearly popped out of his head and his face fell. “H-How do I know you’ll pay me?” he stammered.

“You’ll just have to trust me.” Spike let him go and the man scrabbled to his feet. “A letter, a message, anything just keep your eyes open. And remember, I’m not a patient man.”

“Yes, sir.” It was a little less enthusiastic now that he no longer had his money, but he eyed it hopefully before returning to his seat at the front of the cab.

Spike sat back and concentrated. She’d been here, it was very faint and he couldn’t tell how long ago, but he hadn’t missed her by much. Less than fifteen minutes had passed before he’d been on his way after her. He sniffed again. It was all he had left of her. That and the rapidly healing wound on his arm. Mending too fast to leave a proper scar, he thought gazing at it in panic. So he squeezed it hard, re-opened it and let the blood drip onto the wooden floor.

Count the ragged-edged splash marks and feel the pain. Take in every last, lingering hint of her and wait. Not Spike. Every second could be the second he’d regret for all eternity. There was no way he could sit here and wait. Angelus had to know he’d be coming for her, Dru would have told him that. She’d have felt the challenge.

And his grand-sire would have risen to it with his usual elaborate ingenuity. Liked to weave his complicated plots and dangerous intrigues, did Angelus. Detail was everything to him. He span beautifully dark webs into which he manoeuvred his victims with painful precision. And he’d know exactly what Spike was going through.

Didn’t hurt to send it again, Spike thought. He pressed his knuckles to his eyes and images of Angelus and Dru floated in and out of his vision. The horror he’d felt when Dru first revealed herself to him, Angelus pinning him against the wall. The way they could both expertly tangle pain and pleasure. Buffy in the middle of it all.

Damn it to hell, where is she? His fist made another hole in the seat, caught on a nail and drew more blood.

“Fuck you. Angelus. I’ll play your game,” he shouted. “Your rules, anything you like. Just bloody tell me what to do.”

Knowing Angelus he’d choose some poncy weapon, where Spike would have preferred fist and fangs, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to win. Spike sent that message too.

And he got his reply. Angelus knew him too well. Within five minutes a young lad skipped up and asked for Mr Spike.

“In here,” Spike shouted.

The game was on again. The young lad bearing the letter came closer than he ever knew to being eaten when he refused to hand it over until Spike had given him a farthing.

Spike didn’t have a farthing so he handed over a banknote, which the boy flatly refused. “Man said it had to be a farthing, nothing more nothing less. Said ‘e’d tan my ‘ide if I took anything else.”

Spike jabbed his finger at him. “I’ll bloody take you hide off your back if you don’t hand that over. Now,” he ground out.

The boy threw down the letter and dipped back as Spike lunged at it. Good sense prevailed when he saw Spike’s darkened expression and he took off back to where he’d come from while Spike ripped open the envelope.

An address at the top, embossed in gold lettering. Expensive looking paper, heavy and watermarked. Angelus’ distinctive script. Very few words, but they told Spike what he needed to know. The gauntlet had been picked up and everything was in place. Time to find out whether he was going to live, or die. Time to finish it once and for all.

“Highgate,” he told the waiting driver. “Bradford Park.”

The man scuttled to do his bidding and Spike stared at the carefully written words, trying to hang on to enough anger to spur him on to victory. Yes, he felt it and the rage, his nerves were screaming with it. But overlaying it was a tremendous sadness that he hadn’t got to Buffy sooner. A heavy, aching regret that he’d let her down. And that was his weakness in all this. A weakness he couldn’t afford right now.

If you want her, come and take her.

Spike crushed the paper in his hand and threw it at the wall of the cab with all the force he could muster.

The vehicle jolted away and Spike slipped back into his demon mask. No room for William now, he needed the rage and he needed the pain. Needed to remember how much of a monster he could be.

Ironic that, much as he’d tried to be a man for her only his demon could save her now. The man he pushed far back into the recesses of his mind. So far back that he might never emerge again.

Victory always comes at a price. In the heat of battle precious things are often lost but the balance must be weighed carefully and if the prize is worth it you pay gladly.

Neither of them was going to come out of this unscathed or unchanged. What he was going to find when he got to Buffy, he had no idea. Angelus had told him all about Dru, how chaste she’d been and how good. How he’d feasted on her innocence, hollowed her out and filled her with evil and madness. How he’d shaped her into a monster, like him.

Buffy was stronger than Dru had been, but when you’ve looked into hell the pictures remain forever burned into your mind. Your sight will always be tainted by it.

Spike pushed back his sleeve and sank his teeth into his arm, tearing at the wound so that the ragged flesh gaped and the blood ran freely. He wanted it open and raw, determined that it wasn’t going to heal until this was over.

And his mind, he emptied of everything that was good and filled it instead with the deepest darkness. In the name of love, he embraced the blackest evil and set himself willingly on a path that would lead him straight to hell. For love, he would kill again, maim and destroy and sink as low as he had to go.

And in all of this he had to trust that love was strong enough to bring him back.

------------------------------------------------------------

You can imagine yourself brave. Picture how it will be, rehearse the speeches in your head. But it isn’t until you’re confronted with the nightmare that you know whether you’re going to stand firm, or run screaming in terror.

As a man or a vampire Angelus would have cut an impressive figure. And if she could have run away, she would have. All her bravado evaporated to nothing the moment he appeared and she realised exactly what she was dealing with.

He’d been watching her, not for very long, because she’d only just arrived, but she’d sensed his presence as soon as she’d sat down. He carried his authority with an easy grace, lacking Spike’s nervous energy, his power tightly controlled, but she guessed, always on show.

“Nice to see you dressed for the occasion.” He leaned against the doorframe, casual in his appraisal of her, but missing nothing. No use in hiding it from him, so she didn’t bother that the hand that gripped the arm of the chair trembled and her teeth chattered as she replied.

“I’d hate to disappoint,” she said tightly.

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t do that.” His arm dropped abruptly and he was across the room in what seemed like two strides. She should be used to the speed at which vampires could move, but it still took her aback. And Angelus was a master, in every sense of the word. He towered over her with dark confidence and then offered her his hand.

“So,” he said in a conversational tone. “Shall we be properly introduced?”

“Before you kill me?” Buffy kept her hand firmly on the chair.

Angelus clicked his tongue. “Now then, what’s our William been telling you about me?”

“That you’re a sick, sadistic monster.” She raised her head.

He laughed. “Always one with the compliments, our William. Don’t go believing everything he says. I think you’ll find us quite civilised.”

“He’s coming for me.”

“Oh yes.” Angelus dropped his hand and took out his watch. “I give him, say thirty minutes before he comes barrelling in through that door like the proverbial bull in a china shop.” Tucking it carefully back into his pocket he smoothed down his jacket and clapped his hands together. “Which doesn’t give me a lot of time, really. You must forgive me, I do like to be a little better prepared than this.”

The room was large and square, furnished with the simple elegance of the Regency. The candy-striped sofa was hard and only gave a little when he sat down beside her.
Buffy choked back the cry that sprang to her lips. Deliberately close, his big body flush with hers, he pressed her into the corner of the sofa as he leaned into her, his dark, shoulder-length hair caressing her cheek.

A faint tang of cologne mingling with a vaguely musty smell clung to his skin reminding Buffy of damp earth, death and decay. He was cold, like Spike and his body was hard and solid against her. One of his large hands slid behind her neck and Buffy sat very still, conserving her energy for when a better opportunity to escape presented itself. Or for a time when she could use the stake she had concealed in her dress.

“He’s going to challenge me, did you know that, Buffy?” His fingers tightened and drew her closer to his face. “It’s the only way he’ll ever be free of me. And when he fails then he’ll be completely at my mercy.”

“He won’t fail.” She could feel his thumb rubbing against Spike’s bite mark and see the way he was gazing at it intently. When he pressed against it she felt blood ooze out and he sniffed appreciatively.

“William always did have good taste, but he always shopped far beyond his means, poor boy, never knew how to hold on to a woman.”

Buffy shook off his hand and to her surprise he let go and sat back. His casual nonchalance didn’t fool her however, but neither was she prepared to sit and let him terrify her. He lifted a strand of her hair, studied it and let it drop.

“What scares you the most, Buffy?”

“As if I would tell you,” she said feeling a little braver, since he didn’t seem in a hurry to actually do anything to her. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as Spike had made out? She could only hope.

“You don’t have to,” he said dropping his hand to her shoulder. “You’re a very beautiful woman. I can see why William was so taken with you.”

“Please, spare me the flattery,” she replied and then screamed out loud as, in a flash he was on top of her, his hand down the front of her dress squeezing her breast and his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers.

“That’s got your blood racing,” he said with a chuckle, and then his lips descended to hers, and kissed her until she was bruised and gasping for air. One hand kept up the pressure on her breast while the other hauled up her skirt. And then just as abruptly he was off her.

She’d been as prepared for it as she could have been. Of course he’d want to rape her. Invade her most private of places in an act of violence and physical dominance. He’d want to erase and dirty any memories of Spike’s lovemaking. Want to show her how weak she was and how little say she had in all this. But the one place doing this wouldn’t touch was her mind. He could hurt her body, humiliate and disgust her, but mentally he wasn’t going to touch her, because she wasn’t going to let him. And somehow he knew it.

“That’s not the way, is it?” he said looking at her with something akin to respect.

“It’s just a physical act,” she managed to say, even though she was still trembling all over from the assault. “Spike will still love me if you rape me, it’s not going to stop him. And I shall endure it, even if you hurt me.”

“I’m sure you will, Buffy. And that’s my problem. I could torture William, or should I call him Spike, that would do it, but unfortunately he isn’t here. Or I could torture you, but I have a feeling you would endure it like some bloody, boring martyr, so it really wouldn’t be much fun.” Steepling his fingers he sat back and frowned.

“Turn her.”

They both looked up and Buffy took in a sharp breath at the dark beauty standing before them. It could only be Drusilla and she was every bit as mad a Spike had made her out to be, Buffy only had to look at her to see that.

She waved her arms dramatically and made a pronouncement about clouds burning in the sky then she walked gracefully to Angelus, her arm outstretched. “She doesn’t want to be a vampire.”

“Does anyone?” Angelus took Dru’s hand and for a moment they were so engrossed in each other that Buffy seriously considered making an escape attempt. The moment she moved however, Angelus’ hand shot out and grabbed her own.

“Now then, where are you off to?” he said without looking up. Drusilla sat down on his lap and engaged him in a noisily passionate kiss, which she presumed was for her benefit, and all the while Angelus kept Buffy in his painful grip.

They broke apart, at last and Dru giggled. “Spike wants her human. So turn her.”

Angelus smiled. “Ahh, I see. But of course I’ll turn her, sweetheart. With Darla spending so much time with the master I’m finding my bed rather empty of late.”

Dru growled and scraped her teeth down his cheek. “Got me, haven’t you, daddy?”

“We’ll add another to the harem, shall we?” he said and while he talked his hand slowly made his way up her skirt and disappeared between her legs.

Buffy watched, stunned as Dru groaned and threw back her head, completely oblivious to the fact that she had an audience. Still trapped by Angelus’ body Buffy could do nothing to avoid the spectacle but close her eyes. After a few moments she heard them both laugh.

“Quite the prim little thing, aren’t we?” Angelus removed his hand and inspected his finger. Dru leaned forward and sucked it into her mouth with another throaty moan, her eyes never leaving Buffy’s face.

“Don’t tell me William’s never done this to you Buffy,”

She couldn’t stop the heat flooding her cheeks as pictures of her and Spike doing the same thing filled her mind. Only now, rather than an erotic expression of love, it just felt dirty. Angelus missed none of it.

“That’s more like it,” he said sliding his hand over her thigh. “Want me to do it to you now. Like your brother used to. Shall I make you scream, Buffy?”

“He did not.” Buffy pushed herself as far away from him as she possibly could, which really wasn’t very far given that they were all rather squashed on the small sofa. “You’re disgusting,” she said trying to bat away his hand without success. He dipped it lower, pushing the material of her skirts between her legs, pressing against her with hard fingers. She couldn’t move because his elbow was jammed against her stomach and his broad shoulder wedged her against the arm of the sofa. All the while he kept his other arm looped around Dru, who was staring at her with a small secretive smile, tilting her head this way and that as if she knew something that Buffy didn’t.

“And you’re a challenge. Do you know how much I love a challenge, Buffy? Come now, don’t be shy, seems to me that between him and Spike, you’re a woman who likes a walk on the wild side.”

