Synopsis

Chapter Six

Treasures

He had told himself he was going to stay away. He’d go find him a nice, plump bird and have himself a feast. Forget the young Slayer and her incredible likeness to his Elizabeth.

Instead he found himself in the cemetery again, hiding in the shadows.

Spike closed his eyes. Why did he do that; always refer to Elizabeth as his? She had never belonged to him. She had been the Slayer, belonging only to her calling, the rest of the world be damned. But Elizabeth had never let him forget that she was also a woman. One with a woman’s needs. Damn her. Damn her and her pure heart; so open and guileless. Damn her refusal to listen to reason and rational; always insisting that she couldn’t deny what she felt in her heart.

Old memories he had never been able to suppress assailed him once more, tearing at his vitals. Those last few days in London with her. The vows she had made and the things she had said to him. The heartbreaking decision he had made. He could still see her as she lay sobbing on the ground, petite frame wracked with pain and heartache. He’d had to do it. It was the right thing; the only thing he felt he had done right since his turning.

For years he had refused to allow himself to indulge in any doubts or what-ifs, but now, after meeting Elizabeth’s doppelganger, he found himself wasting far to much time imagining how things might have gone if he had allowed himself to stay. What would his own un-life have been like if he had helped to make her dreams come true?

Spike reached into his pocket, pulling out the tiny object that had been in his possession for over a hundred years. It had become his talisman, something to cling to when Drusilla once again turned him away, making it clear just who she belonged to. He had nearly died for it in Spain. Somehow it had dropped from his pocket and he had been forced to brave the sun to retrieve his tiny treasure.

He truly felt it was the only thing that was his and his alone.

London 1888

Spike and Elizabeth sat on a stone bench waiting for their demon contact to come and tell them some news about The Beast. He tried to avoid looking at her but it was impossible.

She seemed to glow in the moonlight.

She turned, smiling nervously at him. “My prose…Was it not to your liking?” she asked softly.

He shook his head, entranced by the sweep of her lashes against the blush of her cheeks.

“It was beautiful. You’re a much better poet than I ever was, pet.”

Elizabeth looked at him with an expression of delighted surprise. “Mr. Bagley, you compose poetry?”

Spike chuckled. “I attempted to compose poetry. They used to call me William the Bloody. William the Bloody Awful Poet, that is.”

Elizabeth laughed, bringing an involuntary smile to his face; the very sound of her mirth a beautiful melody to his ears.

They realized that they were staring at each other and quickly turned away, a bit uncomfortable.

“Angelus is caring for your Dark Princess this evening?” Elizabeth asked, busying herself with the strings of the small purse she carried. “I do hope she is faring better from her attack?”

Spike nodded. He found her genuine concern for Drusilla to be touching. “They are holed up somewhere. It makes more sense to send me out because I’m nowhere near as well known as Angelus,” he explained.

“I much prefer your company to that of Angelus, Mr. Bagley. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but he can become a bit boorish if one spends too much time in his company.”

Spike looked at her questioningly. “Why do you insist on doing that?” he demanded.

Elizabeth frowned at him, a bit confused by the turn their conversation had taken. “Do what, Mr. Bagley?”

“That! You call him Angelus, but refer to me as ‘Mr. Bagley’.”

“Oh that,” she said, waving a hand dismissively before smoothing the folds of her skirt.

“Until I was called, I was raised to be a proper young lady of fashion.” She smiled deprecatingly down at her scanty attire. “A lady should always address a gentleman by his surname until other wise requested.”

Spike jumped to his feet and began to pace in front of her. “See? You’re doing it again. For some reason, you insist on forgetting what I am, Elizabeth. I’m a demon, just like Angelus. You have to stop thinking of me as anything but what I am.”

She glared up at him with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “I’m very much aware that you’re a demon, Mr. Bagley. I am the Slayer, after all. But you’ll never convince me that you are the least bit like Angelus.”

Enraged by the contrariness of her nature, Spike shifted, allowing her a glimpse of his demon visage for the first time.

