by Always_JBJ

*banner by bloodshedbaby*

Response to Challenge #64 at the Bloodshedverse. Challenge details will be posted at the end of the fic.

Thanx to my fabulous beta AmyB for not only betaing this for me and doing her usual wonderful job, but for doing so while so terribly sick. Get well soon sweetie! **hugs**

Chapter 1

“So! What? Watcher duties now include pimping me out?” the furious slayer asked as she glared daggers first at her red-faced watcher and then at the blonde vampire chained to the chair.

With a weary sigh, Giles turned to his frantic slayer; taking off his glasses to give them a thorough polishing, he tried once more to pierce the cloud of denial with which she had surrounded herself in order to explain the situation to her. “Buffy, do you think there is one thing about this situation that I like? I have explored every possible avenue, and this is the only solution available. In order to prevent the world from being swallowed whole and pulled into a hell dimension beyond your worst possible imaginings, you must be pregnant by a master vampire at the time you destroy the idol. There is a very specific and non-negotiable order of events required to stop this apocalypse, of which this pregnancy is an integral part.”

Buffy simply could not believe what she was hearing. It was bad enough that she was the ‘Chosen One,’ which was really just a fancy way of saying that she was never going to have a normal life—she would never grow up or get married or have kids. What she was going to get instead of a normal life was a load of heartache and an early death; except that now, apparently, she could add impregnated by Spike to that list as well. “So I have to have Bleach Boy here’s baby in order to save the world?! Never mind that I’m only seventeen and will be an unwed mother on top of being the Slayer! And, oh my god, Mom—she will just flip. There has to be another way, Giles… there just has to be. Please… you have to find it!” She turned moist terrified eyes on her watcher, clinging to the hope that he would somehow manage to save her and temporarily disregarding the fact that he was the very person who was insisting that she go through with this nightmare in the first place.

“Buffy, I assure you that after the apocalypse is averted we will take the necessary steps to rid you of such an abomination. No one would ever expect you to...”

“Oi! That’s my kid you are talking about. ‘s bad enough you tell me I’ve got to get the bloody slayer up the duff in the first place. Then you wanna just kill the baby when you’re done with it, and you have the cheek to call me evil?” Spike grumbled.

Buffy slumped to the couch and buried her face miserably in her hands, muttering quietly to herself. “This just is so not happening.”

The two men in the room stared helplessly at the slayer as her shoulders shook with quiet sobs. After some time, she collected herself a bit and wiped the tears from her face as she turned pleading red-rimmed eyes on her watcher. “This must be some sort of massive cosmic joke, you know? I sleep with one vampire—the one I love—and he turns all evil and gets hell-bent on destroying the world. Now you tell me that in order to stop him I have to sleep with another vampire—an evil one—and one I loathe?! Giles, tell me this is just an awful dream… please.”

Giles could not recall a time when he had actively hated his duties as a Council Watcher. The previous year, when he had seen the prophecy in the Codex and knew with certainty that his slayer was going to die, he had been both saddened and angry at the situation and had been determined to prevent her death, even had it meant giving up his own life to do so. At this moment, however, he was asking this young girl to not only put her life on the line for the sake of humanity, as she had done every night since she had been called but to have intercourse with a vicious master vampire who actively sought out and killed slayers, and to become pregnant by that selfsame vampire. As if that were not enough, once all that had been accomplished, he would then have to ask her to risk her life once more in a fight with yet another master vampire, one who wore the body and the face of the man she loved, in order to ritually destroy a stone idol before it could unleash hell on earth. Yes, today, he truly detested being a watcher! “Buffy…”

“There’s no soddin’ way. I won’t do it. I refuse, and you can’t bloody make me. Now, let me go or stake me,” Spike raged as he struggled weakly against the chains binding him in place.

“I vote for staking,” Buffy agreed, perking up for the first time in hours. Spike slayage would definitely be of the good!

“Spike, has it occurred to you that if the world is destroyed, then by the same token so shall you and Drusilla be ended?” Giles was trying to be reasonable, really he was, but he had been at this for hours and his head was killing him. A good scotch and some peace and quiet were what he needed. What he did not need was a vampire—albeit a weak and drugged one—sitting in his living room while he did his best to arrange for the child that he loved like a daughter and said evil and incredibly annoying vampire to have sex in order to save the world. “Don’t you think it would be in your best interest, as well as ours, for you to cooperate?”

“You tell me why I should, Watcher. You bloody shot me with some sort of elephant tranquilizer and chained me up in here. Did you come to me and ask for help? No! Your grand plan was just ‘kidnap the vampire and use him to impregnate the Slayer.’ An’ after the deed is done—then what, hey? You stake me? What happens to old Spikey when you no longer need him for stud duties?”

“Spike, don’t be ridiculous. We’d never … Well, in this extraordinary case we wouldn’t… What I mean to say is, of course you will be free to go once Buffy is pregnant and Acathla has been defeated.”

“He will?” Buffy stared in quizzical amazement at her Watcher. “We’re just gonna let him go? You know, to kill people and… well… kill more people,” she finished with a pout, her argument faltering as she realised how petulant she sounded.

“Buffy, how could we in all good conscience ask Spike to help us and then stake him when he does?” He turned to fix his gaze once more upon the incapacitated vampire. “No, if Spike will agree to help us defeat Angelus and Acathala he may leave and take Drusilla with him. However,” he added as his eyes narrowed and jaw set, the quiet librarian momentarily replaced by the far deadlier persona of his long ago youth, “if either Spike or Drusilla set foot in Sunnydale again, they will be hunted down and exterminated. This I promise.”

Spike glared at the tweed-clad wanker with impotent fury. If his bloody legs worked and he could just get out of these chains, he would merrily rip the bastard’s throat out for daring to speak to him in that way. As it was, his only weapon was his tongue, and so he employed it eagerly, looking forward to the stupid git’s humiliation when he realised what a complete idiot he had been. “There’s jus’ one last thing ‘bout this plan of yours that doesn’t make a bleedin’ bit of sense, Watcher. Vampire, here. You know, undead. As in not alive. I can’t get your Slayer pregnant for you, so you’d best find some other patsy to do the deed.”

“Yes, well, I am quite aware of your condition, Spike. And while ordinarily what you say is true, according to my research if you… well, that is to say… a vampire, or at least a master vampire who claims a Slayer would then be able to…”

“What?! You’re off your bleedin rocker if you think I’m gonna claim her. Do you have any idea what you are asking? What a claim involves?”

“I am well aware of the process of the ritual, yes—and I might add that if you take one drop more of her blood than you require you will be begging for me to dust you. Do I make myself completely clear?”

“I’m not talking ‘bout the bloody ritual, you stupid git. A claim is sacred—not something you do with just anyone—and it’s for life. It would bind us together in a far more permanent way than human marriage does. There’s no annulment, no divorce, no way out. No way I could leave her if I’d claimed her, an’ even if I could there’d be no way she’d let me. ‘S not gonna happen, Watcher. No way. I love Dru, and I am NOT claiming the Slayer. An’ I wouldn’t claim her even if I didn’t have Dru. End of story.”

“Then Drusilla will die.” Giles held the furious vampire’s gaze, neither wavering for some time, before Spike finally growled in surrender.

“Don’t say I didn’t bloody warn you. But you make damned sure the girl knows what she’s getting herself into. The bond a mating creates is unbreakable ‘cept by death, and you did say I do what you ask an’ I get out of this un-dusted, right?” Spike raised his left eyebrow questioningly, allowing only the faintest trace of the doubt he was feeling to enter his voice. He was far too accomplished of a predator to make a novice mistake like showing fear; fear was a weakness that could be used against him, and because of the sodding tranqs the Watcher was already up one weakness too many. There was no doubt in Spike’s mind after his recent battle of wills with the pompous git, that this Watcher would use any weapon available to him in order to manipulate others into doing his bidding.

“‘The girl’ is sitting right here, you know,” Buffy groused, glaring once more at the two men who seemed intent on settling this without so much as consulting her. Although, to be fair, Spike seemed more concerned with her interests than Giles did. But still—hello? Sitting right here. Why did they have to talk about her like she wasn’t even there? Men!

“Buffy, I know that you are upset about this, and rightly so. However, I do hope you can see that despite the abhorrent nature of the task you are being asked to perform, I would not ask it of you unless the need was absolutely dire.” Giles knelt on the floor in front of his obviously distressed charge and took her hands gently in his. “I hate to have to ask this of you… surely you do know that?” At her reluctant nod, he continued. “It is the only possible way to save the world, Buffy. I know that this is an enormous weight to lay upon your shoulders, but unfortunately, that is the just the way that it is.” Giles watched as a tear tracked slowly down the girl’s face, her misery evident in every line as she steeled herself to do the duty that had been placed by fate on her tiny shoulders.

“Alright,” she agreed, the word spoken in a grief-filled whisper.

Chapter 2





They sat alone in the Watcher’s lounge-room, neither one looking at the other. The silence seemed to stretch out endlessly between them. They had been sitting this way for the better part of an hour, ever since the fiercely glaring Watcher had reluctantly left them alone.



Spike had won that particular battle of wills.



After explaining to the Slayer several times what the ritual entailed and answering the few softly mumbled questions she had voiced, Giles had wanted them to “get on with it,” as he’d so crudely and insensitively put it. There had been no way that the vampire would have any part of that deal. After a fierce shouting match that featured furious glares from the men and horrified, if stifled, sobs from Buffy, Spike had finally prevailed and managed to convince the stupid bloody wanker that the Slayer and he needed to be left alone. There was no way he was going to do this ritual with the Watcher taking bloody notes; he also figured that having her Watcher in attendance was the last thing the girl needed to have happen. She didn’t need an audience, and he didn’t want one; the whole situation was just one bloody great mess as far as he was concerned. So Spike had sent the tweed-clad git packing with very specific orders not to return till the morning, orders that had been reinforced by the slayer’s pleading agreement.



Now he was waiting. Waiting for the girl to talk to him, to look at him, or at the very least to acknowledge his existence. The claiming was not something that Spike had any intention of rushing and he was gonna make damned sure the chit was fully aware of what she was getting herself into. Saving the world or not, a claim was serious, and he didn’t think it would be fair for either of them to go in with any sort of illusions—it was going to be hard enough on them if they both went in with their eyes wide open.



The silence was broken finally by a tiny, fear-filled whisper. “So this claimy thing, it… it will make us love each other?” Buffy lifted tear-filled, horrified green eyes to look at him. “Is that what you were saying to Giles earlier?”

“Wha…? No, pet. That’s not it. It can’t make us feel anything that we don’t already feel. It will bind us in a physical sense and in a sense of duty to each other, but not in an emotional one.” Spike sighed and tried to think of how to explain to the scared little girl now sitting in the Slayer’s place exactly what the ritual would mean to her and how it was going to affect the rest of her life. “Because it’s permanent, the claim is something that’s done only by two vampires who love each other and want to bind their existences to each other—the love is already there. What it does is create a strong commitment to each other; my demon will recognise you as its mate, I’ll protect you at all costs, and I won’t be leavin’ you either. You’re gonna be stuck with me, pet. ‘m not sure if it will have the same effect on you, what with you bein’ human an’ all. Vampires who are mated can feel each other’s emotions, know if their mate is in danger or pain or stressed in any way—they pretty much know where the other is at all times. But … No, luv, it’s not a bloody spell. It won’t make you love me, or make me love you. It’s gonna bond us, ‘s all.”