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

“Your brother? It was my great pleasure to do so. Screamed like a baby at the end, so he did. Let’s see if we can remember his exact words. What was that bit about paying the devil, Dru?”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Buffy covered her ears, but Angelus told her anyway, all the while pinning her to the chair with his rough caress. By the end of it she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Not for herself, he was hurting her, but she was determined to endure it without giving him satisfaction, so she did. She would cry for her brother though and the terrible death he’d been subjected to.

“You can’t hide it,” he told her, his voice a low rumble. “You smell so sweet.”

“You’re wrong,” Buffy told him and closed her eyes so at least she didn’t have to look at him. She could tell by his voice that he was getting aroused too so she kept as still as possible and focussed on what a monster he was.

“Darlin’, this is getting us nowhere.” Angelus removed his hand and huffed, almost as if he’d become bored by her lack of response. “Spike will be here soon, and we haven’t succeeded in terrifying this one nearly enough. Are a few tears all we’re going to get?, She’s got to have a weakness. Be a good girl Dru and tell me what it is.”

Dru tipped her head to the side and gazed at her again, the madness gone for a moment to be replaced by a clear-eyed look that made Buffy feel as if she could see right into her mind. Frantically she rearranged her skirts which were still bunched between her legs and attempted to block her thoughts with trivial inconsequential ones, but it was nigh on impossible. The more she tried, the more she could only think of the very things that did terrify her.

“Spike,” Dru said at last. “Little girl would die for him.”

“And she will, princess, but I’d like him to watch that and, as you can see, he’s rather not here at the moment. I want him to have a nice surprise when he arrives though. Something really special and specific. Come now Dru, you know how I like to get these things just right. A body part, maybe. Shall I chop something off and present it to him?”

Buffy nearly choked at his words. Not so much at the intention, although that was horrifying enough, but more at the cold cruelty in his voice. The relish underlying the words.

“Then she wouldn’t be beautiful any more.”

“True,” he said nodding his head in agreement. “And we like this one, don’t we, Darlin’?”

“I wish Darla was here. She’d love this.” Dru suddenly clapped her hands, a gleeful expression on her face, like a child who’s just won a prize at a fairground. She leaned towards Angelus and whispered close to his ear.

He raised his eyebrows as she spoke and kissed her on the end of her nose. “What would I do without you?” he asked as she sat back happily, her hands still looped around his neck.

“Can I go first?” Dru asked him. “Spike will be here soon, got to make her pretty for when he arrives.”

“Be my guest,” he said genially. “But the neck’s mine,” he warned.

It was almost as if she wasn’t there any more. While she sweated and shook with barely concealed fear beside them, they discussed her fate as if they were exchanging gossip at a dinner party. Completely oblivious to the fact that she could hear them, or perhaps that was part of the torture? If so, it was working because Dru had picked up on everything. She’d tell Angelus exactly how to make Buffy’s nightmares a living reality.

Buffy bolted from the seat, the stake in her hand as she made for the door. Neither of them moved until she was reaching for the handle and then they were both beside her so fast that she didn’t see them cross the room. That was disorientating enough. She looked from one to the other in disbelief and then lunged at Angelus with the stake. Perhaps Spike had been kind to her when they’d practiced this back at the house? This time it got nowhere near its intended victim. Angelus had it off her, twirled it in his fingers and, with a grin, threw it over his shoulders.

“You have a sense of humour I see,” he said. “I like that in a woman.”

Buffy felt their demons before they changed and with a cold stab of fear, knew exactly what was coming.

Spike’s demon had never really scared her. Grotesque and evil as it was she knew that Spike would never let it hurt her. And recently she’d started to get the distinct impression that it too was capable of a sort of love. But the two that stood before them had nothing human to temper them and hold them back. No confusion over what they were. No inner conflict with the remnants of their conscience. They knew exactly what they were and exactly what they wanted as they dipped towards her.

Dru latched on to the tender skin on the inside of her unmarked arm while Angelus twisted her neck to the side with a painful jerk and stabbed her hard with his fangs. All pretence at gentility faded as they growled and slavered over her like rabid wolves acting just like the monsters they were. Her struggles were mere tokens as they pinned her against the wall, each attempt of hers to break free only making them feed more enthusiastically.

Angelus held her up as she jerked in time to the painful sucking and then felt herself weakening as the world around her spun. And all she could think of was that she hadn’t said goodbye to Spike. The next time he saw her she’d be a vampire and he’d never forgive himself.

“That’s enough,” Angelus growled at Drusilla then put his hand to her face and pushed her off, knocking her to the ground. With her vision blurred, Buffy couldn’t see whether they were back in human face or not, but she guessed they were by the fact that their voices had returned to normal once more. Dru giggled and lay back on the carpet holding her hands to Angelus in invitation.

“Not now, Dru,” he said and Buffy's world tilted as he swung her into his arms. “Spike will be here soon, don’t want to disappoint the lad, do we?”

Buffy felt herself being laid down on the sofa and she watched, helpless, through half-closed eyes as Angelus stripped off her dress, arranged her limbs just so and then went to work on her hair. There was no energy to fight him. Her arms felt like lead and the bites ached with an agonising intensity. They would scar, of course and be a constant reminder of them. A mocking mirror of the ones Spike had given her. He’d marked her with his love and they’d marked her with their hate.

The finishing touch was a rose pressed into the fingers of the hands he’d crossed carefully over her chest just as one would with a corpse. Dru hovered in and out cooing and approving Angelus’ handiwork and warning him that Spike was very close. Neither of them made any attempt to stem the flow of the blood and the feeling of it trickling from the wounds and soaking into the white cotton and lace of her underwear made Buffy want to vomit.

The commotion in the hall sounded muffled and far away as she slipped into darkness. She heard Spike’s voice and thought that he called her name, but the blackness claimed her before she could answer him. Before she could tell him how sorry she was that she’d been so pathetic in all of this. That she’d capitulated without so much as a whimper. She’d let him down.

And she hadn’t even said goodbye.

Chapter 17

He’d been punched in the gut once. By a bully at school, and had never forgotten it. The feeling of stunned helplessness. Gasping for air as his knees buckled. Looking up at the smirking boy, only one word in his mind. Why?

Spike hit a wall of disbelief as he charged into the room. He’d been expecting to find Angelus. Perhaps Buffy beside him, looking scared but defiant. His fists were already balled for the first blow, mind focussed on only one thing. Beat his grand-sire senseless, grab Buffy and get the hell out of there.

No time for posturing. No time for the luxury of a fight to the death. All he had to do was pound Angelus into submission, have it witnessed and he was free. Take Buffy and get as far away as possible, then never let her go again. A simple plan and one which he’d had every confidence of executing. After all, didn’t they have the most to fight for? Didn’t they have an edge that meant they couldn’t possibly lose? Didn’t love conquer all?

Not if someone was already dead. Even love couldn’t bring someone back from the grave.

Although he no longer needed to breathe, the blow of seeing her like that still floored him. He should have known she was still alive, should have been able to sense her weak pulse and the slow flow of her blood. But all he saw was a pale corpse laid out in blood-stained clothes. And for the first time since he’d become a vampire the sight of the crimson stains creeping across snow white cloth made him feel sick.

His demon roared so loudly that Spike put his hands over his ears to block it. The sound echoed around the room, drowning out William’s despair with its ferocity as he knelt, where he’d fallen in front of Buffy’s body.

Still shaking from the shock of it he reached out with his vampire senses and a trembling hand to discover that she was still alive. Still breathing, her heart still beating. Still with him.

Relief hit him like a ton weight and all he could do was lay down his head and take it in. A journey to hell and back can sometimes take only a few seconds, but the speed at which you travel is almost too much to survive. He’d talked himself up for the fight, filled himself with enough hate and arrived ready to take on the devil himself, but all that energy had gone into this. The shock of seeing her, perhaps already a vampire, perhaps just plain dead, had used up all his reserves.

‘Stop the bleeding,’ his demon urged him. ‘Do something.’

Spike lifted his head and scanned the two wounds. They weren’t mortal, he could see that now his vision had cleared, but his demon was right, he should do something. Ripping a strip from her petticoat he bound up her arm then pressed his hand against the bite on her neck. They’d known exactly what to do to her to fill her nightmares and taint her dreams for years to come. If she lived through this, that was.

He tasted Angelus as he licked the wound clean for her. Tasted them both, and felt them. The room was empty, but they were near. Buffy stirred and a weak scream escaped her when she saw him. Her hands scrabbled against his face and he caught them and held her still.

“It’s me, Buffy. Spike. Come to get you. You knew I’d come, didn’t you?”

Still she fought him so he moved away from the bites and the horrendous memories that she was reliving and Buffy immediately covered the one on her neck with her own hand.

“Buffy, it’s me.”

She dropped her head to the side and gazed at him wide-eyed, her fingers still clawing at the wound on her neck.

“Buffy, it’s Spike.”

Her face crumpled as she recognised him. Holding out her arms she pulled him down and held him too tightly for one so weak, as if she was drawing her strength from him. Her arms shook with the ferocity of her grip and Spike held her back, just as hard, sensing that was what she needed.

“Got you love.”

“Thank God. I’m sorry Spike.”

“Not your fault pet. I should have been more careful. Where is he?”

Spike laid her back down on the couch and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Congealed blood had matted a clump of it and she was still terribly pale. They’d taken a lot of blood, he could see that and she’d be weak for days. Her guarded expression also told him that that wasn’t all they’d done. She was hanging on to his arm grimly, her eyes on his face as if she still hadn’t properly taken in the fact that he was here.

Now wasn’t the time to ask what had happened. Whatever they’d done they were going to pay, there was no question of that. Spike felt the rage building again as he took in the pathetic state of the woman he loved. Who’d been terrified half out of her mind by someone he used to call his mentor. Someone he once aspired to emulate.

Spike faltered as he realised that he’d been witness to this scenario many times, only never from this perspective. How many husbands and lovers had cried over the loss or violation of their lady loves, because of him? He’d taken life without question, never stopping to think of the bigger picture. They were victims and he killed them. Their families and loved ones never entered his mind.

Buffy’s gaze flicked upwards and Spike sensed Angelus behind him, even though the man hadn’t made a sound.

“So, now you know,” the older vampire said. “Hurts doesn’t it? And so exquisite to watch. That was some performance William. There’s something quite special about the pain of loss. Cuts sharper than any knife.

As he spoke Angelus circled him slowly, keeping his distance and Spike watched him, his hand still in Buffy’s. The rage was building up again, but there was something else. An uncomfortable feeling that he was no better than Angelus really. Killing was killing and whether you did it fast or slow made no difference. The victim was still dead. What right did he have to cry because this time he was the one feeling the loss? Didn’t he deserve a long, hard look at what he was?

“She’s mine,” he said quietly. Now wasn’t the time to debate such things, all he wanted was to get them the hell out of there. “I’ve come to take her back.”

“Well, you see,” Angelus said. “That gives us a bit of a problem, because she’s mine too now. And I think you’ll find a sire’s bite supersedes that of a childe’s.” He raised his eyebrows as if Spike should have known that, then he picked up a silver cigarette box from a side table, flicked it open and offered it to him.

“I don’t give a shit about your hierarchy. She’s mine. You knew she was mine.”

Angelus put down the box and took himself a cigarette. “You’ve really never got it, have you?” The rasp of the match as he struck it against the side of the box made Buffy jump and clutch at Spike’s hand. He flicked her a glance and knew he had to get her out fast. There was a chance that Angelus hadn’t had her yet, but he would before he killed her, or more likely, turned her.

“Start thinking like a vampire for a change. It’s not just about the killing, If that’s all you do then you’ve missed the point.” Angelus sucked on the cigarette until the end glowed, flicked the ash and continued. “When you’re a vampire, you can have anything you want. Just reach out and take it. Yet,” he took another long drag. “You own nothing. What’s yours is mine first, you know that. And what’s mine belongs to the Master. Where do you think Darla is right now?”

Spike listened and felt his resolve returning. Let Angelus talk, he was fond of the sound of his own voice. The longer he talked, the more Spike felt the energy that had been punched out of him returning. Muscles were hardening and it was no longer shock that made them tremble. Buffy’s eyes grew wider as she realised what was happening, but when she tried to move he shook his head just a fraction to warn her to be still.

Angelus saw it too. “That’s right. Get mad. Get as mad as you like, you still won’t beat me. Have you ever?”

Spike rose slowly, feeling Buffy’s loss as she tried to hold onto him, but knowing he had to do this. And knowing that failure wasn’t an option.

“There’s always a first time,” he said taking off the policeman’s tunic. “And this it going to be it. Call in some witnesses.”

“Good grief, lad. Do you think I’m about to fight you here and now?” Angelus gave a sharp laugh. “That’s not how it goes.”

