Kissed
by itmustbetuesday

 

Buffy gasped loudly and put a hand over her mouth in shock and disgust upon entering Spike’s crypt. It had been three weeks since the battle at the Initiative and Adam’s defeat, and she hadn’t seen nor heard from the vampire since the event. All she knew was that she didn’t have to worry about him killing anyone since he wasn’t successful in removing his chip, and also that his big bad comrade was toast, so worrying about Spike? Not big on her to-do list. But you never know with him.

She’d imagined killing him thousands of times. It wasn’t something she’d daydream about… well, sometimes, but whenever the Chipped Wonder was mentioned she’d feel her throat tighten in loathing and she’d picture herself cutting of his head or ramming a stake the size of a railroad tie through his heart. Yeah, that was the stuff.

But this, Buffy realized in horror, this was too much. This was something not even Spike deserved. She steadied herself by backing up against the crypt door and leaning on it for support, all the while unable to tear her eyes away from the horrific scene before her.

Spike was lying on the ground, and if she didn’t know any better she would have thought he was dead. Well, he was, technically. But his face...

Buffy resisted the urge to vomit just barely as she approached the fallen vampire, her hand still covering her mouth and her eyes wide and filled with horror.

He was lying on his back, his eyes bulging and his rigid, yellow tinged fingers frozen over his face like he’d been clawing at something attacking him. Spike looked like a corpse. His skin was taut and yellow and his lips were pulled away from his teeth. She’d seen many things during her days as the Slayer. Demon entrails, human entrails, children lying dead on the playground…

But this was too much.

Buffy fell to her hands and knees and retched, unable to keep it in. It didn’t matter that he was already dead. It didn’t matter that she hated him more than anything she could think of. It didn’t matter that she wanted him dead in a permanent way. This was just wrong.

Buffy sat back on her heels and focused her eyes on Spike’s face. It still looked like him, but even in his demonic face he’d never appeared so grotesque.

“Oh my god,” she muttered in horror, backing away from his body like a fallen crab.

It was only then that she saw him move.

 

* * * *

Giles sat at his desk and blew softly on the surface of his warm cup of tea. It was a warm June afternoon and it occurred to him how odd it was that he wanted tea on such a hot day. He was English, however, and it was time for his afternoon tea.

Giles frowned slightly, yet at the same time he was secretly amused, as he remembered Buffy and Willow sitting in the high school library one afternoon discussing how all of his British traits were somehow linked to his genes. They shared several giggles at his expense, especially when Buffy argued that “tweed” was the secret ingredient to making British people. American girls can be so nonsensical at times.

“Giles!”

He sat up in alarm and closed the book that was resting in his lap when he heard the door to his apartment slam into the wall. Buffy stood in the doorway, her chest heaving madly as if she’d run across the entire state of California.

“Buffy,” Giles said with concern as he rose to his feet. “What’s wrong? You look ill.”

Buffy swallowed hard before attempting words. “Something horrible...” she managed to say before averting her eyes.

His eyes widened. “What’s happened? W-Willow, Xander? Your mother isn’t hurt, is she?”

Buffy seemed to calm instantly, although it wasn’t a relaxed sort of calm. Her breathing slowed and her eyes narrowed in confusion as she looked up at him. “It’s Spike.”

“Spike? What has he done?”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know what’s happened, but his face… Giles, he looked dead. Really dead.”

Now he was really perplexed. Spike was hurt and she was this upset? She was shaking, and her face glistened with sweat like she’d recently been sick. He thought her reaction would be more towards the other end of the spectrum. Pleased… relieved. “What do you mean?” he asked, gauging her responses carefully.

“He looked shriveled, like bodies get when they decompose? But it still looked like him, a-and he moved. We can’t leave him like that,” she said seriously. “And besides,” she added quickly, “it might come after humans. Whatever got him, I mean.”

Giles nodded. “What do you want to do?”

Buffy frowned, unable to believe that the words that were about to come out of her mouth were actually about to come out of her mouth. “We help him, if we even can.”

 
* * * *

“Did Giles say why we were meeting in the cemetery?” Anya asked as she and Xander walked along the sidewalk. “We’re not doing a spell or anything, are we?”

“What? No. I’m guessing it has something to do with Spike. Which really shouldn’t be a guess, since Giles said ‘meet us at Spike’s’.”

Anya stuck her hands in the pockets of her long dress. “I hope it doesn’t take long. There’s a movie on TV that I wanted to watch, and if I have to miss it because of an apocalypse I’m going to be very upset.”

Xander smiled. “I’m hoping it’s more along the lines of ‘hey, look at this nifty pile of Spike dust.’”

Anya shrugged beside him. “I don’t see the big deal about Spike. Vampires aren’t the most loathsome of creatures. Besides, he’s not hurting anyone, and it wouldn’t be fair to just kill him since he can’t defend himself.”

“Yeah, but he’s evil.”

“That’s not his fault,” said Anya. “He didn’t ask to become a vampire.”

“How do you know that? How are we so sure that he didn’t prance up to Angelus and say ‘hey! I wanna be dead like you!’ More than that, how do you know he wasn’t some psyched out serial killer when he was human? Ever think of that?”

“Angelus?” she replied, ignoring his last comment. “You mean Angel? I thought Drusilla was his sire.”

They rounded the corner where they arrived at the edge of the cemetery. Xander and Anya walked through the gate.

“But Spike called Angel his sire when he tried to bite me. He called him Yoda.”

“Please. Yoda wasn’t a vampire, he was a bad representation of a Grothnar demon. Look, it’s Willow,” she pointed out. “And she’s carrying a sack.”

Willow was walking ten feet ahead of them carrying a large paper bag. She stopped and turned when she heard them approaching, her eyes wide and serious. “Hey guys.”

“Where’s Tara?” Xander asked. “I thought her summer class was on Tuesdays.”

“It is Tuesday, Xander,” Anya quickly informed him.

“Oh. Well, what’s up? Where’s the gang? What are we up to tonight?”

Willow placed the bag on top of a large headstone and sighed. “Tara’s inside with Buffy and Giles trying to figure out a spell or something we could use to find out what’s wrong with Spike. I just got back from the butcher’s.”

“What? We’re helping Spike? Isn’t the butcher closed? Tara’s skipping class?”

Anya stared at her babbling boyfriend. “Honey, relax. Your head’s getting veiny.”

“Tara’s class is on Wednesday,” Willow pointed out quickly, realizing that wasn’t the most important question to answer so she might as well get it out of the way. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. I don’t know if you guys should…” She swallowed. “It’s really bad.”

Xander grew alarmed at her words. “What’s bad? What’s Spike done?”

Willow shook her head. “We don’t know. He’s just… he looks really bad. I guess you guys should see. I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?”

Xander and Anya exchanged confused looks before following Willow into the crypt.

“Oh my god,” Xander muttered upon seeing Spike’s body. Giles was crouched beside him, examining his face while Tara stood at the vampire’s feet with her arms wrapped around a spellbook whose pages she was thoroughly reading. Buffy was leaning against the stone sarcophagus with her arms across her chest. Everyone looked unnerved, and with apparent reason.