Spike didn’t quite know why it was important to him that the Slayer both understand and be alright with what was going to happen. Well, as alright as she could be, anyway. All he knew was that the girl was as much a victim in this as he was, and he didn’t want to claim her without her full understanding of the situation. Didn’t seem fair, somehow—although he refused to let himself wonder why he cared that anything about the Slayer’s life was “fair.”



“Ok,” she responded, her voice just the tiniest bit stronger. “So what else does it do?”



She was actually looking at him now, rather than at the floor or her hands; he figured that that had to be counted as an improvement.



“Don’t rightly know, pet. Never been mated, or known any that were—vampires can be a pretty mercenary bunch, and there’s not a lot of eagerness to go tying your unlife to somebody else. So pretty much, what I’ve told you is what I know.” He watched as she digested that information; her face was calmer now, having lost that deer in the headlights look that she had been sporting for the last couple of hours. After a few minutes, he figured that fair was only fair and the Q&A’s should run both ways, and he soon found himself voicing the question that had been plaguing him since this whole thing began. “Slayer… ‘s one helluva story your Watcher has come up with, luv, you gotta admit. What are the chances he knows what he’s talking about?”



Broken from her reverie, Buffy looked up; taking in the vampire’s hopeful expression, she sighed deeply before answering. “If Giles says it has to be done, then it’s pretty much a given that it has to be done. And something like… well, this… you know, what we have to do? He would have triple checked and then cross-whats-it-ed, you can be sure of that. So… yeah, the chances are really, majorly high that he knows what he is talking about.” She watched the hope fade from Spike’s face and realised that he wanted this no more than she did; the thought was somehow both comforting and strangely insulting, almost like she was hurt by the possibility that Spike wouldn’t want her. Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion over that last thought—where had that come from? There was no time for self-reflection on odd thought processes, though, because Spike had reached his second wind in his attempt at making sure she understood exactly what was being asked of them.



“So… I know that the Watcher went over this about a million times, pet, but… you ‘right with how the ritual works? I mean… not alright with it… cause I doubt you are. Hell, I know I’m not… But what I mean is, you understand what has to happen, right?”



Buffy looked at him, slightly amused because she was absolutely certain that if he could, he would be blushing.



“Yes, Spike. I understand what has to happen,” she replied, strangely calm.



“Ok. That’s good, then.” Spike cocked his head to the side and looked at her intently for a few minutes before speaking again, this time with a request instead of an explanation. “Come here, luv.”



“What? What for?” Buffy replied, caught off-guard by his request.



“Cause I’m askin’ you to,” he replied, annoyed, before allowing his tone to soften a bit. “Please, Slayer. Will you just come here?”



Buffy slowly advanced across the room, her guard firmly in place as it hadn’t been the whole time that she had been here alone in the room with him. What did he want? What was he up to? If anything—Spike was far from predictable. She stopped just in front of him, looking down at him warily. “Ok. So, I’m here. What did you want?”



“Take these chains off me, pet. Please, luv.” He looked beseechingly at her, consciously working every charm he possessed. “’m not gonna hurt you, luv—I think you know that. If we don’t do this… well, then it’s goodbye to everything in this soddin’ world that I care about, so you know I’m gonna go through with it. I’m gonna help you defeat Angelus, too. But this is just damned uncomfortable. So what do you say, luv? Please?”



Buffy hesitated a few steps away from him, taking in his pleading eyes and the expectant look on his face, and allowed the gently reasonable voice and logical arguments to wash over her. Well, she rationalised, I am gonna have to unchain him sometime, if we are gonna… Suddenly, the full reality of their situation hit her like a blow to the face. With an indrawn gasp of air, she closed her eyes, swaying slightly before dropping to her knees on the floor in front of him. “Oh god, Spike. I… We…” The concern clearly evident in his eyes and on his highly expressive face blurred as the tears that swam in her eyes overflowed in an inexorable torrent of grief. A low keening sounded in her ears, and it was quite some time before she realised that it was coming from her. A quiet, soothing voice broke slowly through her misery and tears, and she looked up through red-rimmed, swollen eyes to meet his obviously concerned blue ones.

“Slayer? You ok, luv?” The sight of his powerful enemy huddled in grief on the floor touched Spike in a way he couldn’t quite fathom. It just seemed wrong, to see her there like that. She was so strong, so capable—the best he’d ever gone up against—and she was on her knees weeping. The desolation in her eyes when she turned them on him made his undead heart jump, and for the first time he realised just how young the Slayer really was. Maybe it was leftover from the poncy Victorian poet he had once been, or maybe it was just the “Love’s Bitch” in him that couldn’t bear to see a woman, especially a beautiful one, so completely miserable. Whatever the reason, the sight of her so totally forlorn was killing him. He moved to comfort her, struck with the sudden and acute desire to stroke the hair from her tear-stained face and run soft soothing caresses up her arms until the agony currently reflected on her face disappeared, only to be brought up short by the hateful chains that bound him, ineffectual and impotent, to the chair. With a growl of frustration he fought for a moment, shimmying his shoulders and straining against the firmly wrapped chains in a futile effort to break free. Finally resigning himself to his entrapment for the moment, he reached his hand toward her, stretching his lower arm as far as possible towards the unhappy girl. “C’mere, luv. Slayer. Buffy. Come on, pet. It’ll be ok.” He urged her to him and was both pleased and amazed when she shuffled forward to rest her head against his lifeless leg, just in range of his fingertips, and he could finally reach her and stroke her hair as he cooed soft words of comfort.



Eventually, the Slayer’s sobs lessened. Hiccuping, she dried her eyes roughly with the back of her hand and looked up at the “evil” vampire who had just spent twenty minutes soothing her with his gentle touch and softly spoken words of reassurance. He returned her gaze, looking deeply into her eyes, his own filled with gentle compassion. In that moment of silent communication, he argued for his cause far more eloquently and effectively than he could have with any number of carefully thought-out or pretty speeches or pleas. Buffy rose and, without saying a word, walked over to the counter where Giles had placed the key to Spike’s bonds. She returned to the vampire’s side and carefully freed him from his restraints, then carried the chain and padlock back to the counter and placed them there neatly next to the key.



Returning to stand a few feet in front of Spike, she found him looking at her, his head tilted slightly, and a look of profound wonder on his face. Buffy drew a deep fortifying breath and, steeling herself against the tumult of emotions that were roiling inside her and threatening to once more reduce her to a whimpering ball of misery on the floor, managed to ask without too much of a tremble in her voice, “So… How do we… I mean, I know HOW. What I mean is…”



“Shh. No need to rush that, luv. C’mere an’ talk to me a bit, eh?”...



“Why are you being nice to me?” Buffy asked, a hint of suspicion once more colouring her voice. “I mean, you’ve spent most of the year trying to kill me, and now you’re being all understanding guy. Why?”



Spike’s gaze never wavered from hers, intense blue locking with her bruised and swollen green. “That was different, pet. That wasn’t personal… was nothing against you. Was warrior against warrior—fight to the death. This?! Well, this is personal. ‘s about as sodding personal as you can get. And it’s something that is happening to both of us. Neither of us want this, luv. But then neither of us particularly wants to see the world end in Angelus’ twisted bloody Blaze of Glory, do we? So, the way I look at it… you an’ I, we’re pretty much stuck with each other. An’ as little as I wanna be doing this, I want to be doing it against your will even less. I’m not sayin’ we have to love each other in order to do this, pet. But we could at least try liking each other a bit.” He smiled tentatively at her before ducking his head and mumbling quietly, “Besides, never could stand to see a woman cry. ‘s not bloody fair using tears against a fella. ‘s just plain dirty tactics.”



Buffy was unable to fight the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth at the vampire’s shamefully muttered confession. The gentle compassion he had shown her and his softly spoken admission to being vulnerable to a woman’s tears, along with his obvious devotion to his demented sire despite her recent treatment of him, all combined to make this evil vampire—who was, she reminded herself, responsible for the deaths of two slayers—somewhat of an enigma. Buffy stepped closer to the wooden chair and its occupant.



“Well... Why don’t you come and sit on the couch, then, and we can talk,” Buffy offered with a sigh. He was right, after all; neither of them wanted this. There was no avoiding what they had to do, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t at least try to make a bad situation bearable by being a little less antagonistic towards each other.



“Well, as much as I’d like to take you up on that offer, pet, I can’t. It seems when you drop a bloody great church organ on someone’s back, their legs tend to stop working.” Spike glared at Buffy for a moment before he remembered that they were supposed to be trying to get on. Her eyes widening in shock as the realisation of what she had done to him hit home swept away the last vestiges of his resentment—after all, it had been a fair fight, warrior against warrior. Couldn’t expect her to forgive and not do the same himself. “’s alright, pet. We were tryin’ to kill each other, remember?” He sighed deeply before adding, “’s just I’d sooner you’d killed me than left me like this. Waste of bloody space is all I am at the moment. Can’t walk… hell, can’t even feed myself. I’ll mend, I know that, an’ I meant what I said ‘bout helping you fight Angelus… ‘s just that I’ll need some time to do a bit of healing first.”



“I thought vampiress were all with the speedy healing… like me?” Buffy asked, obviously confused. She didn’t miss the flash of pain that shot across his face and through his eyes before he managed to block it, and she wondered briefly if she had caused that as well as his paralysis.



Spike’s jaw clenched in remembered frustration as he answered her very quietly. “Yeah, well, we are, usually. ‘s just… Dru was never much good at remembering to feed me at the best of times… but now, since her precious daddy came back to her…”



“So you haven’t been feeding?” Buffy looked closely at him, taking in the gaunt features with an almost clinical eye; he had always been lean, but now on closer inspection she could see that he was indeed looking a little worse for wear. His usually sharp, chiselled cheekbones were more prominent than normal, with deep shadowed hollows below. His frame, beneath the skin-tight black t-shirt, was a little more angular than she remembered; hints of bone were visible where once there had been strong, wiry muscles. Buffy had fought Spike enough times to know that he was strong and extremely agile, an amazing fighter and a tough opponent; looking at him now, she could clearly see the evidence of his recent debility, and she found that it bothered her more than she would have thought. “Well, we’ll just have to do something about that. I’ll go to the butcher’s and get…” Her voice trailed off as she belatedly realised the time. “Ok. Well, first thing in the morning, we’ll get you some blood, and you’ll be better in no time. Right?” She gave him an expectant smile and waited for him to affirm that he would indeed be quickly back to full fighting strength with just a little bit of appropriate care.



“Yeah, luv. A little blood an’ I’ll be right as rain in no time. Course, human blood would work a lot quicker than that swill from the butcher’s,” he prodded, raising an eyebrow inquiringly and hoping against hope that he hadn’t just opened his mouth and pushed his luck a little too far.



Rather than answering him verbally, Buffy’s gaze simply grew intent once more, her eyes narrowing as she took in every detail of the man seated before her. Without a word she turned and walked out of the room, leaving one very bewildered vampire in her wake.