“This is what I am, little girl. I was created by Angelus. He has beaten and molded and shaped me into what I am today; a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. Were it not for this bloody alliance, I would rip out your throat and feast on your blood until I drained you dry, so stop living in your dreams and trying to make me out to be something I’m not. William Bagley is dead!”

Elizabeth rose gracefully to her feet, ignoring the purse that fell from her lap. Her green eyes didn’t waiver from his as she moved to stand before him, scant inches separating their bodies. He could detect no fear or anxiety in her scent. He expected something from her…Anger, fear, hurt, or perhaps pity. He was even prepared for her to whip out one of the many stakes she had hidden within the folds of her revealing gown. He dreaded that possibility, not knowing if he could bring himself to fight her if she tried to stake him.

He was completely unprepared for her reaction; never anticipated the small hand that reached upwards, gently tracing the ridges on his forehead. Every bit of his self-righteous anger was drained from him by the simple touch of her hand. His amber eyes slid closed as his threatening growl faded into a confused whimper.

“You are more than just a demon.” Elizabeth’s voice was achingly soft as her warm fingers continued to stroke his face. “I know what you are. I see with it with my own eyes. But you’re more than a demon. You’re better than Angelus. He feels nothing but rage. You; you’re different. I can see it.”

Spike shook off his demon and turned away from the gentle, accepting expression in her eyes. And there was something else there: some other emotion that he fought to overlook. It couldn’t be…She couldn’t…

She refused to be ignored and circled him until she was staring defiantly up into his eyes once more. “I can see all of you,” she persisted. “I only wish you could see it too.”

With that, Elizabeth walked away. She knelt on the ground and began picking up the items that had spilled from her fallen purse.

Spike stood over her, watching as she collected her belongings. His eye was caught by a shiny, silver object and he bent to pick it up. “This yours?” he asked.

Elizabeth blushed and nodded. “It’s a Franc Germinal,” she mumbled. “It’s…it’s always been my dream to go to France. I was supposed to accompany my Uncle and his wife the year I was called. I found it awhile ago. I kept it thinking perhaps one day I would be able to use it.”

Spike looked at her. She was such a contradiction, this tiny woman in front of him. How could her dreams be so pure even though she went out night after night battling the most evil of beings?

Elizabeth straightened up quickly, her eyes searching the surrounding foliage. “We’re no longer alone,” she said. “Make yourself scarce. It will do us no good if your kind sees you with me.”

Spike pocketed the franc and walked into the shadows.

________________________________________________________________

It had faded through the years. The raised image of Napoleon Bonaparte had smoothed out to almost nothing from constant handling. He had no idea why he had kept it. Many times over the century he had contemplated flinging it away, but he had never been able to.

Perhaps it was because Elizabeth never asked for her tiny treasure back. He knew that she had given him her dream that night, perhaps hoping that he would help her make it come true.

Instead he had helped to crush it.

Spike put the small coin back in his pocket. He heard the distinct sound of a heartbeat approaching. He slid further into the shadows hoping and praying it was not who he thought it was. Maybe it was a teen or two he could snack on.

Of course his hopes were dashed when he saw her strolling towards him, her fingers twirling a stake. She stopped abruptly, scanning the trees.

Spike closed his eyes, praying she couldn’t sense him.

“I know you're there!” she called.

Spike groaned, cursing those bloody Slayer senses. He told himself to run but instead he stood there, waiting to hear what she had to say.

Chapter Seven

The Nearness Of You

”I know you’re there!”

Buffy waited in the darkness. She had taken great pains with her appearance for tonight’s slaying. A part of her felt silly for acting as though she were preparing for a date rather than going out to kick some demon ass. Nothing had appeased her when it came to her wardrobe. Finally, she had settled on a while camisole top and a pair of brand new black leather pants. Her hair was done up in a smooth French twist with soft tendrils framing her face. Practical, yet fashionable, she assured herself, unwilling to admit that it was a conscious effort to recreate the elaborate upsweep she remembered sporting in her dreams.

Tonight she hunted more than just demons. She sought out the man that haunted her dreams for as long as she had been called to be a slayer.