“Oh good god,” Anya exclaimed. “That’s disgusting.”

“What did this?” asked Xander.

Giles turned towards the younger man. “I don’t know. He’s in no condition to speak, o-or anything, for that matter.”

“It almost looks like a Leech got a hold of him,” Anya commented.

“A leech? You mean those little worm parasite thingies?” Tara asked, looking suddenly afraid. There must be a story behind that.

“No, it’s a demon,” Anya informed her. “It feeds off the life force of certain demons, specifically those who’re immortal. Don’t know what one’s doing in Sunnydale.”

“So it fed off him?” Buffy asked, looking down at Spike’s face and quickly turning away when her eyes set on him. “Can’t say he didn’t have it coming.”

Giles examined the vampire’s neck. “There aren’t any bite marks…” he noted with perplexity.

“Oh, it doesn’t bite you,” Anya told him. “It kisses you. It’s kind of like a succubus. I still don’t know why they call it a Leech.”

Giles leaned forward and looked at Spike’s mouth. Buffy knew now why his lips were stretched back. They were forced that way.

“Well,” she said. “That must’ve been a hell of a kiss.”

“If it’s Leech, then why haven’t we seen this before?” asked Willow. “Sunnydale’s crawling with vampires. Plus it’s all hellmouthy and bad. You’d think a Leech would love it here.”

Everyone turned to Anya, expecting some type of explanation. “Well, they’re really rare. There was a worldwide Leech massacre in the sixties.” Giles looked at her skeptically, obviously thinking that he would’ve heard of this if it happened in his time. “Oh, the seventeen sixties,” she clarified.

“This is all very interesting,” said Buffy impatiently, walking towards the group. “But why isn’t Spike dead if this Leech thing sucked out his immortality?”

“I don’t know,” she replied defensively, frowning at everyone. “I’m no Leech expert.”

“They don’t harm humans, do they?” asked Buffy.

“Well, I don’t remember too many humans complaining about them. Humans aren’t immortal. Well, except for Dick Clark.”

Buffy looked down at the vampire on the floor, inhaling sharply when his head turned and his eyes focused on her. She tore her eyes away. “Will, did you get to the butcher’s in time?”

Willow held up the bag. “Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s see if we can reverse this.”

Xander stepped forward, his nausea over seeing Spike’s body slightly diminished. “Hold on a sec. Why are we helping Spike? Don’t we hate him? Wouldn’t we rather see him dead?”

“But he’s not dead,” Giles pointed out. “I agree with Buffy. It’s wrong to leave him like this. He’s helped us out before—”

“For money! And then he tried to kill us!”

“W-We can’t just leave him like this,” said Tara. “It’s not right.”

“How do you know there’s any way we can fix him?” asked Anya. “I can’t remember a demon ever recovering.”

“We’ll find a way. Let’s just do it and fast,” said Buffy, walking over towards Willow. “Tara, keep looking in that book. There’s got to be some spell or something we can do to reverse this. Will,” she said quietly, turning to her friend. “Help me…” she wrinkled her nose in disgust as she took a bag of blood from the sack. “Help me feed him?”

Willow winced before nodding. “OK.”

“What are we supposed to do, Buff?” Xander asked.

Buffy stared at her friend. “Research. Find out what you can about these Leeches. See if we can’t find this thing. I don’t want to be finding more dried out vamp bodies…” she trailed off uneasily, feeling queasy in the stomach again. It wouldn’t have bothered her so much if she didn’t know Spike.

“Come now, we can begin research at my flat.” Giles took one more glance at the vampire lying on the floor before ushering Xander and Anya out of the crypt. “Contact us if you need anything.”

Buffy nodded. After the door closed behind them, she and Willow moved to the floor on either side of Spike near his head. Buffy sighed and opened one the bags and positioned it over his mouth. “Drink,” she instructed, unsure of whether or not Spike could hear her. She didn’t have to wait long before he began gulping on the bag.

“Buffy? Why… why don’t you just kill him?” Willow asked curiously.

Buffy raised her eyes to meet hers. “Do you think that I should?”

Willow shook her head. “No. It’s just… I know you hate him. I thought that you’d... I don’t know.”

Buffy shrugged slightly as she watched the vampire finish off the last of the bag. “Me neither.”

 
* * * *

“I can’t believe you haven’t heard of these Leech demons, Giles. What do they teach you at that Watcher’s Academy?”

Giles frowned as he handed Xander a book. “Well, I’m not a thousand-year-old ex-demon. Then again, since they do tend to prey on vampires you’d think we would’ve heard about them.”

“Well,” said Anya. “The more we know about the little bloodsuckers the better we’ll be able to fix Spike.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Also a bloodsucker.”

“They suck blood?” said Giles. “I thought you said they fed on a demon’s immortality?”

“They do. But for a vampire, blood is the source of their immortality, as it is for most demons.”

Xander frowned once again. “They don’t teach you these things at the Watcher’s Academy? What, is it all ‘Glasses Cleaning 101’ and ‘A Brief History of Tweed’?”

 
* * * *

Spike had finished off half the bag before he passed out again, so Willow and Buffy sat to the side and watched. But keeping vigil on a dead person? Doesn’t involve much. Can’t check their vitals (because they don’t have any), and it wasn’t like they were worried about him dying, so basically they sat and thought about what they were going to do. Or, in Buffy’s case, think about why they were doing it in the first place.

It was somewhat ridiculous, wasn’t it? Here she was wasting a perfectly good summer evening that she could be making better use of doing anything else. Sure, Riley was in Iowa visiting his family, so the boyfriend option was a bust, but, she still had her friends, all of whom she’d dragged away from whatever they were doing to help someone she wished were dead. So here they were…

What if Spike had found her like that? Lying as if dead on the ground with no apparent reason? No matter what he’s seen in all his unlife he’d probably not vomit at the sight of her, and God knows he wouldn’t help her. He’d probably give her a good kick and be off, or, maybe not, since that would hurt him. But, he was an idiot, so he’d forget momentarily and cause himself tremendous amounts of cranial pain. Buffy smiled at the image before being called away from it by a low moan.

Buffy looked over at Willow and Tara for affirmation that they’d heard the same sound before walking over to where Spike was lying on the ground. If she cared she might’ve moved him on top of the sarcophagus he used as a bed, but as it was, she was doing far more for him than she should. Buffy knelt beside him.

“Spike? Can you hear me?”

“Slayer?” he wheezed. His eyes were no longer as bulged and focused as they were when she first came across him. They were quite the opposite, in fact – unfocused and barely open enough to see through. “What… did you do to me?”

“It wasn’t me,” she pointed out with annoyance. Here she was helping the idiot and he accused her? Her logical mind told her that he was out of it, but when it came to Spike, she didn’t really think logically. Apparently not, otherwise he’d be dust in the wind by now. “Anya thinks it was a Leech. Do you know what that is? Can you remember anything?”

“No,” he muttered, his head rolling stiffly to the side, away from her. “What’re you doing here?”