She returned several moments later and handed Spike a ridiculous novelty mug; the overwhelming scent rising from the mug was, however, more than enough to draw his attention away from the silly slogan. Reaching out with a suddenly shaky hand, he took the proffered mug carefully from her, his eyes fixed on it as he drew it to his mouth. Spike stared at the contents for a moment, transfixed, before turning his piercing blue eyes on the girl standing before him.



“What did you…?”



“I thought it might help. You said human blood was better than pig, so I thought maybe… I mean, if you don’t want it...” Uncertainty coloured her voice; she had been so sure of herself and her decision when she had left the room. But now, with the way he was reacting, she was suddenly not so sure she had done the right thing, and she felt small and foolish under the focus of his inspection. When his eyes softened and filled with an incredulous wonder, she felt the knot of anxiety that had been forming in her stomach release and dissipate. Spike’s awed words confirmed to her that she had done the right thing, not only for returning him to the level of strength and fitness they would require from him in the forthcoming battle, but also for building upon the tentative acceptance that was forming between them.



“Don’t want it? Pet, this is… I don’t know how to thank you, luv. No one has ever…”



Buffy interrupted his reverent words of gratitude with a gentle smile as she ducked her head in embarrassment at his intense show of emotion. “You better drink it before it goes cold, then.”



With one last speculative look at the contents of the mug, he brought it to his lips and drank. His eyes closed in bliss as the potent elixir made its way down his throat, filling his body with its power. He could feel himself healing; feel as muscles atrophied from lack of use filled with a renewed vigour, feel sudden strength course through him as her formidable blood worked its magic to repair the damage done to it by both violence and neglect.



Spike slowly flexed the healing muscles, carefully testing each before tentatively climbing to his feet to rest on faintly trembling legs. The tremors lessened as he stood still and allowed them to adjust to supporting his weight; with a grateful smile, he took the few remaining steps that separated him from the girl whose blood had freed him from the prison of immobility to which he had been sentenced for the past couple of months. He gathered her gently to him, reaching down to cup her face and gently lift it until she met his eyes with her own. “Thank you, Slayer. Buffy,” he finished, her name falling softly, almost reverently from his lips.



Spike leaned down and placed a soft, gentle kiss of gratitude against Buffy’s lips. A quiet involuntary moan escaped him as the kiss, which had been meant as no more than a token of appreciation, deepened slightly and her arms came up to circle his waist, holding him fast against her. The slayer’s softly-breathed moan of pleasure emboldened him, and he ran his tongue gently across her lips in a wordless request, just as parts of him long since neglected made their presence clearly known.



Her lips parted under his, allowing his tongue access to hers, and he took advantage slowly, just taking the time to taste and savour her. His cock ached with sudden need, and he marvelled to himself that a gentle, chaste kiss could have such an intense and overwhelming effect on him; catching himself, however, he quickly dismissed the thought as merely the obvious result of having finally regained function and of having a soft feminine body in his arms. Buffy’s tongue slid tentatively along his, asking silently and hesitantly for permission, and in return he allowed the slayer to gently explore, reminding himself all the while that the girl in his arms was still new to such experiences. He willed himself to patience, even though all he wanted was to rip her clothes off and relieve the throbbing need in his now desperately straining erection.



His hands wandered slowly across her back, one sliding up to tangle gently in the golden mane of hair as the other wandered down to cup the firm yet supple curve of one small round cheek, urging her body closer to him as he further deepened their kiss. Buffy stiffened momentarily in his arms, and then melted against him as she surrendered to the exquisite sensations being drawn out by his gently exploring hands and tongue.



Without breaking the kiss, Spike caught her up in his arms, holding her to his chest; he smiled appreciatively against her lips as her arms snaked around his neck, holding tightly to him as he carried her carefully up the stairs towards the Watcher’s spare bedroom.

tbc

My thanks as always go to my wonderful beta AmyB who not only does a wonderful job of betaing, in all it's many aspects, but also who understands the pain of writer's block and is there to hold my hand and sympathise whilst my muse is off gallivanting around the world or wherever it is he has taken himself off to!


Chapter 3

Giles sat, a little worse for wear, in the darkest corner he could find of the only pub in Sunnydale that managed to come even close to resembling those back home in London. He had accepted the latest pint of Guinness from the waitress and now nursed it, just as he was also nursing his ever-growing resentment.

He was still seething over the events that had led to him sitting here; he had just been thrown out of his own home, by a vampire, with orders not to return until daybreak. Since when did he take orders from a bloody vampire? he thought bitterly as he took a long swallow of his rapidly warming beer. Not that he had left because of the damned vampire anyway, he reminded himself; it had been his slayer’s quiet pleas, coming on the heels of the vampire’s orders, that had sent him out into the night with no more than his coat and his wallet. What he couldn’t reconcile himself to was the fact that she had asked him to leave in the first place, had all but bloody begged him to leave her alone with that vicious creature, when all he wanted was to protect her.

Protect her?

A bitter laugh escaped him at the irony of that thought, and he took another long draw of the dark brew. He was the one asking this… abomination of her in the first place. Protect her indeed; he could try, but he was unable to lie to himself, and try as he might he just could not shake the feeling that he was whoring her out to an evil killer in order to save the world. All of his family history, the generations-long Giles legacy of service to the Council of Watchers, and yet here he was reduced to little more than a glorified pimp. Surely there was another way to defeat Angelus—something that wouldn’t require his Slayer to debase herself? If only he had looked a little longer, perhaps he may have found something, anything, else. Perhaps he could have saved her from this horrendous ordeal.

The Watcher in him knew that there was no other way; the prophecy had been very specific, and he had verified it numerous times, checking and cross-checking that his translation and his interpretations were correct. He had spent the last week poring tirelessly and repetitively over every piece of literature he could find pertaining to Acathla, Angelus, and any references regarding an impregnated slayer. The few small bits of information he had been able to locate merely reconfirmed the conclusion that he had already drawn; as such he had acrimoniously resigned himself to what he must ask his Slayer to do. The father in him, however—the man inside who saw this girl as more than simply his charge, his Slayer, who saw her rather as the daughter that he would quite likely never have—longed to find another way, to say to hell with it, to let the world and its problems find someone else to save them this time. Surely she had done enough already; she had, after all, died to save the world; why should she be forced to endure this torment as well?

Closing his eyes, he allowed his head to fall forward and rest on the beer-stained timber of the table in front of him. He wanted to rail at the world, to rip heads off, to vent his impotence in blood and pain. He longed to scream out his fury at the injustice that forced a young, vibrant girl with so much life in her to go out each night, repeatedly risking said life in the attempt to save an ungrateful, ignorant world filled with people, half of whom were not worth saving. He wanted to decry the sacred duty that forced him, as her Watcher, to send her out there into a danger filled world, that forced him to be prepared to sacrifice the girl he loved like his own child in the never-ending struggle of good versus evil, that was now requiring him to give her up like a common prostitute to evil itself, in fact the very epitome of evil in the form of William the Bloody—the Slayer of Slayers.

He cringed at the thought of the ritual his slayer would have to undergo, the ritual that she was, in fact, possibly already undergoing. How could he have gone along with this—even for an instant? How had he walked out of the flat and left Buffy alone with that creature? Lord only knew what he was doing to her; Spike’s agreement could have simply been a ruse to get her alone and to carve a third Slayer notch into his belt. Suddenly frantic from the direction of his thoughts, Giles downed the last of the beer, quickly grabbed his coat and, stuffing his arms awkwardly into the sleeves, stood up and made his way out into the street.

Giles hurried down the darkened streets towards home, his anguish carrying him more rapidly than his somewhat drunken state should normally have allowed. He was driven forward by one thought, running through his mind like a mantra; he simply must save his slayer. He had let her down too many times in the past, had failed her and had been unable to avert the tragedies that had befallen both her and himself as a result of his inadequacy. He refused to fail her this time. The world be buggered; Buffy needed him.

As he walked, Giles went over in his mind the words he would say, the arguments he would make to dissuade her from the very course he himself had set her upon mere hours before. His slayer may not have been the most dedicated the Council had ever known, and it may be true that she had often been quite vocal in her contempt for the Council and its methods; however, she could never be seriously accused of shirking her duty, and her dedication to combating the forces of evil was beyond question. Having spent a considerable amount of time convincing her that this course of action was necessary in order to save the world from the destruction that Angelus was determined to unleash upon it, was fairly certain that any attempt at convincing her that she should now disregard his previous arguments and for once put her own safety and well-being before that of the world would be met with fierce opposition regardless of her abhorrence of the task required of her.

After trialling and quickly dismissing as fruitless a considerable number of arguments and pleas, Giles determined that the most effective method available to him in his quest to save his duty-bound slayer was to simply remove the obligation by removing the vampire in question. A quick stake to the vampire’s heart, and he would have freed his slayer from the repulsive responsibility that he had been sickened to have placed upon her in the first place.

Having now decided on his course of action, he continued with renewed vigour his trek back to his flat and to the young girl he had abandoned earlier.

A loud scream pierced both the night and his thoughts. Turning in the direction of the sound, Giles hurried into the poorly-lit park, readying a stake as he went. He slipped as stealthily as possible through the shadows while maintaining as much speed as he was able under the circumstances; pausing to orient himself to his surroundings, he lingered momentarily in the shadows of the trees, ears straining for the slightest sound. Muffled sounds of a struggle came to him on the breeze, and he focused his attention in that direction. On a clear stretch of ground beyond the playground equipment, he could just make out the silhouettes of three vampires and their chosen meal. The girl was struggling, he could hear that much, and he could see her thrashing as they dragged her away. Without pausing to consider the odds, he threw himself into the fray, catching the vampires by surprise and easily dusting one before the others had a chance to react.

A large, hulking creature held the girl, his hand over her mouth to prevent any further screams while his other arm banded around her upper torso, pinning her arms to her sides and her body hard against his massive chest, leaving her feet dangling in midair. A blonde mop of hair hung over his eyes, obscuring to some extent the large overhang of the vampire’s extremely prominent brow. The second vampire was dwarfed by his companion; small of frame, sinewy and slight, in life he would have been no more than sixteen. He had short, neatly-trimmed raven hair and a face that could easily have been referred to as sweet had it not been distorted by the ridges that proclaimed his vampiric status. Something about the boy tugged faintly at Giles’ memory, but he pushed such concerns away as redundant; whoever this boy may have been in life, he was now no more than a cold-blooded, evil killing machine.

Giles braced himself for their retaliation, adopting a firm fighting stance and holding his stake at the ready. The massive blonde vampire dropped the girl, knowing he could easily recapture her after this foolish miscreant was dealt with. Growling furiously, he turned his attention to the man who had dared to interrupt their hunt. The other, smaller vampire also turned to fight, but kept more of a distance, allowing the large neanderthal to take the fore. Giles watched with grim satisfaction from the corner of his eye as the girl whimpered softly to herself, climbed to her feet, and ran off, stumbling into the night.