Spike unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and methodically rolled back his sleeves, all the while moving himself towards Angelus, who didn’t look the slightest bit concerned.

“How does it go then? Enlighten me.” He stopped just short of his grand-sire who’d moved to prop himself theatrically against the mantelpiece. Behind him Buffy struggled to sit up and Angelus nodded at her appreciatively.

“Quite the beauty, isn’t she? Especially like that.”

“Fuck the rules.” Spike moved instinctively to block Buffy from Angelus’ view, wishing he didn’t have to do this in front of her. His confidence was evaporating rapidly in the face of Angelus’ large body and impassive stare. Angelus was right, he’d never beaten him before, nor come any where near it. But then, he’d never been this motivated. “Fight me fair and square. Here, now,” he said.

Angelus crushed his cigarette into an ashtray and stepped forward. “Think lad, what you’re doing. There’ll be no going back from this.”

Spike tensed as Angelus squared up to him. “Suits me.”

“I’m happy to share.”

“I’m not. Fight me you bastard, I demand to be released from the family bond.” Spike took a swing but Angelus dodged it easily.

“I’m going to finish what you started, William. You think you’ve corrupted her? You haven’t seen anything yet?”

Spike charged him, aiming for the smug smile on his grand-sire’s face. Aiming to wipe it off once and for all. Buffy cried out as he rushed forward and in the split second of distraction Angelus landed him a punch to the jaw which dropped him to the ground.

This time he tasted his own blood before lunging again at Angelus’ legs. The vampire side-stepped neatly and returned a hard kick to his stomach. Spike felt a rib crack as he doubled up and Buffy screamed again.

Angelus crouched before him, gathering up the loose folds of his shirt with a twist so that it tightened around his neck. Even though he didn’t breathe, Spike still felt the instinctive choking reflex as the material closed around his throat.

Buffy tried to stand and Spike called out to her to stay back, torn in his desire to finish this and go to her.

“She’ll always be your biggest weakness,” Angelus said as if he was stating the obvious. “You’ve got to learn to detach, boy. You can’t let her go and that’s admirable, but it’s also holding you back. The fear of losing and what will happen to her if you do, that’s what’s going to stop you from winning.”

Spike knocked away Angelus’ hand and scooted back on his heels. “Are you going to fight me, or bore me to death?” he said wincing at the pain in his side. That, he could deal with, it either hurt or it didn’t. The other thing, the fear of losing? That was more real. More frightening.

Angelus backed away, giving Spike time to stand. Spike spared Buffy a glance. She was half lying, very still as if she knew her being there was making him lose his focus. Her eyes were large, all hope pinned on him, willing him to finish this.

“Does she know it all?” Angelus stood, arms folded casually. Waiting for his next move. “Young girls, that was our William’s thing,” he said turning to Buffy. “Which version of life as a vampire did he give you? Not the real one I’ll wager, judging by the look on his face. Have you the slightest idea what he’s capable of?”

He’d hardly finished the sentence before Spike had him down again. Buffy thought she knew what he was, but she didn’t have a clue really. Only knew what he’d told her. Yes, she needed to hear it, but not from Angelus, not like this. As he pinned Angelus to the ground and pounded into him with his fists he knew he was venting anger at himself as well as his grand-sire. For the horrible truth that had been his life for the past ten years, as well as what Angelus had done to Buffy.

And, finally he was totally focussed. Angelus tried to move, but Spike kept up his relentless battering. “You did that to me,” he told him, each word punctuated with the crack of flesh on flesh, uncaring that his own knuckles were broken and bleeding from the blows. “Drusilla made me into a vampire, but you made me into a monster.”

Both their demons were free now. Spike felt Angelus fighting back. He twisted away and landed a kick to Spike’s injured side, momentarily stopping his assault, but Spike picked himself up and just kept going. His demon, who’d always bowed to Angelus’ was tasting sweet victory at last, and it had scores to settle.

They both looked to the door as Drusilla entered the room. Angelus saw her first and Spike turned just in time to see the heavy marble statue she’d picked up making an arc towards the side of his head. He couldn’t dodge the blow in time, nor the second one which knocked him to the ground in a shower of bright flashes and dizzying stars.

Somewhere in the fog that was engulfing him Buffy screamed again and he thought he heard Angelus laugh. Or it could have been Drusilla. As he rolled and tried to get up, she brought the statue down again and he heard the crunch as his skull cracked. Felt the splintered bones driving into his brain.

“Naughty boy,” she said as she raised it again. “Bad, bad boy. Look what you did to daddy. Mummy has to punish you now.”

The words came in and out as Spike tried to rise and fend off her assault. Blood streamed from the wound, filling his eyes and his sight with it. And the sweet taste of triumph turned sour as he choked on it and spat it out. Angelus caught the next blow in mid-flow, twisting the statue out of Drusilla’s hand as he grabbed her around the waist.

“Enough, Dru. Don’t want him too badly injured, yet.”

The voice of authority stopped her in her tracks. Dru let go of the statue and went limp in his arms. “Did I do right?” she asked in a little-girl voice. “Did I help my daddy?”

Somehow Buffy had got herself across the room and her horrified face swam in and out of Spike’s vision as she dragged herself beside him.

Angelus let go of Dru. “You’re a good girl,” he told her as he pushed her aside, wiping at his torn mouth with the back of his hand. Savouring his victory as Spike lay stunned and half-conscious.

Buffy was a soft weight on his stomach as she laid down her head. She managed to find his hand and he heard her murmuring words that he couldn’t make out. They trailed away and it went very quiet. Dru and Angelus stood above him. Buffy pressed against him and, like some ghastly tableau, the moment froze and everyone was still.

Angelus could have stopped Dru at any time, Spike knew that. Knew that he’d let her hit him just enough to take him down and weaken him. He’d been right. In trying to be a man Spike had forgotten how to think like a vampire.

“There were supposed to be rules,” he managed to croak out. “You said there were rules.”

“Oh yes.” Angelus’ voice sounded thick and somewhere off in the distance. “I might have mentioned them. What are they now? One to one combat, Witnesses. Victor walks away. Vanquished pays the forfeit. Do you mean those?” Hitching his trousers at the knee, he crouched down and searched his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his face. “You mean those rules you don’t give a fuck about? Well, my lad, I have news for you. We’re more alike than you think, because I don’t give a fuck about them either.”

---------------------------------------------

Buffy thought that all there was left of the dream was to die right alongside him. She had no idea how she’d got herself across the room and there’d been a good chance that Drusilla would have killed her too. Just one blow would have seen to that. But she’d gone anyway.

Angelus pulled her up with him as Spike lay, eyes glazed and staring at the ceiling. A pool of dark red blood made a grisly halo around his head and, because he wasn’t breathing, he looked already dead.

She called his name and reached out for him, tangling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, but they slipped through as Angelus dragged her away.

“Take more than that to kill him,” he remarked casually, glancing down at Spike. “Don’t worry my little peach, he’ll be right as rain in a few weeks. If he lives that long.”

She stumbled weakly against him as he tugged on her hand, her stomach heaving. Too much blood, it seemed to be everywhere, painting her whole world red. Spike groaned and she saw him lift his hand, then drop it again. Before she could react Angelus had her in his arms and was striding towards the staircase, shouting something about William to the waiting minions. They scurried into the room and Buffy didn’t see what happened to him because Angelus was, by now half way up the stairs.

The world was still there, but Buffy didn’t feel part of it anymore. Reality had started to twist the day she’d met Spike and she’d gone with it, accepted and adjusted to it. Thought that with the things she’d seen, nothing could shock her anymore. But she was wrong. In the bizarre place she now inhabited it wasn’t the vampires and the monsters that made her want to run screaming into the night. It was the common, everyday things like separation and loss. Seeing a loved one in pain and knowing that they might die. Things from the real world, that ordinary folk have to deal with every day. They were still infinitely more terrifying.

She’d sat with Drusilla and Angelus, scared but with her spirit still intact, confident that she could endure anything they put her through. The pain of their bites would dull and the scars eventually fade. But seeing Spike so broken had plummeted her into a pit of despair. Knowing that there was little she could do to help him held her there. And the thought that he might die and she’d never see him again made her want to stay there forever.

Drusilla scurried after them and Buffy felt her slip her arm into Angelus’ as he negotiated the stairs.

"Are we going to turn her now?" she said with obvious excitement.

"Not yet, Dru. Look, why don't you go down and look after William, if you get my meaning. Make sure he's comfortable?"

"Want to stay with you."

"Not now, darlin'. Run and play with your dolls or something."

“Are you cross with me my Angel?”

Angelus stopped at the top of the stairs and held onto Buffy while he reached out for Dru with his other hand. “Of course not, Dru,” he said scraping a nail down her cheek. “Just want to be alone with this one for a while. Now be a good girl and bugger off.”

Dru growled when Angelus patted her on the bottom and shoved her away.

“Starting to annoy me, Dru, he warned. Want to have some fun before Darla comes back. Go amuse yourself with William, and be sure to tell him what I’m doing up here.”

“Darla isn’t going to like this.”

“Well, of course she isn’t. Why do you think I need to do this now?”

Buffy tried to struggle, but it really wasn’t any use, she was no match for the kind of strength he commanded.

Angelus left Dru standing on the landing as he shouldered open a bedroom door and Buffy felt the softness of the quilt as he dropped her onto the bed. She’d listened to the exchange between him and Dru and had heard the jealousy and resentment in Dru’s voice. Knew she had another reason to fear her now and hoped that she wouldn’t take it out on Spike.

Through half-closed eyes she watched Angelus strip off his blood-stained shirt and drop it to the floor. How much of it was Spike’s she couldn’t tell, it was all starting to blur and run together. She should do something, jump from the bed and fight her way to where he was. Hold on to him, be with him when he needed her and was in pain. But instead she was here and helpless. Swept along by a current too strong to swim against. Just conscious enough to know what was happening, but with no reserves to do anything but go with it.

The bed creaked as Angelus sat on the edge and his hand was surprisingly gentle as he touched her.

“What shall I do with you, Buffy?” he said, more to himself than to her. “Drusilla tells me you don’t want to be a vampire.”

Buffy rolled her head toward him and focused on his broad, hairy chest, thick neck and square jaw. Dark hair brushed his shoulders and in the dimly lit room, his eyes seemed as black as night. His fingers traced a line along her arm, making her tremble as they swept upward to the strap of her camisole. Buffy held her breath as he eased it down then bent and kissed her bare shoulder. With a sigh, he did the same to the other one until both her straps were hanging down and her breasts barely concealed by the thin cotton of her top.

“Ahh, Buffy. You taste so sweet,” he whispered in a voice heavy with arousal. “I can see why William didn’t want to turn you.”

It was just a physical act. She’d said it to herself, and to him, and creepy as his hand was on her skin, she found that if she kept that in mind, then she might be able to endure it after all.

“Men are all the same,” she told him as his fingers continued their exploration. “All they want is this.”

“Are we that transparent?” he said hitching himself up onto the bed so that he was lying beside her, his head propped on his elbow.

“Painfully so,” she said recognising the look of lust and want in his expression.

“I could just take it.”

“And you wouldn’t be the first man who’s said that to me.”

Angelus’ eyes narrowed. “So, that means you have an answer ready, no doubt.”

“Do what you want, you already know I care little for what happens to me.”

“Oh, I will, don’t worry about that. Give me that answer.”

It was his first sign of weakness towards her. She had no hope of beating him as Spike might, in a fight, but there was the slightest hint of agitation in his voice as he demanded that she tell him what he wanted to know. And it was her only advantage. With hardly the strength to lift her own arm this was a straw to clutch at, if only she could keep her nerve. Spike wasn’t dead yet, and neither was she. And that castle in Scotland was still there.

Angelus watched with a bemused expression, his brow creased as he tried to work out what she was thinking.

“Wouldn’t you prefer me to come willingly to your bed?”

Angelus arched an eyebrow. “That’s your answer?”

Buffy nodded and turned to stare back at the ceiling, but Angelus took her face in his hand and forced her back towards him.

“What kind of answer is that?”

She shrugged. “When was the last time a human gave herself to you from choice? It’s still there isn’t it? The lure of warm, willing flesh, rather than the cold indifference of a vampire.”

Angelus laughed and looked away. When he looked back he was composed, his face an impassive mask once more. “I like it when they struggle,” he said leaning close to her face. “Their cries of pain only excite me more, as yours will.” He sat up again and then suddenly he lunged at her pinning her arms above her head and dropping his full weight on her. “I’ll have you now shall I? Then you can see what your struggles do to me.”