Buffy almost didn’t understand him, not only because he wasn’t facing her, but Spike found it difficult to speak with his lips in the condition they were. That must hurt, she realized with some satisfaction.

“Tying to find out how to fix you,” she replied.

A brief silence followed. “What?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed. “We’re trying to… help you.”

Oh, God, she said it.

“What for?” he asked.

“Hey, we can leave you like this. It’s no skin off my back.”

“Isn’t it ‘nose?’” Tara whispered to Willow, who just shrugged.

“Did you see the big black thing that was in here?” he asked, as if they’d been having a completely different conversation.

“Huh?”

Willow spoke up. “I think he’s remembering what attacked him.”

“Oh, right. Big black thing, huh? Might’ve seen it. Wanna describe it to me?”

“Big. Black.”

The urge to smack him in the face was difficult to resist. She wondered why she even bothered resisting. Oh right, that nagging feeling of sympathy that she couldn’t shake off.

“Do you remember being attacked?” she asked impatiently. “Did it… kiss you?”

Spike rolled over, his eyes completely closed, and grinned at her best he could. “Thought you might ask that sooner or later,” he replied, apparently misunderstanding her question. “Don’t think I’ll remember it after, but… ow!”

The urge to hit became a bit too irresistible.

 
* * * *

“Uh-oh,” muttered Xander, pulling the thick tome closer to him. “I think this Leech thing might be a bit more dangerous than we thought.”

“Did you find something?” asked Giles, marking his place in his own volume before shutting it and leaning forward curiously.

“Yeah. It’s… ew, it’s got pictures. That’s definitely not something you’d want to make out with.”

Anya leaned over his shoulder to look at the illustration. “It is a bit slimy, isn’t it? Never seen one up close.”

“Let’s hope not,” Xander replied. “Their favorite snack appears to be heads, especially human ones.” He frowned disappointedly and looked up. “Too bad he didn’t bite Spike’s head off.”

“It eats heads? I don’t remember that little detail,” Anya added, rubbing her neck absentmindedly. “So, you’re saying this thing sucked on Spike and is out now ripping heads off?”

“It gets worse,” muttered Giles, peering at the small text over Xander’s shoulder. “It’s almost impossible to kill. It says here that it can only be destroyed by one of its victims, who usually don’t survive.”

Anya and Xander stared at him. “You mean Spike has to kill this thing?” asked Anya.

“Um,” Xander began eloquently. “How the hell is that going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Giles muttered, turning the page and finding nothing more to help them with their dilemma. “But now it’s imperative that we help him.”

“OK, but how do we heal him? He got his vamp power sucked out of him. Plus he’s all yellow and gross.”

“As Anya said earlier, blood is the source of his immorality. We’ll have to give him blood.”

Xander sighed with relief. “Will and Buffy are working on that now.”

Anya shifted doubtfully. “Yeah, but… pig’s blood? Do you really think that’s going to work?”

Giles frowned. “Let’s hope it does,” he said as he grabbed his keys. Xander and Anya stood and followed him to the door. “Otherwise there’s only one alternative I can think of.”

 

* * * *

“Do you hear that?” Tara asked nervously.

Buffy inclined her head. There was a soft grunting noise coming from somewhere outside the crypt, and it was soon followed by a pain-stricken shriek of terror, a shriek that ended fairly quickly. Buffy looked at Tara and Willow, silently telling them to stay put before she jumped over Spike’s body and through the crypt door.

Her eyes widened when she saw the man’s body fall to the ground with a sickening thud. He had obviously been a businessman on his way home from work, because he was still wearing his suit and carrying his briefcase. Buffy watched in horror as the large, slimy black creature looming over the body lifted the businessman’s severed head to its mouth with its and tilted its own head back. The gaping maw, surrounded by small, sharp teeth and hooks most likely used for sucking, opened even wider and devoured the head whole.

After a sickening crunch and a loud gulp the beast turned to Buffy, and for the first time since watching it devour the man’s head she realized it was humanoid. Well, it had a head and four very bloated limbs sticking out of the usual places. But its mouth took up most of its face and its wide eyes looked like they were going to fall off of it.

Its face contorted slightly, as if expressing some sort of emotion that she couldn’t recognize due to its inhuman features, before it extended its long, tube-like fingers towards her. Her first inclination was to run, as it always was, but in her head she knew she had to fight it off. Based on the fact that this thing was big and black it was most likely the Leech or whatever that had attacked Spike. If she killed it now this mess would be over and done with.

Buffy jumped off the front steps of the crypt as the creature advanced and kicked it squarely in the chest… if you could call that a chest. It toppled over but recovered quickly, despite its clumsiness. It charged at her again and she was once again forced to note its swiftness when it knocked her in the head with one of its slimy appendages. Her body twisted in response and she fell to her hands and knees. Buffy touched her face where the Leech had struck her and when she pulled her hand away it was covered in a sticky black slime.

“Eww, gross,” she moaned, looking up at the demon and being further disgusted when the nearest part of it presented itself to her. Not all demons wore loincloths, and this one was apparently a he.

Buffy sent a kick to its legs and it fell to its back again, jumping up just as quickly. It didn’t attempt another attack, however. Instead it stood there, heaving as if breathing heavily and then jumped back, looking startled. Buffy watched in bewilderment as the hideous creature retreated, and it wasn’t until it was out of sight and she turned towards the entrance to the crypt that she knew why. Willow stood on the steps, hands clenched in fists at her sides, a look of intense concentration slipping from her features.

“Did it work?” she asked, looking around as if just awaking from a trance.

“Did you mean to scare it away?” Buffy asked.

Willow shrugged. “That or make its head explode. I’m kinda glad the second one didn’t happen.” Her eyes fell to the headless body lying on the ground. “Oh, god.”

“Yeah,” said Buffy sadly, stepping away from the body and towards her friend. “It looks like this thing’s a bit more dangerous that we thought.” She wiped at her face where there was still slime. “And sticky.”

“What do we do?” Willow asked, her eyes still on the man’s body. “Do we just leave him here? Should we move him, o-or…”

Buffy frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think anybody’s going to be wandering through the cemetery at night, unless they’re me. The thing obviously dragged the man away from the street.”

“Poor guy,” Willow lamented. “It’s kind of weird to leave him here, though.”

Buffy sighed. “Well, we could move him behind the crypt? I’m sure Xander and Giles—”

“Holy…!”

Buffy looked up to see Xander jumping back in horror as he neared the decapitated body. Giles and Anya stopped behind him.

“Leech?” Giles asked, watching Buffy. She nodded. “Did it hurt you? Is it still here?”

“No, it’s gone. And we’re fine,” she assured him. “You guys are back early. Did you find something?”

“Well, it likes human heads. That’s a big detail, but you apparently know that already,” Anya replied, folding her arms across her chest and frowning at the body.

“Willow and I were thinking of moving him… or it, whatever,” she said, feeling guilty that she wasn’t more horrified or stricken by the man’s demise. She’s seen a lot of people die, though, and she couldn’t feel tremendous grief over every single death. Besides, she had to keep her head. “Someone’s going to find it at some point.”