The large vampire made his move, launching himself furiously at the Watcher. Giles easily avoided the attack; Neanderthal may have been large and exceptionally muscular, but he was not, however, a graceful fighter, bulky in movement and with a tendency towards telegraphing his moves clearly to his opponent. Neither was he fast, and Giles had plenty of hours under his belt training with his slayer; a spinning kick from the watcher connected with the vampire’s back as he charged, bemusedly, past the victim he had been intent upon ploughing down, and the added impetus from the well-placed kick sent him stumbling face first to the hard-packed dirt. Giles’ eyes followed the hulking vampire’s progress to the ground; thus distracted he almost he missed the move by the smaller and more agile demon, resulting in a punishing blow that glanced off his shoulder as he quickly shifted sideways. Years of intense training at the Watcher’s Council served him well as he shut himself off from the pain in his shoulder and quickly engaged his new opponent. He was careful not to allow himself to be turned around; the last thing he needed was to be battling this new and considerably quicker rival whilst leaving himself open to a rear attack from the previous one.

Giles could feel himself tiring; he had countered several rapid attacks already, and the larger of the two vampires was slowly rising from the ground to join the attack once more. He knew that if he had to fight the two of them at once, he stood very little chance of living through this encounter. Shifting his weight onto his back foot, he feinted and threw his opponent off enough that he was able to close the short distance between himself and the behemoth who was lumbering to his feet; planting his stake in the creatures back he prayed that his aim had been true and that his backhanded blow contained enough force to penetrate the vampire’s ribs and reach into its unbeating heart. A cloud of dust swirling to enclose him was his only, although much appreciated, response to his fervent prayers. Mouthing a quick ‘thank you,’ he turned his attention once more to his remaining foe as the vampire launched an all-out attack on him. A fierce blow to the left side of his chest caught him and sent him stumbling backwards, his breath catching painfully as he felt the sharp stab of broken ribs.

Steeling himself against the pain once more he continued to fight, each blow, whether landed or received, sending a fresh jolt of pain coursing through him. He felt himself weakening, his breath now coming in quick shallow gasps and his movements becoming clumsier by the moment. Giles knew with chilling certainty that it was only a matter of time before he slipped up, and a wave of frustrated anger swept through him. He had known since becoming a Watcher that he was likely to die in the course of his duties, and he had accepted that fact years prior; the imminent fulfilment of that scenario did not in itself cause him much more than a moment’s sadness. Rather, it was the fact that his demise was coming at a time when his Slayer so greatly needed him that was the cause of his acute frustration.

The vampire closed once more with the rapidly failing human, seeking to end the fight quickly and eagerly anticipating the taste of the warm blood as it slid across his tongue and down his throat.

With a growl of anger reminiscent of the very creatures he had spent the better part of his adult life combating, in one form or another, Giles ignored the screaming pain as his broken ribs grated against each other and, grasping the vampire firmly around the head, twisted his upper body sharply with the last of his remaining strength. A slow sadistic smile slid across his face at the loud welcoming crunch of bones, and he dropped the vampire to the ground, its head twisted at a nauseating angle. He knelt and delivered a quick blow to the vampire’s chest, the wooden stake driving home to end the creature’s suffering in a swirl of dust. With a ragged sigh, he brushed himself off and climbed carefully to his feet. He still had one more vampire to deal with this night.

Pocketing the stake wearily, Giles turned to leave the park, only to come face to face with a pair of cold brown eyes, dancing with a uniquely cruel mirth.

“Well, well. Rupert. Fancy meeting you here.”

Giles felt his blood run cold just as his world went black.

tbc

 Unbeta'd at present.

Chapter 4

He laid her gently on the bed, breaking off the kiss that hadn’t stopped once on the way up the stairs. He stepped back in order to look at her, waves of gold spread around her like a cloud as her head rested on the pillow. Her green eyes gazed up at him, dark with lust. He watched appreciatively as her chest rose and fell rapidly, he could all but feel her blood pounding through her veins. The scent of her arousal hung heavily in the air and he breathed in deeply savouring the sweet taste of it on his palette.

She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, and the way her body responded to him was exhilarating. After just a few gentle kisses she was unbelievably wet, the heady perfume of her arousal combined with the potent slayer’s blood she had given him caused him to harden further and his cock ached as it pressed mercilessly against the rough unyielding denim of his jeans.  He wanted to relieve the pressure but he did not think she was ready yet for him to be naked, or even partially so. Instead he shifted slightly in an attempt to make himself more comfortable and reaching down undid his boots and kicked them and his socks off before crawling up the bed and next to the glassy-eyed slayer. Laying on his side he propped himself up on one elbow and gently stroked the hair out of her face.

The Slayer suddenly looked nervous once more, her eyes losing the glazed over look as she took in her surroundings and their implications.

“Uh… so... um… what should we… I mean…”

“Just relax, Slayer.” Spike smiled gently at her, stroking her face softly with his thumb, “no need to rush into anything, pet.” He leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of opportunity to pull away if she chose and brushed a soft, teasing kiss against her lips until he felt her respond then he slowly deepened the kiss. His tongue gently traced her lower lip, her soft sigh of contentment pleasing him more than he would have imagined and he snaked an arm around her, gathering her closer to him. His hand trailed slowly across her body long cool fingers tracing her curves with light feathery touches as his tongue gently delved between her parted lips. He gently slid his cool tongue along hers, astounded at the effect her warmth was having on him. It was all he could do not to pull her tight against him and plunder her mouth hungrily. Instead he called upon all the self-control he could muster and tasted her gently, exploring her mouth with a leisurely devotion. He couldn’t suppress the longing moan that escaped him when Buffy tentatively followed his tongue back into his mouth to begin her own timid investigations, or the sudden rush of desire which coursed through his body to his now painfully throbbing errection.

For some reason her gentle exploration and the simple trust she was placing in him touched him in ways he had never before conceived of and a wave of tenderness all but overwhelmed him.  Drawing back Spike searched the face of this slight girl whose life and destiny from this night forth would be tied to his and for the first time since the Watcher had announced his plans for them it occurred to him that things might not be as bad as he had originally thought. Yes it was true that he still loved his dark Princess, despite her betrayal, and the thought of losing her forever by claiming another still cut him to the core of his being. If, however, it were inevitable that he must claim the slayer in order to save not only himself and his beloved sire but the whole bloody world to boot, well he could do a hell of a lot worse than this pretty little thing in his arms.

He gently stroked a wayward strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he contemplated the strange events which had lead them to this moment and their far-reaching implications. He continued his deliberation whilst tenderly reclaiming her lips with his own. This may be a duty that she had to perform, but Spike saw no reason whatsoever why it should not be a pleasurable one.

Who would ever have thought that the slayer of all people would be bringing out these protective feelings in him? If he had been asked only yesterday he would have said he hated her; but with her warm arms around him and her pliant body nestled against his, her sweet tongue gently tracing his gum line and playing enticingly with his fang sheaths all he could think was how he wanted to make this good for her, wanted to erase permanently the memory of his grandsire’s heartless cruelty. His blue eyes met her green ones and he smiled affectionately at her, inexplicably thrilled to find desire and want clearly evidenced therein. He swallowed hard against the lump of unexpected emotion welling in his throat and lowered his head to nibble softly at her lips once more.

He tangled his hand gently in her hair, further deepening the kiss that was rapidly setting his body on fire and when she in turn buried her fingers in his hair a deep groan of want sounded low in his chest. With the slightest pressure against her unresisting form he pressed her back into the mattress, his own body following until he lay lightly on top of her, nestled happily between her legs with his aching cock pressed against her heated core. His lips devoured her as she matched his kisses passionately. Buffy’s hips lifted spontaneously to rub herself against him and Spike had to call upon every ounce of restraint he had learnt in over a century of existence. He relinquished her lips and began to kiss slowly along her jaw, nibbling and teasing as he made his way towards her neck.  The almost intoxicating scent of her blood racing just below the skin tantalised his demonic senses, he laved her pulse point gently with his tongue then sucked lightly, just enough to draw the taste of her to the surface. A deep moan of longing rumbled in his throat as he nuzzled into her warm soft flesh before slowly kissing and tasting his way down her neck.

Her hands roamed eagerly across his back, tracing the muscles as they rippled beneath his tight black tee. All thought was swept away in a wave of pleasure as his lips worked their way down her neck, each touch sending a thrill racing through her body and further dampening her panties. Her hips bucked as her body reached instinctively for his. His hands ran trails of fire down her body, each touch stoking her lust to greater heights as she lost herself in the oblivion of desire.

Spike smiled smugly against the soft golden skin as the last of the slayer’s defences dropped, and her body gave in completely to the craving he was so expertly building within it. His hand wandered slowly below her top, fingers rubbing soft teasing circles against her skin as he worked his way torturously toward his goal, her soft needy moans music to his ears. He brushed lightly across her lace covered nipple, her back arched as she pressed urgently toward him, unconsciously seeking greater contact, a soft mewl of longing escaping her lips. Spike grasped the hem and urged her hands above her head removing the little top in one quick motion before claiming her mouth once more with his while his fingers worked quickly and nimbly to undo the clasp and remove her bra before she had chance to voice a complaint.  Deserting her mouth he quickly captured a rosy bud, suckling gently causing it puckered eagerly in his mouth. His hands wandered, continuing their unhurried explorations of her body.

“Spike. Oh, god!”

He lifted his head to take in the sight of her; head thrown back, eyes glazed with want, her strong little hands clutching desperately at his t-shirt pulling him closer even as her back arched toward him.

A soft, derisive chuckle sounded in his throat, “Don’t quite fit the description, luv. But I’ll take it as a compliment none the less.” Before she could answer his head dropped once more, his cool breath blowing gently over her dampened nipple before he captured it between his teeth in a quick sharp nip that had her flying from the bed, whimpering hungrily. He laved her gently with his tongue, soothing the abused flesh and delighting in her hushed incoherent murmurs and whimpers of pleasure at his action.

His cocky grin transformed to one of shocked wonder at the sound of tearing material when the impatient slayer ripped his t-shirt in half, allowing her eagerly questing fingers the access they had been seeking to trace the cool skin and rippling muscles of his back. The heat from her fingers as they wandered urgently across his back sent thrills of longing burning through his body, his own moans and gasps for unneeded breath now mirroring hers. Her hips bucked up once more and he ground his errection against centre, her heat calling to him even through two layers of denim. Her soft whimpers and mewls transformed into an urgent keening as he ground against her clit and her hands dropped to his hips to clutch him tightly against her, not willing to lose the contact that she had been so desperately craving.

Spike was drowning in liquid fire, the intensity of need that was rising to consume him shocked him beyond imagining. His hand snaked between their tightly-clamped bodies, reaching for and finding the fastenings for her jeans. Popping them quickly he all but tore the material as he pushed them urgently; attempting to slide them over her hips and down. All the while having to fight against the slayer as her lust addled brain forced her to clutch him tighter still when he tried to separate their bodies enough to accomplish the task.

“S’all right, pet. Not going anywhere. Work with me here, luv,” he urged, his deep, husky voice soft against her ear.

She finally released him enough that he was able to push her jeans down far enough that she could kick them off.

“You.” Buffy mumbled against his chest as she kissed and nipped at the now-exposed flesh.