His beautiful eyes, his well chiseled jaw, the softness of his face; everything she had dreamed about for so long had come to life in her arms for that all-too-brief moment last night.

Tonight she hunted him.

None of this made sense. It was fine when it was all in her subconscious, but now he was real and a vampire no less. Angel’s presence in her life had made things difficult enough, but at least he had a soul. Something told her that she couldn’t be so lucky with the vamp of her dreams. Everything she had been taught told her that it was wrong. She should find him and put an end his existence. She couldn’t though. He meant something to her.

She had walked into the cemetery butterflies in her stomach; her senses sharp and alert. When she entered the familiar clearing she had felt something watching her. She waited patiently, the tingle at the back of her neck told her it was a vampire, but the surge in her heart rate told her it was HIM. She felt no fear; no change in the air that told her he was waiting to strike. Just the feeling that she was being watched, studied.

In spite of her intense curiosity, she fought the urge to seek out his hiding place. She needed to know what he felt about last night’s encounter. For a brief moment she thought she had glimpsed an awareness of who she was in those blue eyes, but she was unsure. Did he run because of Angel? Or did he run away because it seemed as if a virtual stranger and his natural enemy was about to kiss him? For a moment she felt acute embarrassment her actions, but she had been helpless under the assault of her memories. The familiar sensation of being in his arms had quickly overcome any inhibitions she’d had.

“Please come out. I need to talk to you,” she said, her eyes scanning the darkness of the cemetery grounds.

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead but Buffy didn’t flinch. She wasn’t leaving tonight without some answers.

Spike tried to force himself to leave. He told his feet to move, but he found himself frozen in place. Bloody hell, he thought, watching her move a few steps closer. Gotta move. Gotta get the hell out of here before…Before she…

She glanced upward and her face was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning. He was completely captivated as her appearance sent him reeling back to a different time and place.

He could almost see the baby’s breath that had adorned Elizabeth’s hair the night of the party. The top that this chit was wearing reminded him of the Victorian lace that she had worn with such elegance. The only thing that spoiled the illusion for him was the pants she wore. His Elizabeth had often lamented that Slaying would be so much more convenient if she could wear trousers. The thought had always made Spike laugh.

“Bullocks, stop doing that. It’s not her It’s not her,” he chanted the mantra over and over in his head. He forced himself to remember that this girl was NOT Elizabeth. It had to be some clever ruse to throw him off his game. Maybe Angelus had found out somehow that they were in Sunnydale, and this was all part of some grand scheme Peaches had cooked up to torment him. There was no way that he couldn’t have noted the resemblance between the two Slayers.

Spike watched her for a bit longer, trying to find the courage to show himself and end the life of his third Slayer.

Buffy turned around and around. “I know who you are,” she yelled.

Spike smirked.

“I know.”

Spike took a step back ready to use her questioning state to his advantage in his mind he played all his moves out; countering every punch and kick until he gained the upper hand and took her out. He would make her pay. Pay for all the havoc she had wrecked on his kind. Pay for teasing and taunting him; trying to get him to reveal himself. But most of all she would pay for looking like Elizabeth. She wasn’t Elizabeth. His Elizabeth was dead and by God, by the end of this night, she would be too.

“I only want to ask you a few questions,” she cajoled. “Look, no stakes!” She waved her arms comically over her head.

Thunder roared over his head as if giving him a deadly entrance. He watched as she shivered. Spike smiled to himself, finally ready to end his torment. He was about to have himself One Good Day. He was about to lunged forward when he heard her speak once more.

“Your name is William.”

His whole body jerked to an abrupt halt. He felt like he’d run head first into a brick wall. He ducked back behind the tree to calm himself.

Buffy walked a bit closer to where she thought she sensed him. She was determined to draw him out. “I dream about you all the time. Well, not all the time, but I find myself wishing I did.”

Spike reasoned that it would be easy for her to learn his former name. Bint had a watcher, didn’t she? The tweedy types were always gung-ho on the knowledge front. Hopefully this Slayer listened to her watcher better than Elizabeth had listed to Sir James.

“My name is Buffy,” she called into the darkness.