“Well, if you must move it, move it away from Spike’s crypt. If we’re still here we don’t want the police after our heads.” Giles frowned. “Poor choice of words.”

 
* * * *

Buffy and Willow entered the crypt after moving the body to the other edge of the cemetery to find it filled with living beings. The one creature inside that didn’t fall into that category was now lying on the sarcophagus/bed with a pillow under his head. Tara must’ve helped him, because Buffy doubted the others would’ve been so kind.

“OK,” said Buffy loudly, calling everyone’s attention to herself. “Body’s moved. Did you find out how we kill this thing?” she asked Giles.

“According to the text it can’t be killed—it’s invincible.”

Buffy’s shoulders sagged. “Great.”

“Well no, it can be killed,” he added, realizing that he’d led her astray. “But only by one of its victims. Most likely because it’s in some ways a parasite, or due to some odd magics that even I don’t understand…”

“So it can be killed, but…” Buffy looked over at the weakened vampire. “Only Spike can kill it?”

“’Fraid so,” Xander replied. “Unless the headless guy feels up to the challenge.”

“Nope, Spike’s our only shot, and he’s been dejuiced.” Anya watched as the vampire’s head tilted to the side on his pillow. “And it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting better anytime soon. He’s going to have to eat somebody.”

“Huh?” Willow replied.

“Well, he’ll need to be able to fight this thing somehow. And since he can barely move I’m thinking human blood’s the fastest way to cure him, which we’re interested in because the Leech is off eating heads right now and might soon come after us.”

“But… Spike can’t hurt humans,” Willow pointed out. “How are we going to get him fresh human blood if he can’t bite anybody? And, hello, letting Spike eat someone? Not a good idea. Bad idea, in fact.”

“He wouldn’t have to eat them,” Anya responded. “He’d just need to drink their blood. Vampire’s don’t have to kill their victims, you know. They just do because they’re kind of violent.”

“Right,” said Buffy. “But we’re not letting Spike hurt anybody. The Initiative even saw to that with the chip. So it’s not an option.”

Giles removed his glasses and sighed. “I’m afraid it’s our only option. Time is of the essence with this creature and if we don’t act soon there’s no telling the sort of bedlam it could produce. Spike’s going to have to drink from one of us.”

All eyes started darting around the room. “But… that’s just…” Tara began. “It’s too dangerous. He could kill whoever he drinks from, even if he didn’t mean to.”

“Of course he’d mean to,” Xander replied. “Spike hates all of us. He’d delight in the chance to kill any one of us if he could.”

“But,” Buffy began weakly, realizing the plausible outcome of this situation. “He can’t, can he? The chip…”

“It’s not impossible for him to hurt anyone, Buffy,” Giles replied. “It’s only painful. We can get him to do it.”

“What if he drinks from each of us? What if we each just give him a little bit?” Willow asked.

“I don’t think he would bite us all, not matter how much we force him to. The pain would be too great.”

“Are you sure this is the only way?” Buffy asked.

“It’s the only way I see,” Giles replied. “I’m afraid we don’t have much time to find another way to fix this, so—”

“I’ll do it.”

Giles’ eyes widened and Xander protested loudly.

“Buffy, no! We’re not seriously going to do this? I mean, do you,” he narrowed his eyes. “You don’t like getting bit by vampires, do you?”

She frowned. “No,” she replied sourly. “But if we’re going to do this, I’m not going to let him hurt any of you. Besides, I’m the Slayer. My blood might restore him quicker.”

“Yeah, but what if it doesn’t? Or even if it does, what if Spike can’t kill this thing and you’re in the hospital due to the loss of blood? You’re the strongest, Buff. You’re the only one with a hope of stopping this thing if this doesn’t work.”

“Then let’s hope it works. And let’s hope Spike kills it. Because if he doesn’t? Then I’ll make sure he’s dead in a dusty way.” She glared at the vampire lying on the sarcophagus, and despite his weakened state she suddenly felt nervous. Suddenly the little needles at the blood bank didn’t look so threatening. “OK,” she continued in a smaller voice. “I want you guys to stand around. Make sure he doesn’t go too far if I’m too weak to fight him off.”

Willow and Tara nodded in agreement. Anya stood awkwardly by one of the stone pillars and Xander and Giles both looked frightened.

Buffy watched for all of their reactions before slowly making her way to Spike. “Spike,” she said loudly.

“No need to shout, Slayer. Vampire.” He turned his head so that he was facing her. “I can’t do it.”

“You have to. You’re the only one who can kill this thing,” she replied, her voice not as strong as it was before the prospect of a vampire latching himself to her throat was presented. Spike didn’t respond, he merely blinked at her as if he were slowly falling asleep. Buffy rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him so that he sat on the edge of the sarcophagus. “Spike, just do it.” She pulled her hair away from the side of her neck where Angel and the Master had bitten her. Buffy didn’t like the idea of having bite marks on both sides of her neck.

Spike stared at her exposed flesh, hunger shining in his yellow-tinged eyes. “But…”

Buffy winced, almost unable to stomach the fact that she was forcing a vampire on herself. She grabbed him by the back of the hair and pulled him to her. “Do it.”

Spike looked past Buffy to where Xander and Giles stood. They both watched uneasily, waiting for it to be over while at the same time hoping it wouldn’t happen.

“Spike!” Buffy demanded, and slowly his demon guise distorted his features. His elongated fangs sank into her neck and they both cried out in pain.

Xander moved forward, but Giles held him back. “Wait – it’s already done. We’ve got to…” his grip on Xander’s forearm tightened as he felt rage boiling inside of him at the sight of a vampire drinking from his Slayer. “Just wait.”

Spike moaned loudly into her neck as the pain overwhelmed him, but Buffy held onto the back of his head so that he couldn’t pull away. His moaning died down slightly as he began to drink, and soon it was gone completely. Spike slid off the edge of sarcophagus and stood as he slowly drank her, his hands moving to grip her shoulders and still her as she instinctively started backing away. Another moan passed his lips in response to her weak cry of pain. Buffy was glad this was hurting him as much as it was her.

“Buffy?” Willow called, watching as her friend’s eyelids started to droop.

Spike pulled Buffy’s body closer to him as he continued to drink. It had almost been a year since he’s tasted fresh human blood, and it had been over a hundred since he’d tasted the blood of a Slayer. All he could think of was how good it felt to have a warm body pressed against his as he drank the life from a helpless victim. The thrill of it sent the blood he was drinking straight to his groin.

But in an instant he realized that this was no a helpless victim. Any thrill he’d felt at this potential Slayer slaying died away when he remembered that she’d practically forced him to drink her, and that she wasn’t stopping him because she wanted him to do this. She wanted him to do it so he could stop a demon from killing them all.

He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes, feeling the strength returning to his muscles as it faded from hers. Buffy’s eyes slowly closed and her head drooped forward, her pale lips parting as a small gasp escaped them. She was passing out.