Spike’s hand ghosted across the warm golden skin of her outside thigh and up to gently cup her butt before retracing the journey back down toward her knee, gently lifting and urging her leg up and around him. Belatedly realising she had spoken he drew back slightly, cupping her chin he tilted her face up to look until she was looking at him, “What was that, pet?”

An adorable pout jutted her lip out irresistibly. “I said ‘you’. Your turn now,” with that she reached down fisting his jeans and tugging impatiently on the offending obstacle.

Spike leant in slowly; capturing her lip gently between his teeth he traced it teasingly with his tongue. He sucked lightly, drawing the sweet, tangy taste of her blood to the surface before devouring her in a suddenly-urgent kiss. When they drew apart once more, both gasping desperately for breath, he reached between them once more to comply with her demand, “Whatever you want, slayer.” The barest hint of a chuckle coloured his husky desire-filled voice.

He hissed in relief when his errection finally sprang free of the harsh denim restraint and nudged against her damp cotton covered pussy as he kicked his jeans impatiently off the ends of his legs to fall puddled with hers on the floor. Long since lost to the glorious sensations that Spike was expertly subjecting her to, Buffy moaned and cried in urgent demand. She wriggled against him, rubbing her clit against the over-sensitised head of his cock, whimpering his name as she clutched him to her. Spike swallowed hard, desperate to regain his self-control despite the girl’s continued movements.

“Slayer. Buffy.” He stroked her face softly, willing her to open her eyes and look at him, “C’mon, kitten. Look at me.” When her lust glazed eyes opened they stared through him.  She was panting rapidly, her lips parted and her heart pounding as she clutched him desperately to her. Rather than continuing to pull away from her Spike changed tactics, pressing his hips harder against her he pinned her hard against the mattress stilling her movements.

She blinked away the fog covering her eyes, focusing for the first time in a while on the vampire’s face.  “Wha… huh?” Buffy tried to make sense of what was happening, what Spike was saying to her and why he had a grim, determined look on his face even while hie piercing blue eyes burned with lust. His gentle touch on her face, the soft melodious tone of his voice and the continued deprivation of stimulation worked to bring her slowly back to herself and she released her vice-like on him. Worry replacing the fevered lust that had burned so brightly in her eyes only moments before.

“Shh. S’alright, kitten. Just need to slow down a little is all. Damned near made me lose it before we’ve even begun. You turn me into a bleedin’ school boy, luv.” He sought her lips in a soft, reassuring kiss, “You’re so bloody beautiful,” he breathed against her. His tongue traced her bottom lip and then slowly delved between her still-parted lips to dance leisurely with hers. He felt her sigh as her body relaxed and he released the pressure with which he had forcibly stilled her. “Wanna do right by you, pet.” He pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes boring into hers as he studied her for a moment. Deciding she was thinking clearly once more he allowed the corners of his mouth to quirk upwards. The cheeky smirk and waggling eyebrows as he teased, “Now, what say we lose the knickers and do this properly, “ earning a half embarrassed giggle from the girl beneath him.

“I’m sorry...” she started only to be cut off by a gentle kiss.

“Shh. Never need to apologise for wantin’ me.” His eyes bored once more into hers, leaving her in no doubt as to his sincerity. “I’m the one should be sorry, luv. You’re just so bloody gorgeous; make me want you so much.” He dipped his head capturing her lips once more with his as one hand strayed to her hip, hooking the side of her panties with his thumb and pushed them down as she shimmied helpfully. Breaking off the rapidly intensifying kiss Spike sat up and drew the scrap of cotton down her tanned legs, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of her. Crawling back up the bed toward her, he stopped on his journey to dip his head down, planting a teasing kiss to her damp folds. His tongue reached out quickly to taste her before continuing to prowl up her body, growling softly as he came to rest with his hips nestled comfortably between her thighs and his cock nudging at her entrance, his lips claiming hers in a bone-melting kiss.

Buffy didn’t think she had ever seen anything as deliciously erotic as Spike crawling towards her, his eyes burning with desire and looking for all the world like the dangerous predator that he truly was. The soft growl that vibrated through his body and into hers had her melting into a warm puddle of Spike-induced goo, a bolt of desire shot through her body and her hips reached instinctively for him. She felt the soft head of his cock pressing eagerly against her entrance and with a hungry mewl she reached for him, her hands on his hips, urging him toward her, her hips lifting further.  He growled hungrily against her mouth, pressing his hips forward and sliding into her warmth. As the hot velvet of her inner walls closed around him and her ankles came up to lock together around his butt pulling him closer, deeper into her welcoming heat, he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

He tried to slow down, to pace himself and last a little longer, but her breathless pleas, his name cried out in hushed, desperate need was his undoing. Giving in to the lust that was consuming him he pounded into her, angling his thrusts to hit the spongy bundle of nerves inside her with every stroke, and twisting his hips just so to rub against her throbbing clit. Within mere moments a powerful wave of pleasure overwhelmed them both as their orgasms hit; her strong vaginal walls milked his shaft, intensifying his pleasure as he continued to drive into her prolonging hers until they both collapsed, shattered by the sheer intensity of their coupling.

They lay like that for a while, their bodies joined, Spike having collapsed slightly off to the side so as not to have his weight resting on her. He lay listening to her ragged breathing and her pounding heart as they slowly came back to normal; the scent of their lovemaking filled his nostrils and her warm, pliant body lay wrapped in his arms. A wave of contentment washed over him. He reached out to lightly brush the soft skin of her face with his thumb, his eyes happily drinking in the sight of her, flushed and glowing from their exertions. Buffy smiled hesitantly at him; the look of awe on his face and shining in his beautiful eyes as he looked at her was at the same time infinitely gratifying and incredibly terrifying. Catching his hand with hers she brought his fingers to her lips, kissing each one gently and nibbling softly on the tips; all the while her eyes held captive by his piercing blue gaze. She moaned quietly when his weight shifted back on top of her, and buried her fingers in the tousled curls at his nape as his lips once more sought hers in a long, slow, intoxicating kiss.

In a slow measured pace, Spike began moving within her, his hands languidly explored her body while his mouth was once more occupied with hers. Their kisses were unhurried, tongues sliding against each other, tasting and exploring gently. Her hands roamed casually across his body as if mapping every inch to store away for later perusal. With none of the frantic urgency of their previous coupling they slowly rebuilt the fire each exploring their lover’s body, with hands, lips, teeth and tongues. Light kisses peppered across jaws and down necks, gentle nips and soothing licks, teasing hands whispering over exposed skin and the long, slow, steady rhythm of their hips as they climbed steadily back toward release.

Buffy’s orgasm hit her unexpectedly, the delicious warm sensations her lover was slowly building up within her suddenly culminating to send her shuddering and gasping into seemingly never-ending waves of bliss. Spike held her, watching her face as it filled with pleasure, whispering words of praise against her ear and peppering her throat with soft kisses as he fought for his own control. Stroking her he waited until her breathing evened out and her eyes refocused before claiming her lips in a gentle kiss and breathing softly, “You back with me, kitten?”

Buffy looked up, all but drowning in a stormy sea of blue, she cupped his face gently her thumb running slowly back and forth across one exquisite knife-edged cheekbone, she knew what he was asking her and steeling herself for what she knew was to come she answered him with more conviction than she felt, “Yeah, I’m here.”

Spike kissed her once more before trailing gentle kisses along her jaw to her ear, gently lipping then sucking on her earlobe causing little tremors of pleasure throughout her body. He worked his way down with little kisses and nips until he felt her pulse pounding beneath his lips, the scent of her rich blood assaulting his senses and a soft moan escaped him as he laved her skin tenderly, suckling gently, licking and kissing. All of Buffy’s fears melted away under the torturous pleasure of his lips against her throat and when his razor-sharp fangs slid effortlessly into her vein all she felt was the slightest sting, followed by an almost overwhelmingly intense pleasure as he took a long deep draw of her blood followed by another, his tongue then laved gently against her skin, healing and soothing as he breathed, “Mine” his cool breath sending further shivers of pleasure rippling through her. A gentle nudge of reminder brought her back to herself, “Yours,” she agreed, holding him fast against her. He fastened his lips once more on his mark, suckling gently on the now-healed flesh hurtling her body into the blinding pleasure of yet another orgasm; this time bringing her mate along with her.

Spike brushed a wispy tendril away from her face, a gentle smile curving his mouth and lending an almost boyish-innocence to his features as he watched her sleep, her head pillowed on his chest, her arm flung across him with her warm hand settled almost possessively against his hip. Her powerful blood coursed through every cell in his body, healing the last of the damage and subsequent months of neglect. She was a part of him now. More than just her life-essence given freely from her veins, more than just the intimate pleasures they had just shared. She was his mate, and that bond called to him, but more even than that. There was something about her that tugged at his unbeating heart in a way no other ever had—not even his beloved Drusilla.   He vowed silently to himself that no harm would ever befall her, or the child that the Watcher’s prophecy had declared would be theirs. He would be dust before he’d let anything happen to either of them.

tbc

Chapter 5

Buffy stretched and burrowed deeper into her pillow—the pillow which then moaned softly and gathered her closer. Huh? She opened her eyes and blinked slowly as memories fought their way through the sleepy fog. She looked down at the ‘pillow’ she had been so happily snuggled against. Spike. Her face flushed a deep burning red as the memories of what they had done the previous night flooded her brain;  she scooted backwards away from him, almost falling off the bed in her haste, only to be rescued from an ungainly tumble by the strong arm which snaked out and captured her as she teetered on the edge. Drawing her close against his side, murmuring quiet, soothing words into her hair, Spike snuggled her close, his arm banded tightly around her and his soft, sleepy tones trying to lull her back into slumber.

Buffy squirmed in his embrace, her struggles bringing him fully to consciousness. “Buffy, luv, what’s wrong? Go back to sleep. ‘s early,” he tried to reason with her, but when she planted her hot little hands against his chest and pushed backwards he had no choice but to wake up and try to work out what exactly it was that had his mate so upset. Propping himself on one elbow and rubbing his face to try and clear the sleep from his mind, he looked up at her through half-lidded eyes. She was sitting up, the sheet clutched against her breasts, as far from him as she could get without falling off the bed.

“Buffy. Please, kitten, tell me what’s wrong.” The rising sun pulled at him, telling him it was time to sleep, and he fought hard to break through the fog of confusion and drowsiness.

“We are. This is,” Buffy summed up succinctly. Her lower lip trembled slightly at the too-appealing sight of the sleepy vampire, and she told herself firmly once again that any smoochiness with evil vampires, no matter how sweet and sexy and unbelievably good in bed they were, was completely out of the question and wrong in every possible way.

“Why is this wrong, luv? Isn’t this your Sacred Duty or some such rot?” Spike growled, his tone harsh in order to keep the hurt from his voice. “Seems to me you’re being a good little slayer and following your Watcher’s orders nicely.”

A muffled sob sounded as she fought to smother her immediate response to his angrily ground out words; dropping her eyes to her sheet-covered lap, she muttered something quietly between heartbreaking sniffs and hiccups.

“Can’t hear you, slayer,” he snapped. Her misery ripped at him, but her rejection had stung more than he cared to admit and he sought refuge, as always, in the angrily spoken words and harsh actions which hid the pain.