“As you wish,” she said in a shakier voice than she would have liked and knowing that he could feel her heart hammering with fear. She couldn’t stop that, but she wasn’t going to give him any more satisfaction than she could help. And this, she did have control over.

His hand pulled roughly at her petticoats as he shoved them to her waist and the thin cotton of her drawers gave easily as he ripped them away.

Buffy kept very still suddenly aware that, just as she’d had power over Spike when she’d first met him, she might have here too, with Angelus. Monster though he was she could sense that there might be a place she might reach him. A place, that, if she went there, she might not return from, but there was no sacrifice she wouldn’t make to save Spike. That had already been decided.

His hand was jammed between her legs now, working at her soft flesh with his cold, probing fingers and she could feel how hard he was. How ready he was to take her, whether she agreed or not. He rubbed against her, grunted and groaned, threatened and swore, but his expression, instead of passion only held frustration. Buffy kept as still as she could as he tried to work a response from her, and she even managed to catch and hold his gaze, which only infuriated him more.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he ordered. “Fight me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have the energy, and even if I did, I wouldn’t.”

Angelus rolled away from her, threw her a dark glare then whacked the pillow beside her head so hard that it burst, spraying feathers into the air. Buffy jumped violently, then nearly choked as the feathers floated down and started to settle onto her face.

“Then I’ll take you downstairs and we’ll do this in front of William. We’ll see if you don’t fight when I have him tortured in front of your eyes.” He batted angrily at the floating feathers as he spoke. They settled onto his hair and body and Buffy almost laughed at the ludicrous picture he made.

“In that case, I will fight you. It’s quite simple really,” she replied fending off more feathers.

He caught her arm as she wafted the feathers away. “You’ll fight me for him, but not to save yourself. I don’t believe you’re that strong. Do you know who you’re dealing with here?”

Buffy sagged back against the pillows. The exchange was using up all of her precious little reserves, but she couldn’t afford to show any weakness now. The very fact that she was having this conversation was a miracle.

“Of course I do. You’re the great Angelus, Feared throughout the demon world. I’ll bow to you, give you what you want and participate willingly, if you let Spike go.”

Angelus snorted. “And you really think he’ll just quietly leave?”

“Tell him I want to stay, tell him I’ve fallen in love with you. Tell him what you like. Anything you need to make him go. Do you really want to see him dead?”

“I’ll miss the sex, have to say that.” Angelus smiled to himself. “No-one takes it like our William.”

Buffy faltered, then recovered herself. Something else that had never crossed her mind. Such things obviously existed, but Spike and Angelus? How?

Angelus laughed loudly at her stunned expression. “Oh my God, that’s priceless. Go look at yourself in the mirror.” He rolled his face towards her, a smirk still on his lips. “Never heard of buggery? Our William is quite the whore, don’t you know? Lovely firm arse. Nice and tight.”

He went off into another peal of laughter as Buffy covered her eyes with her hands in an effort to make the pictures of the two of them together go away. Eventually she took a deep breath and let them drop.

“It’s just a physical act,” she said. “That’s all sex without love is. A release. A moment of pleasure. It’s of no importance.”

“Lofty words, Buffy. You talk big for such a little one.”

“And you never seem to stop talking.”

“I could put your eyes out for saying that.”

“Then I wouldn’t be beautiful any more.”

Angelus sat up and raked back his hair. “You are going to make one hell of a vampire, do you know that? A natural, if ever I saw one. And you’re staying here with me. Darla will just have to put up with it.”

“But then I wouldn’t be Buffy any more. I’d just be another cold addition to your bed.”

Buffy had no idea where this was all leading. Angelus could turn on her at any moment, unleash the monster. Kill her in the blink of an eye. What if she’d got this wrong? What if he didn’t care a jot about her being human, why should he?

Except for the fact that he shouldn’t be looking at her the way he was. He shouldn’t even be thinking about his decision to turn her.

Only he was.

Bonds formed in times of adversity are often the strongest. At that moment she felt closer to Spike than she’d ever done, because her love had been tested and she’d come through. Even if all it did was keep Spike alive, she knew she could do this, for him. He wasn’t going to like it, but he would understand and still love her, she trusted him to do that.

And it was all she had so she waited, hardly breathing, while Angelus thought.

“No,” he said at last. “I’ll give you that. If I turned you, you certainly wouldn’t be Buffy any more.”

And with those words, he stood up, snatched a clean shirt from the chair and left the room without a backward glance.
-----------------------------

His mum used to sing to him. William had loved the old folk songs and his mother knew them all. Even when he’d gone well past the stage, he’d still enjoyed sitting at her knee and listening while she sang.

Spike let his eyes drift open as the song floated over him. Pain sliced through his head, sharp and penetrating. Being a vampire didn’t make it hurt less. As he tried to twist and sit up another pain, not quite as bad, cut into his side. Carefully, he laid his head back down and tried to remember why he was here, in a dark cellar on a narrow cot and chained to the wall.

It all came back in a rush. The memory of his failure. How he’d let her down. How his loving her enough to die for her still couldn’t save her.

The voice sang on as pain of a different kind filled him and he rolled his head to the side and focused on the source of it. “Mother?” he called out, already knowing it couldn’t be, but pain and sadness weighed so heavily on him that he was having trouble separating memory from reality. “Dru?”

She clicked her tongue at him in characteristic Dru fashion and walked towards him.

“Poor William,” she said standing by the bed. “What happened to you?”

Spike managed a croaky laugh at her look of concern. “You hit me, pet. Remember?”

“No, what happened to you? You used to be such a good boy for mummy.”

“I grew up, Dru. How bad is it?” It was an effort to talk, but if anyone could help him, Dru could. Even though she’d been the one to incapacitate him, her unpredictability was his only hope.

“Did I hurt you?” She tipped her head, her expression softening. Spike never could tell how genuine her feelings were, but it was something.

“Be a good girl and see what the damage is.”

She came closer and as she bent down to look he grabbed her wrist. “Where’s Buffy?”

Dru shook him off angrily.

“Little girl’s stolen my Angel. He’s going to turn her, make her like us. Then he won’t want me any more.”

A theatrical sniffle finished the tirade, but Spike heard the resentment in her tone. Dru had always been unnaturally possessive of her sire, part of the madness and also a kind of insecurity, he guessed. Like a child resenting a sibling more than a jealous lover. Only Darla took precedence over Dru.

It was worth latching on to.

“We don’t want that, do we, love? Let me take her away from here, you’ll never see her again. Then you can make Angelus forget all about her.”

“Why don’t we let him kill her, instead?”

“Because he won’t. You know he’s going to turn her, don’t you?”

“Little girl doesn’t want to be a vampire.”

Dru sat down on the edge of the cot and reached her hand towards his head. “Look at the mess I made, Spike. So pretty.”

“Make it better, Dru.”

“I could kill her for you. Then you’d come home, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I wouldn’t Dru. And if you kill her, Angelus will kill you.”

Dru sighed and for a moment, looked quite sane, and a little sad. “I know,” she said. Gentle fingers traced the outline of the hole she’d made then she brought her blood-covered fingers to her lips and sucked on them. “Sweet William,” she murmured appreciatively. “Do you think Angelus will let me turn her? Then she could be your sister.”

“No,” he said, patiently. “We don’t want her turned. Where is she Dru?”

“Took her to his bedroom, said he had to have her before Darla came back.”

Spike’s insides twisted at the words and images of past victims flooded his mind. Girls crying and whimpering with fear, Angelus could terrify them before he’d even laid a finger on them. Buffy was tough, but Angelus was a master.

“Unchain me, pet.” Spike pulled on the manacles, knowing they’d be vampire proof. “Go get the key.”

“Can’t do that Spike. You’ve been a naughty boy.” Dru stood up and looked around. “Where’s William gone?”

“You killed him, Dru. Try and focus will you?” He knew he was losing her and that she wasn’t about to unchain him, that had been too much to ask. But if she’d ever had any affection for him, now was the time to remind her of it.

She wandered off muttering to herself, every now and then moving her arm dramatically.

“Dru. I’ll take her away,” he said softly. “You’ll never see us again. Then you’ll have Angelus all to yourself.”

She turned suddenly, her eyes wide. “I know,” she said. “I know how it ends.”

He didn’t want to know. Whatever she’d seen, there was only one way this could end in his mind. “Get me some blood, Dru. I need to feed so I can heal and beat Angelus.”

“No.” She advanced back on him, waving her finger. “No beating Angelus. Bad boy.”

“I won’t kill him, pet. Just need to get away. Please help me.”

Vampires have no souls. No consciences. Nothing left of their humanity. They weren’t supposed to be able to love and perform selfless acts. Weren’t supposed to feel concern for another being. The world was theirs. They moved through it taking what they wanted, when they wanted it. The past was of no concern and the future stretched out to infinity so all that mattered was here and now.

Spike was proof that it wasn’t true. That in a world of right and wrong, good versus evil it was possible to walk both paths. His past was creeping up on him, gathering at the edge of his vision. It wasn’t remorse, but there was something which made him see, for the first time, just how long the line of his victims was. And virtual immortality had made him treat the future with contempt. Why did he need to worry about planning and doing things when he had all the time in the world?

Not any more. If Buffy wanted to remain human they’d only have a lifetime together. Not enough time, but all they were going to get, and he couldn’t afford to waste a single day. Every day without her was a day to regret, a day to remember after she’d gone and left him to face forever alone.

The break in his voice stopped Dru and again she gave him one of her searching stares and the light in her eyes glowed just a little brighter as did his very small feeling of hope that she might help him. If Spike was an anomaly it was because of her. As he’d been left with some lingering traces of his humanity, then so had she. The madwoman created by Angelus had kept a tenacious hold on the vampire that she’d been forced to become, the demon never succeeding totally in controlling her.

She sat herself on the cot, near to his head and arranged her skirts carefully around her. “People used to come for miles around,” she said inspecting the palms of her hands. “Healing hands, that’s what they called them. Priest said it was a gift from God and I must use it wisely.”

Spike felt the energy as she reached for his wound and hovered her palm above it.

“Then one day the devil came and made me into a vampire,” she continued. “But God didn’t want his gift back. Why would a vampire want the gift of healing?”

“It’s called irony, pet. Just keep doing that.”

He was using her, she probably knew it, and perhaps part of him was still able to feel sorry for her, despite what she’d done. She was just as much a victim as anyone at the end of the day.

The healing energy flowed through him and with it came a renewed hope that they would get through this. Buffy was expecting a castle in Scotland and even if she didn’t get that, he was determined to give her part of the dream. William had always wanted a house with a balcony. Somewhere he could sit at night and look out over the city lights, or up at the starry sky. Somewhere to sit with his lady love and read her his awful poetry.

He wasn’t sure if it was Dru’s touch that was sparking the pictures in his mind, but he could see them so clearly they almost felt like memories rather than dreams.

“Drink,” she said pulling back her collar and sliding to the floor so that she was kneeling by the bed.

Sire’s blood. Did she have any idea how potent that was? Or was she just being her usual mercurial self? Spike didn’t stop to question it further. It was exactly what he needed to heal and his demon was already there urging him to get on with it before she changed her mind.

She gave a small moan as his fangs pierced her neck and as he fed, greedily taking as much as he could, he felt her body responding. His did too, he couldn’t help it. Sire’s blood was the ambrosia of the vampire world and there was no ecstasy like it. His fingers dug hard into her shoulders as he held her in place, knowing that Angelus would probably half-kill her for letting him do this. But he didn’t care. His strength and power was coming back and that was all that mattered.

“I’ll always know where you are, my William. You can’t hide from me.”

Spike let go and slipped back into human face, shaking all over from her gift. “It’ll be our little secret, yes?” he said wiping the blood from his lips. “You like secrets, don’t you Dru?”

She nodded and primly readjusted her collar. “Darla’s back. Can you hear them?”

He listened. Voices, somewhere upstairs, he couldn’t tell where, but the exchange was heated. Angelus and Darla no doubt having one of their infamous ‘spats’.

“She’s very cross.” Dru giggled. “Angelus thinks he’s head of the family, but he’d not is he? Darla’s going to put him right.”

Spike lay back as Dru walked away. “Thanks,” he called after her, but she didn’t turn, or acknowledge him. The door closed after her and he heard the scrape of the key as it turned in the lock, and then her retreating footsteps as she climbed the stairs. Another bang as the cellar door closed. Then it was silent.

Except for the voices. Spike concentrated hard, his vampire senses enhanced by the sire’s blood, and listened.