This is wrong, Spike thought, panicking slightly. He didn’t want this. This weak defeat of the Slayer wasn’t right, she deserved more. He realized with horror as she fell forward against his chest that he didn’t want her to die.

“Buffy!” Xander exclaimed, running towards her and pulling her roughly away from Spike. “Oh god, why did we do this? Buffy!”

Spike stepped back, his eyes raised to the people surrounding him. He’d nearly killed her and they’d all seen it. Spike watched as everyone crowded around the Slayer, checking to see if she was alright. He wanted to know himself, but he was slightly distracted by the residual bits of migraine caused from harming her and the first place. Plus he was suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of what had happened prior to waking up on the floor with the Slayer staring down at him, and the confusion in response to said memory only made the migraine worse.

Buffy had come to his crypt, all silent and big-eyed and stake-free. He’d stood and faced her, prepared for the confrontation that would inevitably ensue, but instead of quipping or bitching at him she’d placed her small, delicate hands on his chest. It was only then that he thought of them in a nonviolent manner, what with them usually clenched in fists and flying at his face and all. Spike’s brow had furrowed, and he’d murmured something incoherent as her hands moved slowly up his chest and then around his neck, her face becoming dangerously close to his. It was only when he realized that her warm breath wasn’t hitting his face due to the lack of breathing that she started to change. She wasn’t the Slayer, she was something large and black and strong. Those were the only thoughts he had before it’d covered his mouth with the hole that served as its own and his world had gone black.

“Kill it, Spike.”

Spike blinked as he was called out of his thoughts by the witch’s low voice.

Willow glared at him when he didn’t respond. “Go now.”

He took one look at the Slayer’s pale face and slack features before running out the crypt door. He was going to find this thing and kill it for what it did to him, for what it made him do. Then he was going to figure out what the hell was wrong with him.



* * * *


She blinked slowly before opening her eyes, wishing she’d never woken up once the pain registered. Buffy groaned and reached to the right side of her neck, her fingers brushing over the thick bandage there. She sat up in bed when she remembered how she’d received the wound, only to fall back down as a rush of dizziness overwhelmed her.

“Buffy,” Xander greeted her as he entered the room. It was just then that Buffy realized she was in the hospital. “You’re awake, thank God.”

“What’s happened?” she asked urgently. “The Leech, has it killed anyone else? What about Spike?”

Xander shook his head. “I don’t know. Willow and Tara set up a tracking spell for Spike when you were still out; they’re following him right now. Will wants to make sure he kills this thing, especially after we let him…” He trailed off, unable to say the words. His eyes fell to the bandage on her neck.

“They’re going alone? What if this Leech finds them? It could kill them before Spike gets a chance to do anything.”

Buffy was straining to sit up again, but this time Xander held her down.

“Relax, Buff. They’ve got magic on their side. And, while I don’t doubt that Spike would skip town rather than help us out, he’s got his own reasons for killing this thing. Plus, we know how much he likes violence.”

Buffy sighed in frustration. She didn’t want to be lying in bed, but she still felt too weak for strenuous physical exertion, which is what she planned for after leaving the hospital. Soon the Slayer healing would kick in or finish its business or whatever, and Buffy would be out there, doing whatever she could.

She looked up when she felt Xander’s fingers lightly brushing the bandage on her neck. “We didn’t have to do this, you know.”

Buffy pulled his hand away. “It was the only way.”

“Oh really? You didn’t have to be the only one, you know. We all could’ve given him blood without having to resort to Slayer Bitefest 2000.”

“Do you really think he would’ve healed that fast if it wasn’t my blood, the blood of a Slayer? It wasn’t just blood he needed, it was power. I was the only one who had that.”

“Right,” Xander conceded. “You know there’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me okay with all of this, right?”

“I’m not exactly okay with it myself,” she replied, staring at the bracelet on her wrist. “I’m supposed to slay the vampires, not feed them. But I’m also supposed to protect people from creatures like this Leech thing, and Spike’s the only one who can kill it.”

“So, you feel that by giving him your blood you’ve indirectly killed the demon?”

“I don’t like sitting back and doing nothing. Besides, I wasn’t about to let one of you get hurt.”

Xander sank into the chair beside her bed, all the while watching her with suspicion in his eyes. Buffy knew that he was right; that allowing Spike to feed from her wasn’t the only the only way to restore him. Now that she thought of it, Spike probably could’ve snacked on that headless guy without even having to worry about his chip going off.

But she had been so sure in that moment, when they were all at a loss for answers, that she had to save them. She was the Slayer, it was her job. And part of her wanted to save Spike as well, even though she didn’t know what that meant. Maybe she was just used to having him around, or maybe he now qualified as the helpless she was supposed to protect, but the need to help him was real.

She just hoped that Spike killed this thing before it hurt anyone else, or she’d stake him without blinking an eye.


* * * *


He smelled it before he saw it. Spike could sense its age, far older than he was, and he could also smell its power. It didn’t really belong to it, he realized, remembering how it had had almost sucked the immortality out of him. The Leech had stolen all of its life-force from other creatures. While Spike could understand taking a life in order to survive… taking another’s power? That was wrong, even in the demon book of morals.

But apparently this thing was older than morals, and uglier, too. Big, black and slimy. Spike found it in one of the other cemeteries, crouched over someone’s grave and digging into the earth above it. Not only did it suck blood and bite off heads, but it robbed graves, too. This thing really was a nasty. If Spike wasn’t so angry for the way the thing had almost raped him of his unlife, he would’ve been somewhat impressed.

He had to admit, he was somewhat intimidated by the creature. It was much older and much more complex than he was, or maybe less so. Depended on how you looked at it. Spike reckoned the Leech hadn’t done its digging back in the other cemetery due to the challenge Buffy had presented when she’d fought against it.

So, Spike was to kill this thing. He didn’t have a weapon, but the need for his hasty departure from the crypt had prevented him from grabbing one. Spike had a feeling that if he hadn’t left as soon as he did that Harris would’ve done him in for sure. He couldn’t have that. Dying at the hands of the Slayer? There’s honor in that. Hell, he’d rather have died when the Leech attacked him. But allow a wanker like Xander Harris to take him down? Not a sodding way in hell.

So there he stood, obscured by the bushes, watching the thing that had attacked him earlier digging a hole in the ground. What was it going to do with a body, anyway? Eat its flesh off? Maybe they should call it a Maggot. All capitalized and whatnot, like that made it any more impressive.

“Oi, you there!” he called, sauntering towards the beast from behind the bushes.

Better get this over and done with.

The creature looked up at him quizzically. Spike knew that it probably didn’t understand English, but it should recognize an adversary when it saw one. Leech should also be thrown by the fact that it thought Spike had been defeated, and here he came a-sauntering in, all smirks and swagger. Well, his swagger was a bit off, due to the fact that he was still somewhat weak, not just from the Leech’s earlier attack, but the residual pain from when his chip had fired. Spike reckoned he’d have a headache for the next week, at least.

“Yeah, you ugly brute. Thought you did me in, didn’t you? Oh, and not to hurt your feelings, but I’ve had better snogs from a leprechaun with herpes.”