Buffy drew a deep, shuddering breath, and without raising her eyes from her lap, spoke again. “I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it, or care about you. No caring about the evil undead; that leads to badness and people getting killed and…”

“’s that what this is all about?” Spike sat up quickly and, grabbing her arms none too gently, he forced her to look at him. “I am not the poof,” he stated, enunciating each word clearly. “I’m nothing bloody like him, pet. I don’t use little girls. I don’t make it a point to torment every one who ever loved me or who made me feel something for them. I don’t play mind games, kitten. If I wanna kill you, you know about it, an’ I’ll take you on face to face. I don’t have some twisted bleedin’ mission to destroy the world.”  His voice softened and he reached out to gently stroke away the tears that tracked slowly down her face. “And above all else, I don’t desert that which is mine.”

Miserable green eyes locked with intensely burning blue. “Spike, I…” Strong arms gathered her close, and she sobbed helplessly into his neck as he stroked her hair and soothed her with gently-spoken words. When her sobs eventually subsided and he felt her relax into his arms, he gathered her up and, turning her sideways, cradled her on his lap; her face automatically burrowed back into the security of his neck as her arms snaked around him, holding tightly to her mate. “You’re sure it isn’t the claim making me feel this way?” she asked quietly, not quite sure what answer she was hoping for in response.

He brushed a kiss against the top of her head before pushing her gently back so that her eyes met his. “Nothing to do with the claim, luv. ‘s’ all my natural charm and… talent,” he leered teasingly, earning a smile and a half-hearted slap on the arm.

“Ego much!?” she accused lightly, not quite finding it in her to deny his words.

“’s’god’s honest truth,” he replied playfully before his features turned serious once more. “Nothing either of us is feeling is the claim, Buffy. It doesn’t work that way; told you that before.” He brushed a soft kiss against her mouth, nibbling lightly at her bottom lip before drawing back with a sigh. “Everything we’re feeling is us, luv… everything.”

She searched his eyes, and as he watched her seeking confirmation of his words he was struck once again by how young and vulnerable the supernaturally-strong girl in his arms truly was. Her lip trembled as she spoke once more in the tiny, lost-little-girl voice that ripped at his unbeating heart and made him wish for nothing more than to hold her close and shelter her from the world forever. “I’m scared, Spike.”

“I know, luv. I know you are. But you’re not alone any more, ‘kay? I promise you that.”

“You won’t leave me?”

Spike cursed his grandsire anew for the insecurity in his beautiful girl’s voice, and swore silently that he would find ways to make him pay for what he had done to her. “Never, luv. Not ‘til I’m dust.” He captured her mouth, kissing her gently but thoroughly as he lay back on the bed, rolling them to the side as he gathered her close against him. “Now go back to sleep. Sun’s barely up; ‘s too bloody early for either of us to be awake.” 

Buffy relaxed against him, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster ride of the last twenty-four hours. Spike’s arms wrapped close around her, the soft nuzzling against her hair and the gentle, soothing purr that began low in his chest lulling her back into a deep, restorative sleep.

*****

Giles’ eyes opened to the murky darkness that surrounded him. The first things he noticed were that his shoulders burned and his head throbbed; additionally, he was naked from the waist up, and seemed to be suspended spreadeagled from the ceiling by his wrists. The manacles used to bind him had bitten deep into flesh, and a slow trickle of blood ran down his arm. He lifted his head slowly, suppressing the groan that threatened to escape as his tortured muscles stretched and flexed, and looked surreptitiously around the large room, quickly taking in the rough brick of the walls, the cold, bare concrete floor, and the one small window high on the wall covered by the thick, dark curtain that blocked all light from the outside world. With no light, he had no way of judging how long he had been here, strung up like a carcass in a butcher’s shop.

A movement at the far side of the room drew his eye, and he noted the two large goons stationed near the room’s only door.  The two men were seated at a small table, and their quiet mutterings and quick flashes of hands as they moved across the table were the only movements in the room. Giles watched the men for a few moments before he realised that they were passing their time on watch with a game of cards; he recognised the soft rustling of the cards being shuffled, the quiet curses as a hand was lost. With his keepers’ attention focused elsewhere, he turned his head to look more carefully around the room, searching for some indication of his whereabouts and any possible methods of escape. The room was sparsely furnished; other than the small table by the door that the guards occupied, the only other visible objects in the room were another, larger wooden table positioned in the centre of the room. Several items on the table were covered by a large white towel; additionally, a hose sat coiled on the floor by the table one end leading off across the floor to the wall near the darkened window, the other resting on the bare concrete, the bright orange pressure nozzle vivid in the dim light.

Looking down at himself, Giles noted that along with his shirt, his shoes and socks had also been removed. The tightly stretched arches screamed with the same burning pain as his aching shoulders, the tips of his toes scarcely brushing the ground at full stretch. He still had his pants, but his belt was gone. He took a quick mental inventory; apart from sorely abused muscles and overstretched tendons, the only injury he seemed to carry was from the blow he had taken to the back of his head; the tender spot throbbed painfully, but the pain was the dull pounding ache of deep bruising. As far as he could tell, no bones were broken, and he had so far sustained no damage that would prove debilitating or should in any way hamper his escape—should the opportunity present itself.

*****

Spike opened his eyes to a soft, green gaze. Buffy lay on her side, propped on one elbow, a position from which, for the last hour, she had been watching him sleep. So much had happened in such a short time, and her mind still struggled to keep up.  She knew that the events of the last twenty-four hours would have far-reaching consequences, that the reality of her having a vampire mate was probably more than her friends, her Watcher and her mother would be able to deal with, and that was without taking into account the baby that their mating was supposed to produce. But as she watched him sleep, his boyish face so peaceful and content, she somehow couldn’t find it in her to care, not now; she would worry about it later.  As his eyes blinked sleepily open, she found herself captured once more in their cerulean depths.

She smiled tentatively at him, remembering her earlier tantrum with a mixture of horror and shamed regret.  “Hey.” She reached out to run her fingers lightly down the sharp line of his cheekbone. “Sorry for…you know…earlier.” Buffy ducked her head, escaping the piercing gaze that always left her feeling more naked than anything they had done in this bed during the night. 

“Shh, kitten. No need for that.” He lifted her chin until her eyes once more met his. “You have nothing to apologise for, Buffy.” He leaned towards her to claim her lips, only to have her pull away, her voice firm as she continued.

“Yes, I do, Spike. You didn’t deserve any of that. So… do you accept my apology, or not?” 

Spike bit gently into the inside of his cheeks, every instinct screaming that the laugh that was trying so hard to burst free—caused by her serious little face and the false bravado which was betrayed by only the slightest tremble of that completely lickable lower lip—would not only not earn him any points with his mate but would, in fact, get him in more trouble with her than he ever wanted to be in.

“In that case, I accept your apology, luv. Now can I have a kiss?” He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a slow, seductive smile as he once more moved to capture her mouth with his own.

Having received the sought-after forgiveness, Buffy happily gave in to his request for a kiss, her hand reaching out to toy playfully with his curls as his lips worked their incredible magic. Oh god, I could get used to waking up to this. She melted against him as he drew her close to his side, his hands caressing gently as they roamed across her body. She was drowning once more in the overwhelming sensations that Spike was able to draw from her with seemingly no effort; the sensual slide of his tongue against hers, the brush of his fingers, feather-light across her skin, and his lips tracing trails of fire down her neck. She moaned urgently against his mouth, her own hands actively seeking to trace every inch of her lover’s body.

They made love leisurely, with gentle kisses and soft caresses, gazing into each other’s eyes as they gave willingly of themselves, each knowing that their actions had crossed beyond that of unpleasant necessity and into something—more, something that it was far simpler to ignore than to try to fathom. So they remained silent while their bodies spoke of new beginnings and the promise of things to come.

*****

Buffy snuggled into Spike’s chest, the languor of afterglow lulling her gently once more towards sleep, and she fought the urge to give in to it and the slow soothing rhythm of his hand as it rubbed unconsciously up and down her arm. Stifling a contented yawn, she tilted her head and looked up into her mate’s eyes. “Spike?” she ventured, uncertainly.

“Yeah, kitten?” His hand moved from her arm to run lightly down her back; he was satisfied just to be touching her, and feeling no particular need to fight the sated drowsiness that pulled at him, his eyes began drifting closed once more.

“You should feed.” She spoke quietly but surely; she had given plenty of thought to what she wanted to say, and was well prepared for any arguments the vampire may voice in objection.

Spike slid slowly from beneath her, rolling to his side so they were facing; he looked deep into her eyes, gauging her sincerity, before answering her.

“You’re sure about this, luv?”

Buffy smiled gently, grateful that he hadn’t made her fight him on this. “Yeah, I’m sure. I need you strong; if we’re going to have any chance of defeating him, I need you at your strongest. The only way that’s going to happen is if you feed, and I am so not having you running around biting anyone… so it’s up to me. Besides, my blood’s the best, right? I mean, I saw how the little bit you had healed you. So if you feed on me every day…”  She reached out and stroked his face; leaning in, she brushed a soft kiss against his lips before continuing. “Besides, it’s kinda… nice,” she admitted, a deep, warm blush colouring her cheeks, and Spike couldn’t prevent the smile that tugged at his lips; reaching out, he gathered her close, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.

*****

His life had certainly taken a hell of a turn in the last twenty-four hours but with his arms full of warm, willing slayer and the delectable taste of her potent blood as it poured across his tongue and down his throat, he could not find it in him to mind in the slightest. He withdrew his fangs, gently laving his mark before nuzzling tenderly against her neck, her contented sigh music to his ears as he gathered her pliant body closer.

They cuddled for a while, finding a security in each other’s gentle embrace that defied both logic and nature. After what was, in Spike’s opinion, too brief a time, Buffy’s head shot up from its resting place against his chest, a worried frown creasing her face.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” he asked as he pressed a soft kiss against her brow.

“Giles. He should have been back hours ago.” Buffy cursed herself that she had only just realised her watcher’s prolonged absence.

Spike stilled, reaching out with his senses as he searched the house in the hopes that the git was merely asleep or sulking on the couch. The only sign of life he encountered was that of the worried girl in his arms.

*****

Cool fingers traced slowly up his back, and small involuntary shudders jolted through him, despite his determination to deny his captor the satisfaction of a response. He swallowed hard, his tormented muscles spasming, and bit back the pained cry as the damp cane landed stingingly across the recently caressed skin. His head was jerked backwards suddenly as fingers tangled cruelly in his hair, brown eyes burning with intensity boring into his soul before surprisingly gentle lips brushed against his forehead.

“Now, tell me you are pleased to see me, Rupert.”

“Go to hell,” he ground out, his eyes drifting closed in self-rebuke. Just ignore the bastard, he admonished himself; whatever you do, don’t react.

“Oh, I imagine that is a given, don’t you?” Laughter echoed around the room, ringing loud in Giles’ ears after the deathly silence. “But then, I expected no less. Don’t tell me you think any other fate awaits you; or did you think your little stint as a Council do-gooder would absolve you of all your previous sins?”

Chapter 6

“Oh god, Spike. Where could he be? If something has happened to him…”

“Shh. Easy, pet. You’ll find him. But you need to calm down; you won’t be any good to him in this state.” He tried to soothe his mate, reaching out to stroke her hair only to have her pull roughly away.