Darla was angry, he could hear that. Angelus on the defensive. And it had nothing to do with finding Buffy here, Darla didn’t give a twig who Angelus took to his bed. What she did care about was her precious Master, her own sire who was so old that his features were no longer human. The real head of the family and the Order of Aurelius to which they all belonged. They were the cream of the vampire crop, or so he told them, Spike had always found him a boring prat but he’d bowed and paid his dues when he’d had to, as Darla always did.

The master liked his protocol. Liked everything done properly according to the Vampire Code. And Angelus was getting that code recited to him in great detail right now. A public challenge had been made, and there were rules. Rules which the Master expected to be obeyed. They weren’t some fly-by-night renegade band, they were the Order of Aurelius and all the gobbledygook that went with it.

Spike would get his fight. That made him shudder with relief. And the victor would get Buffy. More relief that Darla hadn’t just killed her on sight for being the cause of this rift in the family, but that meant that this time there would be no room for error. He was being given a second chance and it would be his last one.

All he could do now was let the sire’s blood do its job and heal him. And think of Buffy. Poor Buffy, alone and terrified. Just a girl shouldering burdens too heavy for any human to carry. But she would, because she was Buffy and she was far stronger than she’d ever know.

Sire’s blood. There was no ecstasy like it.

Except for that he’d found in the love of a young woman he’d picked up by chance one night in a dark alley. A woman he still may have to die for.

Buffy was his salvation. He only hoped he would be strong enough to be hers.

Can I Keep You?

by candyknicks

Chapter 18

There was only one way to get through this and that was to believe with everything she had that Spike would win. And by winning, he would save them both.

She sat on the edge of the hard bed that made up virtually all the furniture in the small attic room in which she’d been locked and wondered why God should have brought him this far along the road to redemption, only to abandon him to the devil after all. It didn’t make any sense.

Lying back, she closed her eyes. Perhaps they’d been destined to meet in that alley that night and it wasn’t just chance? This far along the road she was starting to see that this might be part of a pattern in some grand design. It was almost as if Spike was being tested, that in loving and protecting her he was being given a chance to show that he was still worthy. But of what? A place in heaven? Even though he’d never said it, she knew that to be with her in the afterlife was what he wanted above everything. But how do you atone for ten years of murder and mayhem? How could anyone ever justify Spike a place in heaven if they read a cold, hard account of what he’d done?

They couldn’t. Buffy fought back the tears. Spike’s crimes would fill a book with pages that would disgust and horrify. That would leave the reader in no doubt as to the ending. Until they got to the last few chapters. Weren’t all the best tales those with a twist in them? Somewhere along the line Spike had made a decision to change, he probably didn’t even know when himself, and God must have seen something worth saving because things had been set in motion to give him that chance.

The dull throbbing in her head increased. She’d lost track of the hours and it was dark now and had been for some time. Apart from some dry biscuits and water she’d been given no other food and she was to stay in this room until Spike, or Angelus came to claim her. She was being treated as no more than an object being fought over by two disputing parties, and Darla had been particularly cold and calculating about it. Buffy would die instantly if either Angelus or Spike tried to circumvent the law again. It would all be done properly and in front of The Master, whoever he was.

So all she could do now was wait and believe that good was always destined to prevail over evil. That light would always drive away the darkness, and that love could change the very nature of the universe itself. Spike’s soul was still out there somewhere, and she’d been sent to help him find it. If he could regain what he’d lost then they would be together.

Buffy prayed like she’d never prayed before. For Spike and also for herself, for her own immortal soul. For them to be together Spike needed to find his soul again, but there was another way, an infinitely more terrifying way.

He could regain his soul, or she could lose hers.

----------------------------------

The Master was every bit as boring as he remembered him. Spike tried his best to look humble, bending his knee and bowing his head at all the right moments. Angelus did the same, although Spike didn’t miss the slight swagger as he went up to pay his respects. Angelus wasn’t known for his obedience and it was lucky for the both of them that an ancient curse had bound the Master to this underground cave otherwise neither of them would have got away with their behaviour of the past few years.

“Both of you are a disgrace,” he announced waving his claw-like fingers dramatically. “There are ways of doing things that are not, and never will be open to question. I deny permission for either of you to leave the order, that is not open for debate. You are, and always will be a part of this family, no matter that neither of you seem to have any ideas of loyalty, nor any pride in what you are.”

And so it went on for the next half an hour. After a while Spike stopped listening and concentrated instead on what he was about to do. He was going to win, that was the only option. Angelus knelt beside him, a small smirk on his lips as he stared blatantly at the Master. They were supposed to avert their eyes, but for all his pomposity, the Master was a pragmatist who knew that, with his limited power, this was the most he was ever going to get out of them. The only reason Angelus was here at all was for the chance to show off, and because of Darla’s insistence.

Spike sneaked a look around. Word must have got out that there was a challenge afoot judging by the crowds lining the walls. Just what the Master needed to bolster his already over-inflated ego. More minions to bow and scrape to him and tell him how wonderful he was and how lucky they were to be a part of this.

“And so we come to the disputed property.” The Master leaned over as Darla filled him in on the details. He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “You both claim ownership of this human female.” He curled back his lip with disdain as he said it. “Is that correct?”

“There’s no dispute,” Angelus said calmly looking Spike in the eye. “This upstart is under the delusion that she’s his when my claim is clear for all to see.”

Spike only just stopped himself going for Angelus there and then. He tensed every muscle in his body to keep himself in place and calm. “My claim was there first,” he said in a voice that was shakier than he would have liked, but here was Angelus playing his mind games already. Trying to goad him into losing his temper.

Darla whispered to the Master again and he nodded.

“A sire’s bite will always override that of a childe’s, you should know that William. Why has this even been bought before me?” He looked around, a suitably insulted expression on his face as if he was far too important to have been bothered with so trivial a matter. Darla soothed and petted him and he sighed deeply.

“Very well, I understand a challenge has been made?”

“Bloody right there has.” Spike stood up and jabbed a finger at Angelus. “I’ll fight him here and now. Prove beyond a doubt that this woman is mine.”

“And I’ll dispute that with one arm tied behind my back.” Angelus stood too, spread his arms wide and appealed to the crowd. “Does this look like a fair fight? I mean, really.” He inclined his head at Spike who was still covered in blood from his injury, and the crowd burst into rowdy laughter.

The cat-calls began. Whistles and jeers, fingers pointing, arms waving as the crowd whipped themselves up for the fight. The Master tried to shout them down, but already sides were being taken, bets placed. And the chant was taken up, Angelus’ name mainly, reverberating around the room. “Tell you what, my lad,” Angelus told him. “I’m happy to share her with you, after I’ve had my fill of her, of course. Can’t say fairer than that now, can I?”

“And I’m happy to kill you for her,” Spike said through gritted teeth. “And because I’m a generous sort, I’ll make it quick.” Spike turned to the crowd. “Can’t say fairer than that, can I?”

They all fell about again. Spike knew how this worked. Four people at the most were here because of vampire tradition, or any respect for it. The rest were interested in nothing but the feeding frenzy. They were here to see blood shed and hopefully a gory death. Spike had watched humans fighting it out for entertainment, but they never lasted very long. Two vampires on the other hand, that was worth being here for and would provide a spectacle that would be talked about for years to come.

Dru clapped her hands with all the glee of a child at the circus and Darla stood, emotionless, beside the Master as they waited for the crowd to calm down again. Angelus shot him a glare and flicked back his hair and Spike tried to focus on only one thing. Winning.

He tried to ignore the odds. The fact that he still hadn’t beaten Angelus in a fight and the pain in his barely-healed skull. The sickening thought of what would happen to both him and Buffy if he lost.

As they were led away to prepare, he had only one picture in his mind. Buffy, back at the house waiting for him. Pinning all her hopes on him, but also lending him strength. The best preparation he could do for this was to remember that she needed him as much as he needed her. He’d helped her to cheat death and she’d helped him to believe in himself. In the ebb and flow of things it was his turn to shoulder the burden again. And so it would be for the rest of their time together. If he got through this she’d be waiting and then he’d be able to lay down his head and rest awhile.

All the crowd saw was two vampires facing each other in an arena from which only one would leave alive. Fighting to possess a human who would either become a tasty snack or immortal, like them. It was all they saw because none of them could comprehend what was really happening in front of them. None of them saw the man behind the monster. None of them saw the thing that made the difference in this.

Spike was going to win because he had something Angelus would never have. He still had William. William, who now quietly stepped forward once more and took his place beside the demon. Spike had been wrong to push him back, you don’t see clearly in the dark, you just lose your way and hate and rage are heavy and hold you in place so that you can’t move. William took the demon’s hand and showed him the way.

Forget how much he hated Angelus and remember how much he loved Buffy.

Pick up the sword and end this now.

---------------------------------------------

Time ceased to have any meaning for Buffy. She lay on the bed, eyes focussed on the door. It would open sooner or later and then she’d know whether it was to be the dream, or the nightmare. And with every moment that passed the questions in her head increased. Where was he? Why didn’t he come? What had happened to him?

It was easy to tell herself that he would win, but desperately wanting to believe that wasn’t enough. The cold voice of reason told her that he was injured and Angelus had all the advantages right now. Spike would do his best, but it was all he could do.

Terror froze her mind and the walls of her prison closed in on her. The bites ached where the soft scabs pulled at the skin, and the corset, which she was still wearing, dug into her ribs. Her efforts to take it off only succeeded in tightening and knotting the laces, further imprisoning her and for a moment she lost all sight of reason.

Running across the room, she threw herself at the door and thumped on it with her fists, screaming until she was hoarse. If Spike was in the house he’d hear her, at least. And he’d know that she was still alive, still defiant. Clawing at the bites did nothing but re-open them and cover her with more blood, but, when she collapsed into an exhausted heap onto the floor she did feel better. More focussed. Back on the bed, she concentrated on a positive outcome until eventually, exhaustion claimed her.

Somewhere, in the murky depths of her bloodstained dreams she heard the scrape of a key in a lock. Her heart was already hammering in panic as she struggled to wake up, already aware that this was the moment she’d been both looking forward to and dreading. She half sat, propped on one elbow as she pushed back her tangled hair and stared at the door.

All she saw was Angelus. Even before the door opened she saw him and no matter how hard she tried. Spike’s face wouldn’t come. The door crashed back and he walked into the room, carrying what looked like a dress, and threw it onto the bed.

“Put that on,” he said. “Master says we’re to bring you.”

It was the voice that got through to her, eventually. Not Angelus, which was such a relief that her knees turned to water. But not Spike either, so the ordeal wasn’t yet over.

The man was looking at her with blatantly appreciative eyes. Again, a demon hovered just out of reach, and again she felt it. He shoved the dress into her lap and waited.

“Why does the Master want me?” She stared at the rich brown silk of the dress as she spoke. Whose was it? Drusilla’s? Darla’s? Some poor victim’s?

“You’re the prize, lady. Fight’s started, I think. Don’t want to miss it, do we?”

“Are they fighting now?”

“Get on with it, will you.” The young vampire leaned forward and whispered close to her ear. “Want me to help you?”

Buffy clutched the dress to her as her mind raced on to what Spike was doing at this very moment. The vampire reached out a hand, but she batted it away.

“The Master will have something to say if you touch me again,” she told him, never doubting that was true. “I will get dressed, just give me a moment.”

The vampire’s eyes flashed gold, but he backed away, his hands held up in front of him. “You’re not to leave my sight, so get on with it,” he said curtly. Then he leaned against the wall, folded his arms and watched her while she slipped into the garment and stumbled over the buttons with shaking fingers. It was very similar to the black silk she’d worn for the journey and there were a few stains that could have been blood on the bodice. She tried not to think about the girl who’d worn this before her, nor about her fate and whether she was to join her.

In a moment of madness she tried to give the vampire the slip, but he caught her easily, dragging her downstairs to the waiting coach and bundling her into it. Another vampire joined them, one she recognised from the previous journey and they set off into the night.

Buffy had no idea what time it was. The sky was dark, but it felt like the early hours. London was quiet as they made their way out of town and into what looked like countryside. She shivered in the chill air as she tried to imagine what the Master would be like. An even worse example of a vampire than Angelus she decided. And he’d probably live in some spooky mansion in the middle of nowhere. If Spike didn’t win this fight then Buffy had no illusions that she would ever see the outside world again. Not as a human anyway.

And she soon discovered that there was only so much terror a body can take before it decided that enough was enough. How could the Master be worse than Angelus? What could he do to scare her more than she already was? There probably was something, but just then she couldn’t think of anything to match the worry of wondering who’d won the fight. Her nerves were in shreds just thinking about it and the nearer the carriage got to its destination the nearer she got to her answer.