Spike smirked as the demon growled at him.

“Ah, seems I have hurt your feelings. Don’t particularly fancy touching you, as I’ve got issues with slime. Guess it’s unavoidable, since I’ve got to kill you, and you’re all covered with it.” Spike shucked off his coat and draped it over a nearby tombstone. “Don’t want to ruin the leather.”

And then he started swinging.


* * * *


“Are you sure it can’t see us?” Tara asked nervously as she watched Spike approach the Leech.

“Well,” said Willow, turning in her spot to look at her girlfriend. “Unless it stole Superman’s X-ray vision I think it’s safe to say it won’t see us hiding behind the crypt. Unless it comes over here, that is, and then we run.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got to make sure Spike kills this thing. O-Otherwise…”

“Otherwise we kill him,” Willow said coldly, turning back to watch as Spike threw the first punch. “I still can’t believe we all just stood and watched while he drank her.”

“Buffy made him, though. It wasn’t like he attacked her.”

Willow sighed. She’d always been a big defender of Spike, even though he’d tried to kill her more than once. She couldn’t help it; he was an underdog. Willow had a soft spot for the underdogs.

Spike seemed to be coming out on top during his fight with the Leech, however. Willow and Tara watched in silence, both transfixed by the vampire’s movements. He was almost as enjoyable to watch as Buffy was, but it was kind of weird to see him kicking and punching without the swirl of black leather at his heels.

“Wow, it looks like this might be easier than we thought,” Tara commented. “He’s got this thing on its knees.”


* * * *


Spike grinned down at the fallen demon, ready to snap its neck. His hands and his boots were covered in slime, but Spike didn’t care. The thrill of the fight seemed to rejuvenate him almost as much as the Slayer’s blood.

“All right, you nasty git,” he snarled, standing over the beast and gripping its head tightly. “It’s time I send you…”

Spike not-so-clever pun died on his lips as the black slime melted into soft and golden hair. He blinked and stared at the frightened hazel eyes turned in his direction.

Damn it, he’d forgotten about the shape-shifting. Spike now held what appeared to be the Slayer’s head in his hands, his fingers curled into her soft hair as she sat on the ground, her tiny legs curled beneath her. Tears welled in her eyes and her lip trembled, and Spike felt something tighten in his chest. He had her. He finally had the Slayer in his grasp…

No, but this wasn’t her. Even so, Spike experienced a small thrill at the thought of having her in such a compromising position. Greater, though, was the sudden urge to remove his hands from her and back away.

Damn it, what the hell was wrong with him? Master vampires did not have soft spots for Slayers. Especially not the ones of the whiny blonde variety.

“Oh, you think that’s gonna save you, do you?” Spike asked through gritted teeth, tightening his hold on her hair to show how much the sight of the Slayer’s vulnerability did not affect him.

It let out a whimper that sounded so much like Buffy that Spike froze. Frowning against his instincts, he bent lower and roughly pulled the creature’s head towards his, looking it in the eye.

“You may’ve gotten to me before with this little costume of yours, but I’ve dreamt of doing this for the past three years.”

Spike caught a glimpse of black in Buffy’s eyes before he snapped the creature’s neck and her body crumpled to the ground. He waited for it to revert to its natural form, but it never did. Instead he was left standing over what appeared to be the Slayer’s corpse. Despite rationality, Spike started to panic.

Its eyes were still open, and they still looked like hers, except they were staring lifelessly at his slimy boots. Golden hair draped across its twisted neck, and small, deceptively fragile looking hands were curled at its sides.

Spike stepped away from it. He didn’t know why the sight of Buffy’s dead body disturbed him so much. She was a right bitch, and he hated her entire existence. Wished her dead for years. And now, in some way, he’d gotten his wish.

“Oh my god, Buffy!”

Willow ran towards the fallen form of her friend with tears burning in the corners of her eyes. She knew it wasn’t really Buffy, but seeing Spike twist her neck and watching her crumple lifelessly to the ground? God, she was going to be sick…

Willow met Spike’s eyes, almost shocked by what he had done. That could’ve been Buffy. If she had been here, and he didn’t have that chip, Willow could’ve just seen her friend die.

In a way, she did.

“Didn’t…” Spike began, his mouth unusually dry. “Didn’t know you two were watching.”

Willow turned at looked at Tara, who had run up behind her. She wanted to say something to Spike, to be angry at him for what he’d done, but he didn’t do anything wrong. He did exactly what they’d asked him to do. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he looked sort of guilty. But Spike couldn’t be, could he? Only vampire’s like Angel could feel guilt, because of the soul. Right?

“I suppose you were here to make sure I got the job done,” he said with sudden smugness. “Well, as you can see,” he said, looking down at the body. His smug expression died away and his voice got softer. “I did.”

Willow only nodded. Spike did the same to her and turned to retrieve his coat.

“What are we going to do with it?” Tara asked, looking down at the demon which was still wearing Buffy’s face. “I don’t think it’s gonna go poof.”

“Spike,” Willow called, stopping the vampire just as he’d finished sliding back into his leather coat. “We need to get rid of it.”

Spike’s eyes fell once more to the body lying on the ground, and something unreadable flashed in them. Apprehension, maybe? “I’m not touching it. My job is done.”

Willow’s eyes widened when she realized that Spike was walking away. “Wait, Spike! You can’t just…”

He was gone before she could finish her sentence. She turned horrified eyes towards her girlfriend. “I can’t.”

Tara nodded. “Maybe we can find a way to reverse the glamour, so w-we won’t have to…”

Even Tara couldn’t say it. The thought of hauling something that looked like Buffy’s corpse and burying it or throwing it in the river…

Willow couldn’t hold back the small sob that escaped her lips.

Why the hell did this thing turn into Buffy, anyway?


* * * *


Buffy was released from the hospital shortly after one in the morning. The doctor had been very surprised at her quick recovery, given the amount of blood she’d lost. After checking her blood pressure and finding it in a normal, healthy range he dismissed her, and advised her to drink lots of fluids.

Doctors always said that. You could break your leg and they’d tell you to drink lots of fluids.

Buffy had dressed in the bathroom, pausing briefly to look at the bandage on her neck and the small flecks of blood on the collar of her t-shirt. She wanted to peel back the bandage and examine the bite mark, but if she walked out of there without the bandage on and her wound had healed quickly like she assumed it had, she would definitely attract the doctor’s attention again. She could always just place it back…

Buffy had her fingers on the edge of the gauzy tape when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Buffy?” a voice called desperately. “Giles said you were okay.”

She sighed and opened the door to see Willow and Tara standing on the other side. Willow’s eyes went wide and it was the last thing Buffy saw before the witch wrapped her arms around her.

“Easy, Will,” she said with a slight laugh. “I’m okay. Slayers heal fast, remember?”

Willow pulled back. “Yeah,” she replied shakily. “Yeah, I knew you’d be okay.”

“So, did Spike kill it?” Buffy asked.

Tara nodded. “It’s dead.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it sucked the immortality out of him. Which kind of makes you wonder how he’s still walking around all demony.”