Green eyes flashed angrily, turning their focus on the unsuspecting vampire. “And what state would that be, Spike? Are you saying I can’t do my job?” Buffy lashed out. She was terrified; she knew what Angelus had done to Jenny, and to countless others over the years. Visions of Giles’ mutilated corpse played through her mind in bright, bold technicolour, leaving her feeling helpless.  With no idea of what to do or where to start, she did the only thing she could—she turned furiously on her lover. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made him leave. If you had…”

“What? Let him stay and take notes? ‘s that really what you wanted?” Spike offered, eyes flashing amber and then back to cold, flinty blue. He stepped forward quickly and folded her close in his arms, pinning her against his chest like a spitting, snarling wildcat. He sighed deeply, releasing the bitterness her words had aroused. “Buffy, you know you don’t mean any of it. Now come on, kitten, stop this and let’s work out how to get your Watcher back.” He planted soft kisses against her hair and held on until her struggles ceased and she relaxed into him, all the fight and impotent fury draining from her body.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” Buffy said as she sagged against him.

“Yeah, well, don’t have time for that right now, Slayer.  Not if you’re wantin’ to find your watcher.”

Buffy felt his body tense against her. The sharp tone in his voice and the firm set of his jaw spoke volumes as to the damage she had inflicted. She ached to make things right with him, but he was right—they didn’t have time. It would just have to keep until later.

*****

Giles’ hair hung limp and wet across his face; his back stung from numerous cuts and welts, his muscles aching from continued strain and uncontrollable shivering. The broken ribs throbbed, his every movement causing them to grind mercilessly. He had been hosed several times, the cold water hitting him in harsh stinging jets like thousands of needles piercing his skin. The thin flexible cane, expertly applied, had left stinging trails across his body. He was tired, sore, and heartsick. Memories lashed at him even more harshly and unforgivingly than the bitter, cruel treatment of his captor.

Looking into the cold, angry eyes of the man before him, Giles found himself mourning the loss of the eager youth he had known so long ago. “Ethan…”

“No! Don’t ‘Ethan’ me. You did this, you pillock. You. You don’t get to judge me. You left.”

“I’m sorry.” Giles’ hushed tone was tinged with deep regret.

Ethan spun furiously, whipping the cane around and striking hard across Giles’ cheek; blood welled, and then ran in slow trickles down his face.

“You’re sorry. Well, that’s big of you. So tell me, Ripper, do you think that covers it? You say you’re sorry and I just forget? Forget that you walked out? Left me… left everything! For what? A bloody tweed coat and Daddy’s approval? Everything that we… that you stood against…”

“We killed someone. Don’t you see, I couldn’t… I had to leave.” Giles was weary, not merely from the hours of torture and abuse, but from the weight of too many years of pain and guilt that despite his every effort he had been unable to exorcise.

*****

Buffy re-entered the bedroom, rapidly towelling her hair before struggling still-damp legs into her jeans. She watched silently, a small frown creasing her face as Spike slammed open drawers, rummaging through them and muttering quietly to himself. He looked gorgeous; he was clad once again in his skin-tight black jeans, bare-chested, his skin damp from his recent shower, soft, damp curls adorning his head as he stormed around the room, searching haphazardly through her watcher’s belongings. A fresh string of what she was pretty sure were curses tumbled from his lips as he finally pulled a white t-shirt from a drawer. He sneered in disgust and pulled it quickly over his head.

“Hey, that’s Giles’ shirt! Spike, you can’t just wear his clothes,” Buffy protested.

“Yeah? Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you went an’ slayed mine,” he smirked, prowling towards her, his eyes pinning her in place. She swallowed hard, her tongue snaking out to dampen suddenly dry lips as he reached for her. Spike took the towel from her hands. “Let me help you with that,” he purred, his lips twitching at her soft disappointed moan when he moved to her back and gently but vigorously dried the soft golden tresses.

“So, what’s the plan, luv?” he breathed against her ear.

“Huh?”

“Your watcher. How you plannin’ on finding him?” The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, somewhat mollifying his lingering resentment at her earlier treatment of him. Spike realised that no matter how gratifying, now was probably not the time to be getting the slayer all hot; regretfully, he turned the sex-appeal down a notch or two.

“Well, slayer?” he urged, dropping the towel and finger combing the almost-dry locks into place.

Buffy sighed and turned to face him. “I don’t know, Spike. I just know I have to try.” He pretended not to see the slight quiver in her bottom lip, or the fear shining brightly in her eyes. She was The Slayer, and she needed to be strong; he wasn’t going be doing her any favours by mollycoddling her.

“Well, you need to think, pet. Where would he go? Who might know where he’d be?” He watched the uncertainty lift as her mind kicked into gear, a small frown creasing her brow as she ran through possibilities.

“Ok. Well, first I guess I’ll call around, see if Will or Xander have heard from him. If that doesn’t work, I get to go beat up Willy; even if he doesn’t know anything, at least it will make me feel a bit better.”

She grabbed the phone and started dialling, plonking herself down on the bed as she waited for the other person to pick up. Spike watched silently as she phoned around, grilling her friends for any information that might help her find the missing watcher. He schooled his features, appearing completely relaxed and at ease, leaning almost indolently against the wall; looks, however, could be very deceiving. Spike watched as the slayer’s bare breasts bounced lightly as she talked animatedly to her friends, and he fought the tightly sprung coil of energy within; he wanted to pace, or better yet to rip the phone out of the girl’s hand, throw her back on the bed and make her forget all about her bleeding ponce of a watcher. Instead he waited, the picture of indifference, while she completed her calls.

*****

“What I see is someone who sold out to the very thing he professed to hate. Someone I trusted, who I was stupid enough to think would never betray me; someone who up and left in the middle of the night without so much as a Dear bloody John letter. I trusted you.”

“I’m s…”

“No! I told you I don’t want to hear ‘I’m sorry.’” The muscle in Ethan’s cheek twitched as his jaw clenched in barely restrained fury.

Frustration, exhaustion, and the strain of continued pain and years of regrets and what-if’s finally caused him to snap. “Well, what do you want to hear? What else am I supposed to say? I am sorry. You think I’m not? You think it was easy for me to walk away? Well, it wasn’t. I left because of what we—what I did. Don’t you see I had to?” He sought his captor’s eyes, holding them steadily. “I couldn’t risk destroying you, too. I was trying to protect you.” The last was spoken in a heartbroken whisper, his eyes drifting closed as his head hung in misery. There were many regrets in his life, some recent, some not so—but the man before him represented the greatest of all his regrets rolled neatly into one lean and still, to his eyes, beautifully handsome package.

Long moments passed as he waited silently for the next round of beatings to begin. He deserved them; he knew that, and in some dark recess of his brain he welcomed them as just payment for the foolish, arrogant, ignorant deeds of his youth. He had tried over the years to make up, in some small way at least, for the suffering he had caused, but no matter what he did he could ever fully atone—not for releasing unspeakable evil into this world, not for the death of friends, and never for the betrayal of one whom he loved. It occurred to him that all he ever did was bring pain and suffering to those he loved. Ethan. Jenny. And then there was his latest betrayal—placing the daughter of his heart into the hands and bed of a cold-blooded murderer. A shudder racked his body and a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh sounded in his ears, it was a few moments before he realised that he was responsible for the strange, demented sound.

Gentle fingers traced his cheek, cupping his chin and forcing him to lift his head. His eyes fluttered open as soft lips brushed gently against his in the barest whisper of a caress. Giles watched in wonder as Ethan carefully undid the manacles, taking care not to disturb the broken, bruised skin any more than was necessary. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, supporting him as he made his way slowly and painfully across the room to the door.  There, the last his strength deserted him, and he sagged gratefully into one of the hard wooden chairs.

*****

No one had heard from him, nor did they have any idea who or even if he had any friends in town. Buffy had quickly finished dressing and headed out into the bright, sunny afternoon to search the town, leaving one severely pissed off vampire glaring furiously in the direction of the sun from the safety of the shaded doorway.

Hours had passed, and Spike had all but worn a track in the carpet as he paced frantically, waiting either for the sun to set or for Buffy to come home. He didn’t like being separated from her; somehow he knew she was alright, knew that he would feel something if she was in danger or hurt, but knowing that didn’t make the wait any easier. As the afternoon wore on, his worry had increased exponentially, resulting in his current caged-panther impersonation.

So it was that when Buffy finally made her way back to her watcher’s house, none the wiser for her afternoon of searching, she stepped through the door only to be engulfed in the tight, smothering embrace of an extremely distraught master vampire.

“Spike. Can’t breathe.” She squirmed in his arms, pushing back against his chest as she fought for air.

Spike released his death-grip on her, looking somewhat abashed as he muttered quietly, “’m sorry, luv. Was just getting worried about you, is all. Don’t like you being out there, maybe needing some help, an’ I’m stuck inside like some useless bloody git waitin’ for the sun to go down.”

“It’s ok, Spike. It’s kinda nice that you were worried about me.” A small giggle escaped her lips, and at Spike’s glare and inquiringly raised eyebrow she added, “although I think that is the closest you have ever actually come to killing me. Maybe you should have started worrying about me months ago.”

At his growl, she squeaked and took off running for the stairs, only to be caught up once again before she had gone more than a few steps. “No fair using vampire speed,” she laughed as he lifted her off her feet, his lips and blunt teeth worrying at her neck as he continued to growl softly. She relaxed back against him, allowing her head to drop back against his shoulder as her hands snaked up to tangle in the soft blonde curls. She felt him change seconds before his sharp fangs pierced her skin, burying deep into her neck. He took a long deep pull of her blood, her soft moan of pleasure assuring him that she understood that the bite was not intended to harm in anyway. Withdrawing his fangs, he licked gently at the small wounds, closing and healing them before nuzzling into her. “Missed you, kitten. Don’t like not knowing if you’re alright.”

She rubbed her cheek gently against his, enjoying the contact and realising that she had missed him too. “So that was like, what? A lovebite?” she asked, keeping her tone light and stroking his hair gently.

“Pretty much, yeah.” He set her on her feet and turned her gently until she faced him. “You ok with that?” he asked cautiously.

Buffy’s million-watt smile surprised him as she nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah, more than ok! You just might want to watch when you do it… you know, maybe not such a good idea in front of people.” Her smile faded and her face turned serious as she reached out, cupping his cheek and running her thumb rhythmically along his cheekbone. “Spike. Earlier, I… I was wrong. I had no right treating you like that.” She looked up into his eyes, hoping for forgiveness, for his strong arms around her and his voice telling her that it was ok.

“Yeah, Buffy, you were.” His jaw twitched beneath her fingers and his eyes hardened at her reminder. “I know you were upset, an’ scared… but you don’t take it out on me. We clear on that? I’m not your whipping-boy, pet. ‘m not your punching bag, or your pet bloody vampire you take out for walks when it suits you. I’m your mate. Nothin’ is gonna change that, but it’s up to you what that means. We did what your watcher wanted, so we’re done, no need for you to have to put up with me touchin’ you any more.” Her sharply indrawn breath, increased heart-rate and the slight tremble of her lip told him what her body’s answer was; now he just needed to see what came out of that pretty little mouth. “If you want the whole deal, ‘m yours, Buffy. But I won’t be your dirty little secret either; if we’re together, pet, we’re together. You follow me?”