Spike tried to contain his snort. What the hell kind of a name was Buffy?

“In my dreams, though, you call me Elizabeth.”

Spike felt himself begin to shake. It couldn’t be…

“I can’t explain it.” She gave a bitter laugh. “God, I wish I could! I just know you. I see us talking, sitting in the darkness. Sometimes we are happy, but other times not so much. You are mad at me a lot, but you never mean it,” Buffy said, her voice sounding almost child-like.

Spike wrapped his arms around himself. This wasn’t possible. How could this be?

“You’re just mad because I won’t listen to you. I am not very good at that even now. Please, I don’t understand any of this either. I was hoping you would explain it to me. I’m having the hardest time trying to make sense of it.”

Spike shook his head telling himself none of this was real. Carefully he moved in the shadows.

Buffy sensed he was getting ready to flee. Panic flooded through her. “We weren’t here. In Sunnydale, I mean. We were somewhere else. It was a long time ago,” she said.

Spike continued to walk away.

“WE DANCED!!” she screamed, sensing his presence pulling away from her.

Those words once again brought him to a halt.

Buffy closed her eyes as the thunder and lightning continued to rage overhead. “We were at a party. I was horrible at it. I kept stepping on your toes. And then later, you…you kissed me,” she choked out. “It was my first kiss and it was everything I’d hoped it would be.”

He found himself moving slowly towards her, stopping just inside the circle of complete darkness beneath the trees. His upper body leaned towards her, pulled by some uncontrollable force.

“It’s not just my dreams,” she went on softly. “I think about you all the time. I see you in my mind. You’re everywhere I turn. Sometimes when things get too hard….” She stopped herself, looking down as she obviously struggled for control.

Spike furiously wiped tears from his eyes.

“Sometimes all I want to do is dream about you. So I can talk to you. It’s so weird. I don’t understand it. I want to. Please help me. Talk to me,” Buffy pleaded.

The skies finally broke loose and the rain came pouring down. She blinked away the wetness, not caring how soaked she was getting.

“Please. I know you don’t believe me. You think it is just a trick, but I swear, I wouldn’t do that to you!” Suddenly she had a revelation. “Here, I can prove it!!” She yelled, pulling something out of her back pocket. She tried to keep it from getting wet but it was impossible.

She prayed to whatever deity might be listening that she would be able to read it before it was reduced to a wad of pulp in her hands.

“Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
For we two look two ways, and cannot shine.”

Spike sank against the tree. Oh God…

“I wrote this!!” Buffy screamed. “It’s about you. It’s about us. I gave it to you. Please show yourself!”

The rain continued to drench her. She moved closer to the trees. “Stop being such a coward!!!” she raged.

Suddenly she heard a low, savage growl. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of her, his eyes a swirling vortex of emotions. Confusion and rage Pain and desire; and shining through all of it, a tiny thread of hope. Buffy bit her lip, trying to suppress an exultant smile.

Spike found himself gasping for unneeded breath as he stood there staring at her. He flinched for a moment when she raised her hand, afraid to feel her touch once more. It couldn’t be her, but everything inside him screamed to believe.

Buffy‘s fingers barely grazed his cheek. “Hello, Mr. Bagley,” she said, her voice trembling.

Uncaring of the rain that poured down on them, Spike reached out to her and caught her by the back of her neck. Without a further thought, he pulled her toward him and crushed her lips beneath his, kissing her passionately. He hauled her slight form against his, holding her as if his undead life depended on it.

“Elizabeth,” he gasped.

Buffy ducked her head, capturing his lips with her own. “I’m here,” she whispered.

Spike kissed her again, no longer caring if any of it was real.

Chapter 8

Fools Rush In

The walk back to Buffy’s house was quiet, neither speaking of what had transpired in the cemetery. Spike took off his long, leather coat and wrapped it around the drenched Slayer as they made their way up Revello Drive, casting quick glances at each other.
When they reached her front door, she took her keys out of her pocket and unlocked her door.

“My Mom is away for the night. She went to L.A. She and my father are finalizing their divorce,” Buffy explained, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“Um, Buffy?”