“W-w-we thought of that,” said Tara, large eyes darting from Willow to Buffy. “We, um, removed its head… j-just in case.”

“Oh,” said Buffy, unaware of what the creature had looked like before Willow had swung the axe. Twice, since she didn’t completely sever it the first time. Both witches were relieved when the corpse reverted back to its demon form once the head had been removed. “Are you okay?” Buffy asked, seeing for the first time the redness of her friend’s face.

“I’ll be okay,” Willow replied. If she told Buffy that she’d been crying, more specifically why, she’d start all over again. She expected a good night’s rest would prepare her for the inevitable conversation.

Even though she fully expected to have nightmares about swinging that axe at Buffy’s neck.


* * * *


Spike sat in his armchair, staring at the axe Willow had returned to his crypt just minutes before. Apparently she’d borrowed it while he was still walking the streets, and Spike had an idea of what she used it for.

He felt bad. Guilty. Why the hell did he feel guilty? He’d been having little nagging feelings lately, but never this strong, and never all at once.

Knowing that Willow had to swing an axe at her friend’s head really got to him. He knew that the body had to be disposed of, but he couldn’t do it. Not after drinking from her.

Not after killing her.

He didn’t really kill her; it hadn’t been her neck he’d snapped. It hadn’t been the Slayer that came to his crypt earlier with that gleam in her eyes. God, but he’d wanted it to be. Maybe that’s why the Leech appeared to him in her form. Maybe it knew how to get to him, how to get his guard down so it could feed off him without much of a struggle.

But why would the Slayer get his guard down? If anything, his guard was up whenever she came around, ready to punch him in the nose in exchange for information. Maybe it was the feel of her tiny hands sliding up his chest and stopping gently at his neck. Maybe it was the sight of her lips, so close and so lush.

No, these were bad thoughts. These were weird thoughts.

It was better than thinking about what she looked like when he killed her. God, that was hurting him. Those big, watery eyes watching him in fear; knowing what he’d do. Her lips had trembled just as he’d always hoped they would, and her neck had snapped with a crack and fallen with a thud. That was a vampire’s dream, and yet to Spike it was becoming the thing of nightmares.

Spike’s eyes widened when it hit him.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I’ve fallen in love with her.”

* * * *


Buffy wore a scarf the next day to cover the wound on her neck. She hoped her mom wouldn’t notice, and luckily the scarf had evaded mention at the breakfast table. Her friends did notice, however, when they met at Giles’ that afternoon. Xander and Giles wouldn’t stop staring at the black piece of cloth wrapped around her neck, and Anya loudly voiced her suggestion to use a glamour to make it less obvious.

“I don’t do glamours,” Buffy replied. “I’d probably make my whole neck disappear, anyway.”

“So,” Giles had said, whipping off his glasses as if to signify the turn in their conversation. “This Leech creature. Are we sure it’s out of the way?”

“Willow removed its head,” Buffy answered frankly. “Apparently Spike snapped its neck, but she and Tara took it off just in case. Why didn’t Spike do it?” she asked, turning to Willow.

“He left,” she replied. “After he killed it, I mean.”

“So, that’s it? No more demon?” Anya asked, sounding bored. “Can we go now?”

“What about Spike?” Giles asked, glancing at Buffy before focusing on the two witches sitting on the barstools. “He won’t be a problem, will he? Should we consider eliminating him?”

“No,” Buffy answered quickly, but calmly. “Spike did what we asked him to. Besides, hat’s the point of killing him when we put so much effort into saving him?”

Giles averted his eyes. “Good point.”

“There’s a thing you might want to know about,” Willow replied, looking to Tara before she continued. “Before Spike killed it, the Leech turned into Buffy.”

“What?” spilled from several people’s mouths.

“What do you mean, it turned into me?” Buffy asked.

“W-well,” Willow replied, “it shape-shifted, or did a glamour. I think it was trying to fake Spike out or something. But he… he killed it anyway. Even though it…”

Everyone bowed their heads as they took in this information. Tara spoke up. “Um, it didn’t change back after he’d killed it, though. So… so th-that’s why Willow cut its h-h-h-ead off.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as she realized the gravity of that statement.

“Oh my God,” Xander muttered, looking at Willow in shock. “You… you cut off her… you…”

Willow swallowed and nodded. “It wasn’t her.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Buffy told her, understanding now her friend’s emotional reaction to seeing her again last night. “But I’m glad to know that you can.”

“What,” she replied in disgusted shock, “cut my friends’ heads off?”

“No,” Buffy replied evenly. “Do what needs to be done.”

They remained silent for several minutes before Anya insisted that she and Xander leave. He patted Willow on the hand as he walked out the door. Giles remained seated at his desk, staring into space thoughtfully.

Buffy stood against the kitchen doorway with her arms folded across her chest, unable to think about anything except how it was all her fault. She wasn’t trying to be Guilt Girl; she was just recognizing the truth for what it was. If she hadn’t gone to Spike’s crypt, if she hadn’t insisted that they help him, then Willow wouldn’t have had to go through what she did last night. Then she, Buffy, wouldn’t have been bitten.

But Spike might be dead, and so might several others if the Leech hadn’t been killed. Buffy knew how the image of killing her affected Willow, and she could only imagine what Spike was feeling. Most likely glee and a sense of victory in getting as close to killing the Slayer as he could. She moved from the doorway.

“I’ll call you later,” she said to no one in particular as she made her way to the door.

It was time to check on Spike again.


* * * *


This time it was different. This time she wasn’t just pleading with her eyes, she was begging vocally.

“Please,” she whispered as his grip tightened on her hair. “Don’t hurt me.”

“I’m supposed to,” he replied gruffly, pulling her closer.

Buffy sobbed, a reaction he wouldn’t imagine for the Slayer even if she were in this situation. Begging, yeah. But sobbing?

“If you kill me,” she said; her voice suddenly calm. Her eyes were filled with tears yet her face was dry, as if he hadn’t just watched the tears spill down her cheeks. “I’ll stop.”

Spike stared at her, his gaze softening. He didn’t want her to stop. He wanted her to keep going and going like the bloody battery bunny with the sunglasses. But she had to know, didn’t she? On one good day, every Slayer stops.

The crunch was louder this time when he snapped her neck, but she didn’t fall. She stopped in midair as if frozen in time, her eyes staring unblinkingly at him.

Spike scrambled into a sitting position as the door to his crypt flew open. The sheets gathered around his waist, hiding his nudity from the Slayer as she entered his crypt, her eyes full of life.

“It’s still daylight, you daft bint!” Spike growled as the sunlight poured through the open door and towards the sarcophagus he’d made his bed on. “Close the bloody door.”

Buffy rolled her eyes before kicking at the door behind her, causing it to slam shut with a bang. “It’s noon. The sun’s above our heads, not on the other side of the door.”

“Still,” he said, sitting up straight. “Can’t be too careful.”