She knew what he was offering her—a get-out-of-jail-free—and it was up to her if she wanted to take it. She also knew that, even if she opted for the out, he would still be there, would help her. But there would be no smoochies, none of the soft touches or mind blowing kisses and definitely none of the… other. And oh God, how she wanted the other.  And him, she realised; it was him she wanted.

“I follow, Spike.” Her fingers continued along his cheekbone to the back of his head and tangled deep in the curls she had quickly come to adore. Reaching up on tip-toe, she traced his lips softly with hers before capturing them fully in a deep, longing kiss.

tbc               Read  Days of Blood and Wine (a short Giles-centric companion piece.)

ever to my wonderful beta AmyB!!

Chapter 7

After quickly filling Spike in on the details of her day—the dead ends and the completely disheartening lack of any kind of lead—the pair made their way across town to Buffy’s house, where they had planned to meet up with Willow and Xander.  

Arriving home, Buffy opened the door and walked through, only to be pulled up short when the hand she was holding was stopped dead by an impenetrable, invisible barrier. “Wha..?” she asked, confused, before realisation slowly dawned on her face. “Oh, god, Spike. I’m sorry. Come in. Please.” As he stepped across the threshold to join her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and claimed his mouth tenderly. “I’m so sorry, baby. I forgot,” she whispered. 

“’s’ok, luv.” Spike grinned against her lips, pleased both by her attention and her obvious distress at having forgotten to invite him in. 

“Buffy? Honey, who is your… friend?” Her mother’s concerned voice drifted from the living room; Buffy quickly released Spike’s lips, keeping hold of his hand as she turned and led him in to formally meet her mother, all the while wondering how she could somehow explain the situation without giving her mom a heart attack in the process. 

***** 

He awoke to darkness once again, although this darkness was somehow comforting. His head rested on a pillow, and warm, soft bedding was pulled up around him, the crisp cotton soothing against sorely abused flesh. He blinked his eyes slowly in an attempt to clear away some of the fog of confusion. He remembered gentle hands washing away the blood, tending carefully to his wounds and bruises, remembered the same hands skilfully binding the broken ribs that had ground painfully with every breath. 

Ethan. 

As if conjured by his thought, the door opened and his captor quietly entered, a tray balanced carefully in one hand. 

“Ah, you’re awake. Good to see.” 

“How long?” His voice was a painful croak when he attempted speech, and his eyes screwed tightly closed in frustration. 

“Not that long. A few hours. Get some soup into you and then sleep some more.” Ethan set the tray down on the bedside table and reached down to lift him gently into a sitting position, propping him up comfortably with some pillows before sitting on the bed and pressing a cup of tea to his lips. 

“I’m not a bloody invalid, I’ll have you know,” Giles objected indignantly before erupting into a fit of coughing. 

Ethan waited for the coughing fit to subside; arching an eyebrow at the exhausted man in the bed, he asked calmly, “Are you quite finished now?” At Giles’ weak nod, he lifted the cup once more to his patient’s mouth. “Good. Now drink up.” 

***** 

Having spent an exhaustive hour explaining to the slayer’s mum all about demons and vampires, adding in the fact that her daughter was the Chosen One and detailing all of the implications of that destiny, Spike was not looking forward to the next part of their conversation.  Nor was he all that sure that Joyce was quite up to it after the shocks she had already received that evening. He reached out and gently squeezed Buffy’s hand, drawing her attention for a moment. 

“Why don’t we go get your mum a nice cuppa, luv?” He looked intently into her eyes, willing her to go along with his rather flimsy excuse to get them a moment’s private conversation. “Would you like that, Joyce?” he asked gently; at the woman’s dazed nod he stood, pulling Buffy along with him. “Buffy can show me where you keep everything; we won’t be long,” he promised as he left the room, pulling an unresisting but still-confused Slayer in his wake. 

Once in the kitchen, Spike put the kettle on as Buffy gathered the wherewithal to make the tea. “So, wanna tell me why we’re in here making tea?” Buffy asked quietly. 

Spike smiled and moved to gather his girl into his arms, planting a quick kiss to her forehead and nuzzling momentarily into her hair. “Just wanted a word is all, luv.” His face turned serious as he pulled back to look her in the eye. “Don’t know that your mum is quite up to the rest of the news, kitten. Might be an idea to give her a little time to get used to the whole slayer/vampire thing before springin’ the news about us being mated and you having to get pregnant in order to save the world.” 

“I’m not going to keep it from her, Spike.” Buffy frowned, wondering why he didn’t want her mom to know about them; was he ashamed to admit they were together? 

“Not asking you to keep it from her; just sayin’ it might be an idea to give her a little time for what we’ve already told her to sink in, is all. Don’t wanna overload her with too much all at once.” He reached out, gently stroking a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear. “Let her get used to ‘us’ before we spring the ‘the bit’ on her too.” 

A relieved smile spread across Buffy’s face, and she tilted her head to snuggle her cheek into his hand before pressing a kiss against his palm. “So you don’t mind her knowing about us.” 

“Mind?” Spike asked incredulously. “Bloody hell, you silly bint, is that what you thought? C’mere.” He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms and murmuring into her hair as she melted against him. “Buffy, you are my mate, an’ I don’t care who knows it. Wanna shout it from the bloody rooftops and let the world know you’re my girl.” He placed two fingers under her chin and lifted gently until she was looking at him. “You understand me?” 

Buffy happily nodded her understanding as she reached up to kiss him soundly. “Guess we better make this tea, or mom is gonna wonder what we’ve been doing in here all this time,” she sighed as she relinquished his lips reluctantly. 

***** 

Once again he opened his eyes to darkness, the tang of the tea Ethan had given him bitter on his tongue, his wounds itching almost unbearably. He moaned softly as he shifted position in an attempt to ease the itch, the quiet sound drawing the attention of his ‘host’ from where he had been sitting in the armchair in the corner, quietly watching over his patient’s rest. 

“How are you feeling now?” Ethan’s voice was quiet and level, containing none of the cold fury he had displayed in the basement. 

“Just dandy, thanks.” Giles watched the expressive face cloud over as the man before him attempted to keep the hurt his words and tone had caused from showing. With a deep sigh, Giles relented. “I’m sorry. I just… well, how do you expect me to feel after you kidnapped me, tortured me and then, just to top things off, you forced that vile liquid that you so casually referred to as tea down my throat.  Not to mention I itch all over.” He knew he was pouting, and somehow couldn’t find it within him to care. 

Ethan’s rich, deep laugh rolled around the room. “Well, if it’s itching then the tea is doing its job at least. And do stop sulking, Ripper, it’s not particularly becoming.” 

Ethan sat carefully on the bed, making sure not to jolt it too much and disturb the magic-enhanced healing. “Yes, I’m sorry about that whole kidnapping ordeal. I suppose I just got a little carried away by the moment.” He smirked unrepentantly before his face turned serious. “We need to talk, Rupert.” 

***** 

The front door opened to admit a bouncy redhead and a boy Spike vaguely recognised as being one of the slayer’s friends. 

“We’re in here, guys,” Buffy called out to her friends, rising from where she had been sitting snuggled up to Spike on the couch talking to her mom.  Grasping his hand, she pulled him up with her to await her friends. 

Willow gasped as she came into the room, the scent of her fear permeating the air and tickling satisfyingly at Spike’s nostrils. 

“It’s alright, Will. Spike is on our side now. He won’t bite you.” She turned her eyes to her lover as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Will you, Spike?” 

Spike couldn’t resist the cheeky smirk that stole across his features, only to find himself yelping as the slayer’s gentle squeeze quickly changed to a painful, bone-crushing reprimand. “Ow, you wicked little…” Her raised eyebrow and flashing green eyes stilled his tongue as thoughts of lonely nights spent on the couch entered his mind. “Course I won’t bloody bite anyone; ‘f I was plannin’ on biting you, you’d all be bleedin’ dead by now,” he answered testily.  

When his words did nothing to lessen the little redhead’s heart rate, or to wipe the terrified look from her face, he relented and softened his tone. “Look, I’m not gonna hurt you. Like the slayer said, I’m on your side now, yeah?” He turned his eyes once more on his mate, a gentle, boyish smile softening his face as he looked at her. “Got too much to lose if I did anything that stupid.” 

Xander’s eyes darted from one to the other before settling almost pleadingly on Buffy, willing her to refute that which was clearly evident—that the Slayer had once again become involved with one of the creatures she was chosen to destroy. His eyes closed in resignation; when they opened once more, they were hard and cold. “So this is it? This is the way it is gonna be?  You just keep moving from one dead thing to the next?” His voice dripped with venom as his mind tried unsuccessfully to comprehend just what Buffy saw in these vampires that she didn’t, or wouldn’t, see in him. When she failed to respond, instead inching fractionally closer to the now-glaring vampire, he continued. “Fine. Well, you know what? I didn’t sign up for this. This whole saving the world thing, that’s yours to do, and sure, I was happy to help—you know why? Cause I am your friend, and I care about you, but this,” he waved his hand dismissively at Spike, “this is just sick, and I have had enough of watching you degrading yourself because you have some twisted fascination with dead things.” 

Turning, he strode from the room towards the back door, only to be pulled up short by Buffy’s voice as he stood with one hand resting on the doorknob. 

“Xander, please.  Wait.” She stood in the kitchen doorway looking at him, tears brimming only to be dashed away before they could fall. “Please don’t leave like this. I know you’re angry, but I can explain. And there’s Giles. We so need to be finding Giles. Xan…” Buffy locked hopeful eyes on her friend, certain that he hadn’t meant the hurtful things he had said, that it was just anger and disappointment speaking. She knew that he had a crush on her, and despite her every effort to convince him that she didn’t see him that way, that although she loved him, her affections were strictly friendly, he persisted in his hope that one day she would change her mind. 

“Giles found a prophesy. The only way I can stop Angel from destroying the world is…” Buffy’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “The only way is if I am claimed and pregnant by a Master Vampire. I guess Spike kinda drew the short straw.” 

Xander rounded angrily on her. “Do you love him?”

“No,” Buffy sighed.  She really didn’t need to be getting into this right now.

“Ha!” Xander exclaimed triumphantly; the vampire was as good as gone. “Good... then he…”

“Not yet,” Buffy interrupted.

“Not yet?” His voice rose dramatically as panic began to set in; this just couldn’t be happening. “What do you mean, not yet?”

“I feel something for him,” she confided quietly, hoping that she could make him understand.

“Something like, say, loathing?” he sneered.

“Please… can’t you just…”

“Just what? Accept that you’re involved with yet another vampire?” How could she ask this of him? He was furious that she would even contemplate having anything to do with any other vampire, let alone Spike. And here she was, waving the evidence of just how far beyond contemplating she was right in their faces. He made no effort to disguise his bitterness and disgust as he continued. “You know, in case you’ve forgotten, he is one of the filthy evil creatures you’re supposed to kill. Remember?  Kinda like the one who is trying to kill us all now because you slept with him.” 

tbc

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