Anxiously she strained to see where they were going, but when the carriage stopped, it was in the middle of nowhere. Or so she thought. The vampires jumped down and indicated her to do the same, then she was manhandled towards a thicket of trees which hid a rocky outcrop. They called out and were answered by another male voice and when Buffy stumbled forward, pushed by the vampire’s insistent hand, she realised that they were standing at the very narrow entrance of a cave. Not at all what she’d been expecting and she couldn’t help turning to her vampire guard and giving him a quizzical look.

He grinned back at her. “Master’s sort of stuck here, some ancient curse or other. Can you hear them? Sounds like they’ve started.”

Buffy couldn’t hear a thing, but then again she didn’t have the benefit of vampire hearing.

“He’s going to kill him, no bother. Got me bets placed.” The vampire guarding the entrance held up a scribbled note. “Best get in there quick,” he said to Buffy’s guard. “Before they close the book.”

“Bet on Spike,” Buffy suddenly cut in. “You’ll make a fortune.”

“You really think he’ll win?” The vampire took her arm and steered her down a rocky corridor, closely followed by his companion. “You’re mad. Have you seen Angelus when he’s angry?”

“I don’t need to,” she said running to keep up with him. “I just know Spike will win.”

“What, you a witch or something? Got the sight have you?”

“Yes, I am a witch,” Buffy told him, feeling the kind of boldness that comes when you’ve hardly anything left to lose. “And if you’re not careful I might yet turn you into a horned toad.”

The vampire dropped her arm momentarily, then snatched it up again, angrily.

“That’s enough of that. You’re no witch, now shut up.”

She could hear it now. Cries, chanting, cheering. The clash of steel on steel. A collective gasp, silence followed by another roar.

“I want to see,” she said, lunging in the direction of the noise, but the vampire tightened his grip and dragged her away.

“You’re not to show your face until the Master calls for you. He likes to do the prize-giving and stuff, makes him feel important.” He opened a door, revealing a small, windowless room and threw her inside. Buffy lost her footing as she stumbled and fell to the earth floor and the door closed behind her. She jumped up immediately and ran to it, but it was already locked.

There was no point in trying to beat it down, no point in crying for an outcome she had no influence over. All she could do was wait and trust in Spike. It was in his hands now, and his alone. She couldn’t even pray, even though she had been just a few hours before. It was almost as if the heaven itself was holding its breath as it waited with her, for the outcome.

Perhaps she had no right to ask God to help, but she hoped he was watching. Hoped that he’d see what Spike was trying to do. And maybe, if Spike did come through this, then God would take pity on them and let them have some happiness.

As she leaned her cheek against the rough wood and strained to hear what was going on she brought to mind every good deed that Spike had done for her since she’d met him and she pictured Spike fighting for both of their lives. And she tried as hard as she could to send him the pictures in her mind. He was so close yet so far away. She could almost feel what he was going through, but she couldn’t touch him, or help him or do anything but this.

“Just remember that I love you,” she whispered.

------------------------------------------

Angelus couldn’t decide whether he should kill Spike or not. After nearly an hour of fighting the younger vampire was tiring. Both of them were well blooded and covered in cuts and Spike’s head injury was now bleeding freely, the blood dripping over his bare back and shoulders. He lunged, slashed wildly and lost his footing, falling with a grunt. Angelus thrust with his sword, Spike rolled and the sword stabbed into the dirt floor, missing him by a hair. Spike was up and onto him as he pulled it out. His blade scraped Angelus’ side, drawing blood and Angelus returned him a diagonal slash to his chest that parted the skin in a neat, and judging by Spike’s expression, very painful cut.

Angelus grinned and wiped a finger over his own cut. “For each one, you’ll get two, or three,” he said sucking the blood from his finger. “She’s here, can you feel her?”

Spike looked around. Angelus took advantage of the distraction slashing at Spike’s chest again and opening up another wound. “Don’t want to have to kill you, boy,” he said throwing the sword from hand to hand. “I’ll miss that arse of yours, so I will.”

Spike stabbed at him again, feinting to the right then twirling round and bringing the sword hard against Angelus’ side. The crowd let out a collective gasp and for a moment the sword remained embedded as Angelus stared down at it in disbelief.

“Take a good look,” Spike said with a snarl. “You won’t be seeing it again.” He pulled out the sword and stepped back as Angelus clamped his hand to his side. “She’s not here. I’d know if she was here.”

Angelus fought against the pain as Spike circled. “Had you going though, didn’t I?” he said. “And she will be brought here, probably made to watch.” Angelus suddenly lunged forward span around and sliced across Spike’s sword arm, just above the wrist. “When I kill you.”

Spike dropped his sword with a yell. Angelus was in like a flash, kicking it across the arena. Spike put his head down and charged him, ducking under the slashing arc of his blade and hitting him square in the stomach with his head. A vampire couldn’t be winded, but the momentum knocked them both down. Spike reached for his sword, but Angelus rolled them both so that he was on top and landed a punch that glanced across Spike’s jaw. He couldn’t get the angle for a decent stab, but he could hit Spike where it hurt the most. Grabbing a handful of his hair he smashed Spike’s head against the floor, showering the dirt with a bright splash of red, then repeated the action as Spike flailed at him with his hands. He felt the satisfying give of barely-mended bones and his demon roared out its victory in time to the cries of the crowd.

Spike tried to rise but Angelus levered himself up and pinned him down with a knee to the chest. “Looks like this is it, Spike, my boy,” he said and reversed the weapon so that the hilt was facing downwards. Spike twisted his head as Angelus brought it down onto his face. It caught the cheekbone, crushing it to a splintered mess. Spike coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood as Angelus stood. Replacing his knee with his boot he leered down at his grand-childe.

The crowd started clapping, taking up the chant, and the words kill, kill, reverberated around the room. Angelus glanced at the Master for permission to continue, thinking that he might as well keep on the old vampire’s good side and chuckling inwardly when he saw that he had his rapt attention. Darla looked a little relieved, he thought and Dru was crying and laughing at the same time.

“Well, lad,” he said deftly reversing the sword once more and holding it in a two-handed grip over Spike’s neck. “Any last words?”

“I love you.”

Angelus frowned as Spike choked out the words and spat more blood. Then he let out a sharp laugh. “Bit late to be telling me that now, isn’t it?”

“I love you too, always will.” Spike spoke again, louder this time so that the crowd, that had fallen silent for the killing blow, strained forward to hear what he was saying.

He seemed to come from nowhere. One moment victory was in Angelus’ hand, the next he was stumbling backwards and the sword, on which he’d had such a firm grip, was spiralling up towards the ceiling. They both watched as it made a graceful arc and fell back down towards them. Angelus lunged for it, but Spike got there first, snatching it out of the air and twirling it in his fist.

“You’re right,” he said. “She is here, now.”

Angelus staggered back, more from the shock of Spike’s unexpected move than anything. A deathly silence now lay over the place as Spike faced him. Disbelief at what he was seeing made Angelus slow. He spotted Spike’s discarded sword and realised too late that he should be going for it.

“I guess she’s waiting for me,” Spike said calmly. He shook his head and laughed to himself. “Doesn’t do to keep a lady waiting, does it?” He stepped forward as Angelus went for the sword, looking him straight in the eye. “Just one thing left to do before I go.”

How the hell is he even standing?

It was Angelus’ last coherent thought before Spike struck. Angelus dived for the fallen sword and Spike caught him in mid air, driving the sword straight through his chest with a two-handed grip. Right up to the hilt. Straight through his heart. Dropping him with nothing more than a surprised gasp. The sword snapped as he landed on his back, the remainder protruding from his chest.

Waves of black swamped him as hell whispered to him.

Soon, it said. Your place is ready. The fire stoked up nice and high.

And Angelus felt the first real fear he’d ever felt since becoming a vampire.

He passed out screaming at the devils that had come to drag him away. And Spike’s face was the last one that he saw.

----------------------------------

Spike fell to his knees beside Angelus. The roaring of the crowd only marginally louder than the roaring in his head. They were on their feet to a man now, lauding him and crying out his name. Calling for Angelus’ death, when just a few moments ago they’d been calling for his.

A piercing shriek cut the air and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dru being held back as she struggled to get to her precious sire. Darla looked in shock, her mouth set in a bitter line, but she stayed beside the Master, observing protocol to the bitter end.

Angelus lay, unmoving, before him, blood pumping from a wound that would have been mortal, had the blade been made of wood and there was a decision to make. The killing blow to administer.

Spike never really knew what stopped him. The Master waved his hand, giving permission for him to continue. He was well within his rights to end it right there and then. To free himself from the threat of Angelus once and for all.

But something stayed his hand. Perhaps it was just a desire not to sink to his grand-sire’s level. To show the world that this Spike was better than that. That he’d learned a thing or two since meeting Buffy and he’d never be the same again.

It was completely lost on them, of course. This audience would never understand what they were seeing here.

Spike looked around at their puzzled faces which were all too soon turning to anger. Hisses and boos filled the air and shouts of coward, but Spike managed a smile for them.

‘We choose not to kill him?’ his demon asked.

‘We do,’ William replied. ‘Because we remember what mercy is.’

‘How does he deserve mercy?’ the demon replied.

‘He doesn’t,’ William said quietly. ‘That’s what makes this so hard. Yet we choose to give it, freely.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I know,’ William said. ‘But she will.’

“So, William.” The Master leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “How will he die? We all await your decision.”

He could barely stand and the euphoria of winning was fast draining out of him. More than anything he needed to get Buffy away as quickly as possible. And he needed to give Dru and Darla something to distract them while they got away. They’d both nurse Angelus back to health, he knew that, but a shattered vampire heart wouldn’t mend quickly, it was a vampire’s most vulnerable spot.

Spike leaned over the body and ripped back the collar. He needed to heal, his injuries were bad, he knew that so he took from Angelus what he needed most. His blood. His fangs pierced Angelus’ skin and to the appreciative grunts of the fickle crowd he drank and kept on drinking until he’d drained him of almost every drop.

Both Dru and Darla rushed forward as he stood up and backed away, feeling more powerful than he’d ever done. When he raised his hand it was shaking uncontrollably and out of the corner of his eye he saw Buffy’s blonde head as she was ushered towards the Master.

She’d seen him. The look on her face was one of shock, and not just because he’d survived. Spike turned away, not trusting himself to be near her right now, but the Master was calling his name. Hands on his shoulders were urging him forward and there was Buffy, her eyes huge as she took him in.

And he knew what he had to do.

----------------------------------------------

Buffy wasn’t sure what had survived the fight. Her relief that it was Spike who was still standing as she was taken into the room was short-lived when she glimpsed his face. The demon was in full force and she could feel the energy coming off him, but there was something in his eyes that she’d ever seen before.

Power. More than she’d ever seen in him, and barely contained in a dangerously fragile shell. As he stood and soaked up the crowd’s acclaim he looked as if he was about to burst out of his skin. And he was trying to avoid her gaze, even though she desperately sought his. The Master’s hands on her barely registered as she searched for the Spike she knew.

The noise reached a deafening crescendo and she could barely make out the words. More bets were being taken as she was pushed forward into the arena towards Spike and she realised with sinking heart what it was they were betting on now.

Where he’d been avoiding her, now he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Still in demon face he pinned her to the spot as he stalked towards her to the cries of,
turn her, and Buffy could do nothing but stare back at him and wait. This was the ultimate test of her love for him and she decided there and then that if she was going to be killed then she wanted Spike to do it. That thought calmed her and stopped her from running. So many times since she’d met him she’d wanted to run, but had been glad she’d stood firm. It’s too easy to run away from your demons, so much harder to face them. Sometimes she didn’t know where she got the courage from, but she found it, because he was worth it.

She saw it as he stopped in front of her and took her by the shoulders. Something in his eyes that told her he hadn’t abandoned William after all, as she’d feared he would. A plea for understanding at what he had to do, and she heard the message. Whatever he had to do to save face, and survive this she needed to let him do. Trusting someone so completely always involves some fear and her hand trembled as she reached up and pushed the hair away from her neck.

One of the things she’d learned since meeting Spike was to look beyond. To see past the superficial and look deeper, for the truth. Spike was more than just a monster, but he was also more than a man too. She’d learned to accept that, as she accepted it now.

His eyes widened fractionally as she moved her hair and she thought she saw gratitude there. His demon would always want to turn her, make her like him. She could only hope that it remembered how much she wanted to remain human.

The crowd burst into a round of cheering and applause as Spike’s fangs sank into her neck. Buffy heard it somewhere in the background of her mind as he drank and she felt the familiar frenzy as her blood responded. He finally pulled back in response to a slight, panicked struggle that she couldn’t stop. His grip loosened and he muttered the word sorry as he released her.