Buffy was surprised to see that he still looked sickly. His eyes were rimmed with yellow, and his lips were the same shade, as if the vampire had come down with a case of jaundice. It was disconcerting, seeing him this way, since his appearance rarely changed. She could only think of the one time, after he’d been starved for days and had come running to them for help. It’s not like he didn’t deserve what had come to him, but Buffy still felt like the Initiative was wrong for what it did to him, and possibly several other vampires.

She’d always wondered what the chip was for. The most obvious explanation was that it was used as a muzzle, so that they could do their experiments on them without the human doctors being harmed. Buffy was glad Spike escaped. Killing demons? She could relate. But experimenting on them was wrong.

“Didn’t hurt your sense of hearing, did I?” Spike asked.

Buffy blinked. Spike had been talking. Somehow she’d missed that. She’d also missed him putting on a pair of pants and moving to stand in front of her.

“What?” she asked.

Spike rolled his eyes. “I asked if you were okay.”

Buffy gave him an odd look. “I’m fine,” she replied sharply, as if his question was some sort of accusation. “I guess it’s easier the third time around.”

Spike’s jaw flexed, and Buffy sensed something primitive about him. Almost possessive. She stepped back, realizing for the first time how close he was to her.

“Willow told me what happened.”

She was about to clarify, but there was obviously no need. Spike averted his eyes quicker than she thought humanly possible. That could be attributed to his vampire status.

“That right? I suppose you’re angry or something.”

“Why would I be angry?” she asked. “You killed it, like we asked you to.”

“Didn’t do it ‘cause you asked me to,” he argued. “Did it ‘cause the blighter had it comin’, didn’t he?”

“The same could be said for you, given that logic,” she replied.

“Same goes for you,” he argued, earning himself an eyebrow raise. “Yeah.”

“I deserve to be killed by a demon?” she asked icily.

“You kill plenty yourself, pet. Only seems fair,” said Spike with a slight shrug.

“Yeah, but the difference between you and me is that I don’t do it for my personal enjoyment. It’s my job.”

“Right,” said Spike with a hesitant laugh. He didn’t know what he could get away with when it came to the Slayer. Then again, part of him wanted to set her off. Like usual. “Like you don’t enjoy it. Night after night, jamming that piece of wood deep inside the baddies.”

Buffy’s face contorted with disgust. “Oh, gross. You just went to a perverted place, didn’t you?”

“Admit it, you like killing demons.”

“I like saving people. If by doing that I have to kill demons, then yes, maybe you’re right.”

“No,” he insisted, stepping closer to her. “I’m saying… you like it.”

Buffy glared at him before raising her eyes to the ceiling. “Why am I surprised to hear this from you?”

Spike caught sight of a tiny red dot on her skin, peeking over the black piece of fabric wrapped around her throat. He raised his hand and tugged it away from the mark he’d made on her neck.

“You liked it when I bit you,” he said in a low voice, his fingers grazing over the tiny marks.

Buffy gasped and stared at him with wide eyes, as if she couldn’t believe that he’d just touched her there. But she didn’t move. Spike’s fingers continued to move over the mark, just the barest hint of contact as his fingers gently raked over the raised flesh.

“Can’t say I enjoyed it much,” he replied honestly, his eyes zeroed in on her lips. He meant to look at her neck, but he couldn’t stop staring at them. Slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of the pearly white teeth behind them. “Not with hundreds of volts of electricity coursing through my brain. Still hurts. But I’d do it again…”

Suddenly he was sprawled on the floor with the Slayer straddling his waist, a strong hand gripping his forearm while the other held a stake firmly over his heart.

“Wow,” he replied in a tight voice. “You had that handy.”

“Don’t make me do it,” she growled, and Spike could tell that she was physically restraining herself from shoving that piece of wood into his chest. It was digging into his skin, and her wrist was shaking as she attempted to control the urge to kill him right there.

“You gonna kill me, Slayer?” he asked, raising his chin.

“If you can do it, I can.” She shoved the stake hard into his chest, but not enough to go through, just enough to break skin.

Spike hissed. “That’s not fair, Slayer. I can’t help that it decided to look like you.”

That rage and power he’d felt pulsating through her disappeared quickly and she sat up, glaring at him, while at the same time pulling the stake away from his chest. He raised his head off the ground.

“Why did it change into me, Spike?”

The question was more like an accusation. Spike thought he knew the answer, but he wasn’t going to share that little revelation with her. Though she might find out quick if she scooted backwards a bit.

“How the bloody hell should I know? Probably thought it’d be intimidating, like I wouldn’t try to kill something that looked like the Slayer.”

“But it changed into me before it attacked you,” she pointed out.

Spike didn’t recover in time from that one. “How did you know that?”

“You just confirmed it, for one. Plus, there was something you said when I first talked to you. Something about me doing something to you. After what Willow told me happened last night, I put two and two together.”

“And here I thought your arithmetic was lacking,” he replied dryly. Spike looked her up and down. “So, you gonna kill me, or are you just sitting on me for the sheer thrill of it?”

Buffy’s eyes widened and she shot off of him, and Spike instantly regretted the loss of contact. Suddenly he couldn’t get enough of her. He stood and reached for her arm, grasping her elbow and pulling her close. Spike didn’t even think before doing this, and before he knew it he was against the wall, the stake pressed against his chest once more. He was getting tired of this game, so he grabbed her wrist and tossed the stake aside before twirling so that he had her against the wall. He hadn’t meant to vamp out, but he knew that he did by the terrified look in her eyes.

Buffy froze, even though she knew he still had the chip. He’d bitten her last night with it, she reminded herself. Spike didn’t seem to mind snapping the neck of something that looked like her, either, so she couldn’t help that small moment of fear, during which she became acutely aware of the small holes in her neck.

Spike felt the pull to her neck, like the mark was calling to him, but something happened. Instead of going for her throat, he went for her mouth. He was kissing her. Spike had the Slayer pinned against the wall and instead of ripping her throat out he was giving her a good snog, fangs and all. It was lasting a bit longer than he thought it would, once coherent thought returned to him. That had taken awhile, too, so either Buffy had gone completely catatonic or she wasn’t fighting him for some other reason.

Maybe that’s because she was kissing him back.

“Ow!” Buffy whimpered, pulling away when one of his fangs scraped the inside of her lip. Spike pulled her lower lip into his mouth and sucked on the blood that formed there.

Buffy pulled away from him in horror. She wasn’t afraid of what he’d just done, it was the fact that he’d just hurt her without his chip firing that registered. She pointed this out when he didn’t seem to catch on.

“You hurt me,” she whispered, as if saying it louder would make it happen again.

Spike’s brows knit together as he gazed at her bleeding lip. “Right,” he replied. “Sorry about that.”

“Spike, the chip.”

His eyes widened, and before he could fully process that realization, both of their eyes fell to his hand, which had found its way to her breast at some point. He pulled away quickly, from her and the wall.

“I didn’t mean to, you know,” he said defensively, pacing back and forth. His eyes fell to the stake on the ground. “So, don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

Spike stopped moving. “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But if you hurt anyone else before I find out what’s happening, you will die.”

The door slammed shut behind her.