She looked back to see him standing on the threshold, his hands pressing gently against the barrier.

Spike looked down. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he muttered.

“Come in, William,” she said, her voice gentle and inviting.

Spike found himself smiling again. Not his normal wicked deadly smile; a shy, tentative one. The one he had tried constantly to hide from Elizabeth.

He stepped over the threshold. “Presto, no barrier.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, smiling at him in spite of the chills that were beginning to wrack her body. “I’m s-s-sorry. I should have remembered,” she said, her teeth chattering.

Noticing her shivers, Spike took the duster from her and flung it over the newel post.

Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her quickly up the stairs; conscious all the while of her warm breath against his neck. The door to her room was open, so he walked in and eased her down onto the bed. He went back down the hall to the bathroom and returned with her bathrobe and a towel.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered, wrapping a towel around her. “Silly girl, standing out in the rain like that.”

She smiled up at him. “I don’t think it’s all from the cold,” she confessed, dropping her eyes shyly.

Spike turned around to look out the window, giving her the opportunity to shed her wet clothes.

Buffy did just that, removing her sodden clothes and wrapping herself up in the fluffy robe.
Spike closed his eyes against her reflection in the dark window, trying to contain his own anxiety. He wondered to himself what the bloody hell was he doing here. He felt Buffy leave the room only to return with a pair of black sweats.

“They were my Dad’s,” Buffy explained.

Spike nodded, going into the bathroom to change. He stayed there for moment thinking about what to say to Buffy. She had so many questions. She had every right to ask him. He tried to think of where to start.

Spike opened the door to see Buffy standing right in front of him. She had an almost fearful look on her face. As if she was afraid he would disappear. He understood precisely why she felt that way. He too was afraid; afraid tonight would be some strange torturous dream.
Buffy took his wet clothes from him. “I’ll put these in the dryer. Wait in my room,” She requested.

Racing down to the basement, she quickly stuffed his clothes in the dryer and switched it on. She ran back up the stairs and found him standing there; holding her small stuffed pig and staring at a picture of her.

It had been taken in L.A. a year ago. She was standing in front of Hemery High School, wearing her cheerleading uniform and smiling brightly at the camera. Two weeks later she had been called and two months later she had burned down the gymnasium.

Spike turned around and saw her standing there. He looked down at the stuff animal and sat down on the bed. “It must be your favorite,” he commented, running his hand over the pigs tattered ears.

Buffy made her way over and sat down next to him. “How can you tell?” she asked. Her eyes strayed from the toy to the pale, sculpted muscles of his chest. She swallowed hard.

“He smells like you,” he explained with a smile, holding it out to her.

“My Dad won it for me at my school carnival one year. I’ve been sleeping with Mr. Gordo for a long time.”

Spike’s head snapped up. “Mr. Who?” He asked.

“Mr. Gordo.”

He closed his eyes. Images of a large, brutish man filled his mind. Caesar Gordo, the owner and proprietor to the most well known demon pub in South London. He’d had a huge crush on Elizabeth and allowed her to come in and question his patrons often. Spike had always hated the way he used to leer had her.

How did Buffy know? What did she remember? God, none of this made sense. He turned away. “I should go. This was a bad idea.”

“I...I don’t want you to go, William,” she said. “Besides, you were supposed to explain to me what is going on.”

“I can’t tell you what’s going on. I don’t even know what the bloody hell it all means!” he growled, jumping to his feet and pacing in agitation.

“My name isn’t William anymore. It’s Spike. Have your Watcher look me up. I got my name because I used to stick railroad spikes in my victims skulls. I’ve come up against three Slayers and killed two of them. I’ve spent the last century terrorizing the multitudes. I am as evil and deadly as they get.”

Buffy sat quietly, listening intently.

Why did none of this make her even the slightest bit nervous? Not even his mention of bagging the two Slayers had made her flinch. Spike fell to his knees in front of her, taking her small hands in his. He refused to meet her eyes.