“Nearly done,” he whispered as he pushed back the hair from the other side of her neck. “Need to overwrite their claims.”

She gave him a brief nod and managed to keep still despite the dizziness that was fast overtaking her. It didn’t help that her breathing was coming in shallow gasps and her legs felt as if they were made of rubber. What did help was that it was Spike doing this and not Angelus as it could so easily have been, and that soon they would be free.

The unhealed bite was still tender and it hurt badly when he cut through the bloody scab, but he did it carefully, exposing her neck to the crowd when he’d satisfied himself that Angelus’ claim was no more. Then he pressed his bleeding wrist against it. She had no idea what the symbolism of that was, but the crowd murmured their approval. He covered Dru’s bite in a similar manner, then his own on her other wrists and it was done.

Pieces of paper floated all around them as he picked her up and, without looking back, marched from the ring. Dru and Darla were still attending to Angelus, both of them trying desperately to get him to drink from them, and Buffy realised for the first time that he was still alive.

Spike slipped back to human face as he saw her looking.

“Don’t ask me why,” he said. “I hardly know myself.”

“I don’t have to ask,” she told him and leaned her head against his shoulder. “That is the most amazing thing I’ve seen you do so far. I think heaven is breathing again.”

He managed a small smile for her. A little sad, as if he couldn’t quite believe that heaven would be interested in his insignificant efforts to prove that he was more than the monster he appeared to be. Buffy held on to him and pressed herself against his bare chest that was still slippery with his blood.

There would always be blood. It was part of who he was, and part of who she was too now. His had stopped flowing, but it seeped into her clothes and onto her skin, mixing with hers and binding them together in a knot that would never be untied.

He stopped only once as they made their way out of the cave, their progress impeded by vampires who wanted to shake his hand or pat him on the back. Setting her down he picked up his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head, then he took Angelus’ jacket and searched through the pockets. Enough money to see them through the next few weeks at least. Most of it probably Spike’s anyway. Someone ran up to them as Spike slipped the too-large, jacket on and pressed another pile of banknotes into them.

“Collected these from the ring,” he said looking up at Spike with obvious hero-worship. “Master says you can have some. For being so entertaining like.”

Spike pocketed the money without a word, turned and left.

The coach was still waiting, the driver scrabbling up to do their bidding as they appeared. Spike put her inside and climbed up beside her after shouting instructions to him. And it was only then, when he flopped into the seat and lay back with a groan, that she realised how badly injured he was. The strength he’d shown at the end of the fight seemed to be draining out of him before her eyes. In the dim, early morning light she could see that there was nothing left and it was her turn now, to be strong.

“Thank you,” she whispered cradling his face in her hands.

He looked back at her, bleary eyed, and she heard him mutter, “you’re welcome ” before his arm looped around her neck and he pulled her in for a kiss.

Surprisingly passionate for one so weak, but he’d always have the energy to tell her this.

“Love you,” he said with a tired, lop-sided smile.

“I know.” Buffy wiped his lips with her thumb, cleaning away Angelus’ blood. Anxiously, she smoothed back his hair, skimmed over his wound and felt a small ripple of panic when she saw how much blood there was.

“It’ll heal,” he told her. “Just need you to look after me for a while.”

“Always, Spike.”

He nodded in agreement and when he took her bloodstained hand and proceeded to lick it clean for her with slow strokes of his tongue her body started to respond in what was probably not the most appropriate manner, considering his injuries.

“Not sure I’m up to that right now,” he said picking up on it with a chuckle. “You might have to give me a day or so.”

Buffy settled him onto her breast and leaned back into the corner of the carriage. She couldn’t see a day going by without Spike making love to her, no matter what state he was in. And she’d always want him to be her one and only lover. Neither her brother, nor Angelus had taken that from her and she thanked God for it. Spike was the first and he would be her last.

He’d fallen asleep, so she closed her eyes too. They were together now for whatever lifetime the fates had decreed for her. As a human, it was all she was ever going to have anyway. All she could hope was that they didn’t cut the thread too short. The fate that determined the length of your life was blindfolded. She didn’t take account of whether you deserved a long life, nor of the job you had to complete before you could let go.

Buffy felt it strange that in meeting Spike her faith in God should have been shaken to the core, but it had only strengthened. And so had her belief that there was more at work in this world than she’d ever thought possible. He was at the core of it though and something was happening here. She didn’t know why, nor did she know what either of them had done to deserve this divine intervention. All they’d done was love each other.

Perhaps God’s hand would guide fate when she came to cut the thread of Buffy’s life. He knew what she needed to do and how much time she needed for it. Spike wouldn’t be redeemed in a single act and he needed her now more than at any other time.

She’d started the journey with him, lit the torch and carried the light, but one day she’d have to pass it to him and he’d have to bear it alone.

And he’d be strong enough. This was Spike. Couldn’t be a vampire, couldn’t be a man. That was true, because he was more than that. More than the sum of his parts. Spike was the kind of anomaly that made hell gnash its teeth and heaven dance with joy. Someone who’d lost his soul, but who was determined to win it back.

And someday, he would. Buffy believed that with all her heart.

Epilogue

Spike

The past is done and I let it go, because if I spent too much time thinking about it I would never move from this spot. I accept what I was as I accept what I am now, and I stopped questioning it long ago. The future too, is a place I try not to think about. Sometimes, when I awake at night I can almost feel my heart beating in a frenzy of panic over what it will inevitably bring. I’ve never liked being alone. All I ever wanted was for someone to love me, and the privilege of being able to love them back.

William never got that chance in life. He was a good man who perhaps, deserved more. Yet, he was always held back by the fear of rejection. And my demon destroyed everything it touched through its desire to possess and dominate. Hold something too tightly and it crushes to dust in your hand, but if you don’t hold on, then it slips through your fingers.

A fine balancing act, but one which William and the demon seem to have mastered. I’ll always be a worrier, but I try to limit my concerns to one day at a time now. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Today she’s here with me and that’s all I need. So I hold her carefully and appreciate everything she does for me. I’m still her fool for love, and gladly so. Besotted isn’t too strong a term to describe what I feel for her. I’d worship the ground she walks on, if she’d let me and I’ll remain, at her side, her champion to the end.

We made it as far as Edinburgh, a good place for vampires, and we live in a quiet corner at the bottom of a lane. Far enough away from prying eyes but not so isolated that we feel too cut off from the world. Buffy paints and I write and together we scrape by a living. Every day the local abattoir delivers us a canister of fresh blood which, to the casual eye must looks like a milk delivery. It’s pretty vile stuff, but I put up with it, for her.

I still do it all for her, and will continue to do so after she’s gone because she’s asked me too. I know she worries incessantly about it and I’ve reassured her as much as I can that I won’t kill again. It’s not easy, but then I never thought it would be. Sometimes the urge is just so strong and it’s a struggle not to give in to it. Not so much to kill, but the instinct to hunt and the need for human blood is a powerful one. I’m still a vampire at the end of the day, albeit a strange one.

We go to the pub and the theatre and Music Hall and to all the world must look like any normal couple. My demon told me once that vampires don’t do cosy domesticity, but they can if they put their mind to it. You can do anything with the proper motivation. We’re anything but normal though. Who could ever begin to comprehend what we are and what we have?

Buffy

I never knew what peace there was in love. The fire and the passion are still there, but the years have brought a kind of contentment I never thought possible. Spike writes wickedly popular tales involving murders and monsters and it seems the public can’t get enough of them. The more grisly the detail, the more they sell and I’ve resisted the temptation to ask him where he gets his inspiration, although I have my suspicions. William the Bloody is quite the famous author, although no one has ever seen him in public, which only adds to his kudos. Mysterious and reclusive, last year I accepted an award on his behalf from the Crime Writer’s Guild and I think he’s proud of it, even though he says he doesn’t care a jot about it. William would have loved that kind of recognition in life, although William would never have written anything like this.

It still amuses me to see him scribbling away in the dark. He got his balcony and spends hours out there writing with the city spread out below him. It’s one of our favourite places to make love. We keep a wicker sofa there that has seen many a passionate encounter and it’s perhaps a good thing that we don’t have any immediate neighbours as I can’t imagine what they would make of us.

------------------------------------------

She takes a moment to watch him as he scribbles away, his hand moving swiftly over the paper, stopping every now and then to chew at the tip of the pencil as he elaborates on his ingenious plots. The fading evening light shows up his vampire face and a smile creeps across her lips. Poor demon, this is the nearest it gets to its former days of glory. It kills now with pen and paper and its only outlet are the words on the page. It growls softly as it remembers what it was like to be there and for a moment it looks longingly out over the city at the bottom of the hill and she can almost feel the yearning within. Years of living with a vampire have tuned her senses so that she can feel the calling almost as strongly as he can.

He sees her and puts down the paper, smiles back at her. She never knew a demon could smile. It’s always a little apologetic, as if he’s been caught doing something he can’t help, but wants her to understand that. When he starts to go back into human face, she stops him. How can she feel sorry for a demon that can’t kill any more? A strange feeling indeed, but she knows he does it for her and she thanks him for it.

He leans back in the chair as she moves up behind him, her hands on the bunched muscles of his shoulders. Always so tight when his demon is out, everything hard and ready, and, when he’s like this he still has trouble holding back. Still wants to be in charge and take her in a swift, lustful frenzy. And he does, frequently. Waylaying her at often the most inopportune moments with short, sharp bursts of sexual pleasure that leave her sobbing with delight.

But she’s a lucky lady, because she has it all.

At the other end of the scale is William who still courts her like the hopeless romantic he will always be, but who never fails to reveal the passion beneath his gentle exterior.

And somewhere in the middle there’s Spike, with all his brash swaggering and insecurities. With his heart pinned firmly to his sleeve and eyes that plead silently that she never stop loving him. Her Saint George, always with his sword at the ready to fight off the dragons. Who wakes in the night and cries quiet tears that he thinks she doesn’t notice.

She lets her hands slide over his chest and kisses him, her hair sweeping over his face as their lips meet. Well versed fingers slip open shirt buttons, pulling it back so that she can kiss her way across his shoulder, and stopping on the way to take small nips of his skin. She likes to tease his demon. Likes to bring him to the edge of control. Loving the moment when he turns the tables on her and takes over.

She goes willingly when he catches her wrist and drags her onto his lap. Crushing her a little in his strong embrace, he looks her in the eye as if to tell her that she’s his and his alone. And she’s still shocked by the eagerness of her response when he’s like this. By the way the cold, hard lips of a demon can ignite such a flame of passion.

His hand’s already found where she’s hottest and each touch makes her hotter still. She can’t remember how many pairs of drawers he’s ruined in his haste to get to her and her fingers fumble over the buttons of his trousers as he leans back so that she can release him. Then he lifts her so that she’s straddling him and sinking down onto his hard cock and his hands go round to clutch at her buttocks and press her even closer, push him even deeper and they both groan with hunger and desire.

This demon knows what it wants, and it knows what she needs. It’s a flash fire as it sinks its fangs carefully into her neck, not a slow burn. Taking her with dizzying speed to the heights of passion. Demanding her complete surrender. But always there to catch her as she falls back to him.

And even though she still feels that slight hysteria as the balance of power shifts, she always knows that she can trust him and that he’ll never hurt her.

Afterwards, he holds her to him and strokes back her hair, his yellow eyes gazing into hers and he lets her see exactly what he is. And he lets her know that she’s safe with him. It’s a revelation to find that a demon is capable of such tenderness.

Something she discovers every time they make love.

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Buffy

Angelus finally caught up with us. One night as we were coming out of a pub I noticed a familiar figure standing in the shadows and I knew it was him. Spike had been well prepared for this meeting and immediately leapt to my defence, demon hovering just out of reach. He went for him, but I stopped him because I could tell from where I was that something wasn’t quite right.

Angelus stepped forward and I was shocked by his appearance. Rough and unshaven, his clothes threadbare, but it wasn’t that which gave me pause so much as the expression on his face. He looked like a man who’d seen some unimaginable horror and who couldn’t shake the image from his mind and, despite all he’d done to us, I felt moved to ask him what had brought him to this.

He laughed bitterly and said that it was himself. Then he told us he was sorry.

I found it hard to believe these words were coming out of the mouth of the great Angelus, Scourge of Europe, but I could see he was nothing, if not sincere. And there was pain in his eyes as I’ve never seen before.

Spike lost his temper at this point and pushed him roughly against the wall, asking him what the hell he wanted from us and Angelus simply said that it was our forgiveness.

Spike was quite distressed at this point and demanded to know what sick game Angelus was playing with us now, but I stopped him and pulled him back again, and not just because people were staring now as they passed by, mildly interested in what must have looked like a pub-brawl about to start.

I asked Angelus what had happened to him and he looked me straight in the eye and told me that he’d been cursed. Spike thought this hilariously funny until Angelus told us what he’d been cursed with.

We never saw him again. He turned and walked out of our lives, without our forgiveness, although looking back on it now, I wish I’d been able to say those words. I was left standing alone that night, contemplating a world in which there was now a vampire with a soul. I’d always truly thought that it would be Spike if it was to happen at all, but that wasn’t to be.

Spike took off looking as stricken as I’d seen him in a long while. And all I could do was wait for him to come home. I had no words of solace for him at the injustice of what had happened so I made love to him instead. And afterwards, when he was a little more rational, I told him it was a good thing. No matter that he wasn’t the first, that wasn’t what was important. What was, was the fact that it could happen at all. And if it could happen to Angelus, then how much more likely was it for someone who was actively seeking their soul?

I don’t think he was convinced by my words, but they were all the comfort that I had to offer. Poor Spike. He’s tried so hard that I can see why he would want to give up at this point. When it seems that everything he’s worked for has been given to someone who didn’t do a thing for it. Spike can’t see that it’s not that straight forward. That Angelus has only just started to earn his, and it comes at great cost.

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Spike

How can this be fair? I’ve tried, I really have and no one could have asked more of me. To have it rubbed in my face like this makes me feel hollow inside. I really thought God was watching me, that there was some sort of hope.

What a fool I was. It seems now that souls are ten-a-penny and even the vilest creatures on God’s earth deserve one more than I do.

I came so close to killing again that night, but luckily, I came to my senses and went home instead. To her. And back to my purpose with more resolve now, than I’d ever had.

If Angelus could get a soul, then I sure as hell could. I was determined to prove that.

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He sees her standing in the porch, softly illuminated in the glow of the lamplight. Her face is a little anxious as she watches the night for his return. They exchange a look and he shakes his head. Relief floods her features as she draws him to her and their lips meet, first in apology and then in forgiveness.

Spike is where she meets him as an equal. Where the scales balance and where they match perfectly.

He stops kissing her for a moment and searches her eyes for understanding. She always gives it, encouraging him to go on despite it sometimes being so hard. The door closes and they retreat to the privacy of the place they’ve made together. Somewhere where a human and a vampire can just be.

She still manages to taste of sweet innocence, despite all they’ve been through. It was what drew him to her right at the start and it still does. She kisses him with the mastery of someone who knows exactly who he is and what he needs, but somewhere in there he can still feel the young girl who tried so desperately to convince him, that first night that she was a woman of the world.

She’s always been able to calm him. With a touch, with a look. When he’s with her things never seem as bad and he forgets his jealousy and rage at the injustice of Angelus getting a soul and remembers instead how good it feels when he’s inside her.

Taking her hand he leads her up the stairs, stopping every now and then to press a kiss to her palm, or the scar on her wrist as he takes her to their bed. Her skin flushes rosy pink as he works open the buttons at the front of her dress and she watches him with a silent, breathless wonder as he smoothes it apart, then starts on the laces of her underwear.

Pretty and feminine. Satin and lace. Pink ribbons, barely encasing her beautiful breasts. Nipples pebbled to hardness in anticipation of his touch. All designed to drive a man to madness. He blows cool air across them and watches in fascination as they pucker even more, almost begging for his mouth. And he’s happy to oblige. Uses his tongue and teeth to make her call out his name in desperation.

And even when he thinks he’s been everywhere and done it all with her he still manages to find someplace new to take them both. Still manages to find an inch of her that he hasn’t kissed. Or has he just forgotten he’s been there? He doesn’t know anymore. Even with the familiarity of all their years together, it’s still a thrill for him to undress her slowly like this, discovering her all over again every single time.

And it’s never long before he’s on his knees before her and she’s flooding his mouth with her hot, liquid desire.

She always gets to come first, he never forgets his manners, sucking even harder when she grasps his hair with frantic fingers. It takes him to the edge of control when she grinds her hips against his face and murmurs a litany of words that should never pass a young lady’s lips. Naughty words he’s taught her. And it’s doubly erotic to hear them spilling from the mouth of one with the face of an angel.

Loose and relaxed, enshrouded in a sensual haze, she reaches down and taking hold of his tie, she pulls him up against her. A quick sweep of her tongue over his lips then she pushes him back onto the bed so that he’s sitting on the edge and slides herself between his legs. The tie she opens slowly, working at the knot while her eyes hold his. And when she’s pulled it away she loops it around her own neck and he reaches up to deftly re- tie it for her, leaving the knot loose, the tails hanging between her breasts.

He doesn’t remember her taking off his shirt because he’s too enraptured with the sight of her standing before him wearing nothing but his tie. If he ever had a fantasy it would be this. If he’d ever dreamed of a perfect woman it would be her. Kissing her way across his chest, stopping to lavish attention on his nipples. Dipping lower to the waistband of his trousers.

She rubs her cheek against his straining erection, over the rough cloth, and he lies back and covers his face with his hands because the world’s going a little hazy and he can’t focus any more. It’s too much. A vampire feels it all with every one of his senses and sometimes he needs to concentrate it down. Needs to shut out the distraction of her beautiful face as she undoes his trousers and takes out his thick, hard cock. He just wants to feel her mouth working on him, doing the thing she’s got very good at over the years, despite her shaky start. All he thinks about is her teasing tongue and the welcoming embrace of her lips encasing him and drawing him in. She evens the score and makes him come in a rush of sensation that he can hardly control. And then she crawls up onto the bed beside him, wiping at her mouth, and looking every bit as pleased as he knows she is.

She’s on her back before she has time to draw breath, her arms pinned above her head. His cock seeking out her wet entrance and sinking home in one hard thrust. They both stop for a moment as she adjusts to his delicious invasion and then he starts to move.

This is where he wants to spend his life. Where he wants to die. And where he wants to spend eternity. Deep inside the woman he loves. And he does die, a little, every time he comes. Because every time he does that he leaves a little more of himself behind. Loves her more than he did before. And each time it’s harder finding his way back.

---------------------------------------------

Spike

I sometimes wonder if I’d ever have found such happiness if I’d remained human. William would possibly have managed to get himself married, eventually, but I think it would have always been a compromise. He set his sights so high that he was bound to be disappointed with who he ended up. Disappointed, but possibly not surprised. Life would have been the inevitable acceptance of second-best and he would have lived it and then died.

As Spike, William suddenly found he didn’t have a care in the world. Everything he wanted he just took, but funnily enough that didn’t lead to contentment either, although one would have thought it should. It’s hard to care about things that come to you too easily and one of the things I’ve learned from being with Buffy is that the things you have to fight for become far more precious than those that just fall into your lap.

Today we celebrated the birthday where Buffy became the same age as me. I shouldn’t use the word celebrated because this inevitable turning of the tide brings me no joy, yet I put those thoughts firmly aside. I bought her a silver locket, for which we painted each other a picture and when the sun had set, we walked up the hill to Arthur’s seat and looked at the view. I came over all poetic and started spouting some rubbish or other, and then, right in the middle of it Buffy suddenly turned to me and asked me in a clear, un-shaking voice, to make her into a vampire.

I nearly fell over from the shock of her words and at the seriousness I saw in her face. I always knew that if it came to this it would have to come completely from her with no interference or pressure from me, and my demon jumped for joy that it had got its heart’s desire at last.

She cried so hard when I told her no. I knew deep-down that it wasn’t what she really wanted. That it was just a moment’s panic and something that we would both bitterly regret. I’m not sure what she was crying the most at. The fact that she’d asked me, or that I’d had the strength to say no. Life has, for me, been a series of tests and this one has been the hardest so far. If I am walking a path of redemption, as she continually tells me that I am, then this hopefully, is one more step along the way.

I’d love to keep her with me in this life forever, but now, finally, I’ve accepted that it won’t be possible. And, hard though it will be, I think I can live with that.

I still foolishly dream of meeting her again in the afterlife, but to do that she’s going to have to keep hold of her soul. And I’m going to have to find mine.

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Buffy

If I said I didn’t know what possessed me when I asked him to turn me, I’d be lying. A feeling of such panic built up as I looked at him tonight that my rational mind completely deserted me. No-one likes getting older, but for me this birthday was too much of a milestone and for one brief moment I thought it worth every risk to be with him forever.

Thank God he refused. The demon was so close to it and I don’t know where Spike found the strength to hold him back. Then he reminded me what we’ve spoken of many times. That if there’s be any chance of us finding each other after death then we both have to prove ourselves worthy.

Times like these give me hope though. He has such potential and I know that one day he will realise the full extent of it. Tonight I saw a person who was strong and steadfast. Someone who did what he knew was right, not what would give him the most happiness. I saw sacrifice, and above all, I saw love. More than I’ve ever deserved, but for which I am eternally grateful.

I used to worry about him so much. About how he’d be and what he’d do after I’d gone, but I don’t any more. With each year that passes I’m finding that I need to hold his hand less tightly and that the road before us is becoming brighter and brighter.

There’s a place he needs to be, way off in the distance, and my heart swells with pride when I see how determinedly Spike walks towards it.

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But what of poor, gentle William? He won’t be forgotten in all of this.

She sees him in every hesitant smile. Every time he stumbles and stammers over his words when it all gets too much. When he gropes for her hand in the darkness and when he cries in the night.

In every shy, romantic gesture and in every line of poetry. Even in the unruly curl of his hair when it gets too long.

William shows her what strength there is in quiet determination and he shows her how to be thankful for what they have.

William accepts that a lifetime is all they will have. And he helps her to accept it too.

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Buffy

There’s a small church at the bottom of the hill where I go whenever I feel the need to pray. Old habits die hard and I still find it easier to feel God’s presence when I’m in His House. No matter that it’s completely the wrong denomination and no doubt that my father would have a blue fit at the thought of me worshipping in a Catholic Church. But for me, those sort of concerns are trivial matters for people who don’t have anything important enough to worry about.

The priest has never spoken to me, although I’ve seen him watching on many an occasion, perhaps sensing that I’d prefer to be left alone. Today however, he seemed to know that I needed wise counsel and, as I stopped to light a candle at the small shrine in the entrance, he approached me and wished me a good day. I returned the sentiment and for a moment there was an awkward pause. Then he drew my attention to the new stained-glass window above the door and asked what I thought of it. I told him that the workmanship was wonderful and that it was a great asset to the church, but he asked me to look again, so I did.

He said one more thing before leaving me to look more closely.

The whole of heaven rejoices when one sinner repents.

I spent a long time looking at the beautifully arranged glass in the window. The message was clear and filled in the remaining gaps of this complicated puzzle that is my life. I walk in two worlds, and I’ve seen things that people wouldn’t begin to comprehend, but in all of it it’s perhaps the simplest things that have had the most impact.

Like the picture of the shepherd bringing home the lost sheep. Without words, it told me something I desperately needed confirming. And something that I’ve never forgotten.

Spike was waiting for me when I left. Lurking by the gate and smoking a cigarette. He never comes too near, although I’m sure nothing terrible would happen to him if he did. He produced a bunch of flowers which he assured me he hadn’t stolen from one of the graves and then he took my arm and we strolled into town. Afterwards, we returned home and he took me in is arms and held me for a long while before taking me to bed.

I love them all, but sometimes he’s the perfect blend of William and the Demon, something that’s happening more and more as time goes by. And that’s how it should be.

This story is one of a man who died, but was given a reason to live again. I like to think that reason was me, but somehow I think not. I’m just here to steer him towards a higher purpose, which I believe more and more will be something spectacular.

I may not live to see it in this life, but wherever I end up, I’ll be watching, and I’ll be waiting for him. Because I think that one day, Spike is going to truly surprise us all.

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Spike

I must have seen your face a million times in the last sixty years as I continued to fight the good fight and watched the world change, without you.

But it was only ever leading to one place.

People did a lot of crazy things for the turn of the millennium.

I went and finally won back my soul.

The End

Thank you everyone for reading this story and for taking the trouble to leave reviews.

I toyed with various endings to the Spike pov, but liked this one best. Didn't feel it needed explaining how Spike got his soul as we all know... Hope you liked it too. I'm off to finish Something Worth Fighting For next. Bye for now
candy/moxie xxx

One Step Beyond fiction by candyknicks at
http://candy.karma-hotel.net

Moxiefic at http://moxie.karma-hotel.net

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