“The first Slayer, I met…She….Her name was Elizabeth. I met her in London. Something was going on; some kind of mystical fog that was attacking human and demon alike. Ang…” He managed to cut himself off before he mentioned his sire’s name. “My Sire arranged a truce with her watcher. In exchange for safe passage to France, we would help the Slayer find a way to destroy the Beast that hid in the fog. Elizabeth and I worked together for a few weeks. We became close,” he explained, closing his eyes against her.

Buffy watched his thumbs gently brush the backs of her hands. “Go on,” she pleaded.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut even tighter if it was possible. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

He released her hands and shot to his feet once more. “I don’t need this!!”

Buffy watched him as he paced.

“It’s been over a hundred years. I thought I’d managed to push all of it aside. No thinking about it. No thinking about her,” his voice trembled. “And now here you are; standing there pushing me just like she did. You look like her. You sound like her. Fucking hell, you even SMELL like her! It was wrong of me to feel that way then and it’s wrong to feel this way now.”

Buffy rose to her feet. “You think this is easy for me? Until yesterday, you were just a guy in my dreams. Okay, really great dreams, but in them I didn’t know. I mean not really.”

“What?”

“About you being a part of Club Dead! I am mean, hello? Vampire Slayer here. Not exactly supposed to be fraternizing with the enemy. I realized it last night as soon as I touched you, but do I ever learn? No, of course not, because there I was tonight; screaming at the top of my lungs in a cemetery for you.”

“I need to get out of here,” he insisted. “Talk to your Watcher. I’m sure he can suss out why you’re suddenly channeling Elizabeth’s memories.”

Buffy grabbed his arm and spun him to face her. Her eyes sparkled with anger at his stubbornness. “Don’t you get it? I don’t have HER memories. They’re MY memories! I...I am Elizabeth!” she cried.

Spike looked at her in shock, shaking his head in denial.

“What she saw. What she was. All the things she felt. I feel them, too. Not in some strange third person kind of way, but as if I was right there.” She moved to stand in front of him, tears pooling in her anguished eyes. “I feel everything, Spike, but most of all I feel what she felt for you.”

He held himself stiffly as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

“I don’t think I can do this again,” he choked out.

Taking him by surprise, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the bed. When her back hit the mattress, he landed on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him with such passion that Spike felt dizzy.

“Don’t think...” she whispered.

Chapter Nine

Upon the Night's Starr'd Face

He looked into her eyes.

He should have never looked into her eyes. If he hadn’t, he would still have been able to push her away; could have left her laying there and walked out the door.

Or he could have taken advantage of her vulnerable position, pinning her down and ripping her throat out; bathing in her blood and thus claiming his third Slayer.

But, he looked into her eyes.

In that instant, he forgot all about Drusilla and the Master with their mad plans. He forgot all about killing her. Everything he’d ever felt for his first Slayer bombarded him until his very nature couldn't be ignored.

Spike lowered his lips to hers, his lips brushing gently over hers. She stared up at him, eyes wide with anticipation and adoration. Buffy shivered, clinging to him a bit harder than she intended. He accepted her needy embrace, needing it just as much, if not more, than she did. He remembered pushing her touch away so many times. Not tonight. Not as long as she would have him.

She broke free of the kiss, panting a bit, stroking her fingers over the chiseled lines of his face, reveling in his reaction to her touch.

“God, Buffy,” he murmured, rubbing his face against the soft skin of her palm.

Her robe had loosened and was beginning to slip, revealing the smooth skin of her shoulders. Seeing this, Spike moved to pull the edges back together. Her tiny hands encircled his wrists in a firm grip; stilling his movements. She met his troubled gaze with a look of clear-eyed certainty; tugging down on his wrists until his palms rested on the softness of her breasts.
He closed his eyes tightly as she guided his hands in a circular motion, telling him through her touch what she needed from him. “Buffy don’t,” he whispered, his voice a little harsh. “I can’t do this. Not like this.”

She let go of his wrists and framed his face with her hands, her thumbs stroking the high arch of his cheek bones. “I’m ready for this. I want this, Spike. I want you.”

Her soft words of assurance were his undoing. Spike kissed her again, no longer holding back as he licked and nipped at her mouth. His tongue traced the outline of her lips before sliding inside to dance with hers. He felt her soft, warm hands skim up his back hesitantly; almost as if she was waiting for permission. He smiled against her lips as he felt her touch become more confident as she stroked downwards, pausing for the briefest of moments before sliding under the drawstring waist of his borrowed sweatpants to massage the taut muscles of his bottom.

Reaching between them, he found the belt of her robe and pulled it loose, pushing the edges apart. An involuntary gasp escaped him as he felt the warmth of her bare breasts against his chest for the first time. Wanting to feel all of her, he moved back to sit on his haunches and pushed the garment open, baring her completely to his hungry eyes.

Buffy’s wide, uncertain eyes met his as he knelt between her thighs. She felt herself blushing and fighting the urge to cover herself; afraid that he might somehow find her lacking.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Spike murmured. He rested a hand on each knee and glided them upwards; relishing the smooth, silken heat of her skin. Her body arched against the coolness of his hands as they slid up over her ribs and cupped her breasts, his long fingers molding and shaping their plump contours.

He moved to lean over her, his eyes not releasing their mesmerizing hold on hers as he lowered his head and captured one pebbled rose tip with his lips.

A soft gasp of delight escaped her and her eyes drifted closed to savor the delicious torment of his mouth nipping and sucking at her breasts. Each tug of his suckling mouth intensified the throbbing pressure that was building low in her pelvis. Her hands roamed restlessly over his back and shoulders, fingers delving into his hair to hold him to her as she bowed her body against the mattress.

His mouth left her breasts to cover hers in a scorching kiss as he settled more of his weight against her. She squirmed restlessly, needing more of him. The muscles of his stomach tensed as her felt her small fingers nimbly undoing the string that held his sweats up. He lifted his hips to help her and when they gaped away from his body, he felt her pushing her feet against his legs to force them down far enough so he could impatiently kick them away.

Buffy parted her legs wider so that when he turned back to her, he slid into the warm cradle between her thighs. She moaned blissfully into his mouth as she rolled her hips and tightened her knees against his ribs. Skin to skin, he pressed against her, the length of him hot and thick and hard against the moist heat of her sex. Moving instinctively, she rocked her hips to create a delicious friction.

He lifted his head and inhaled sharply, the scent of her arousal eclipsing all of his remaining senses. Tracing her delicate jaw line with gentle fingers, he silently willed her to open her eyes; to see him. Her eyelids drifted slowly upwards and he found himself drowning in the emerald oceans of her eyes.

She smiled up at him, the one desire that he had denied himself laid out before him; eager and willing. Her hand drifted over his chest and taut belly to take firm hold of his throbbing erection and guide it to rest at her entrance. She held him there, her fingers stroking up and down his length as she urged him on.

Spike shuddered at her touch, the final walls of his resistance crumbling to dust. He felt a surge of need within him, an overwhelming desire to show her how much he regretted not giving this part of himself to the Elizabeth she had been. Giving in to her demands, he pushed his hips forward, groaning as the first few inches breached her incredibly tight channel. He reined in the desire to slam into her, knowing he could hurt her badly if he did so. Slowly, patiently, he worked himself carefully in and out, lubricating his wide girth with her slick juices to ease the way.

At first his lust addled brain didn’t register what he was feeling inside her. He butted against the thin barrier a few more times before realization dawned. Aghast, his shocked eyes flew to her face as he tried to pull out of her.

“No!” Buffy cried out, tightening her legs around him and gripping his ass in both hands. “Please, don’t stop.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and rested his forehead in the hollow between her breasts. How could he not have known? He cursed himself, realizing that he had mistaken her natural sensuality for sexual experience.

“It shouldn’t be me that takes this from you, luv,” he protested, making another attempt to withdraw from her warmth.

Buffy trembled at his use of the familiar endearment. She gripped his head and drew his mouth up to meet hers, worrying his bottom lip between her teeth before sliding her tongue inside to war with his. Taking his hand in hers, she pressed it over her left breast.

“Can you feel that?” she whispered, biting at the hard point of his chin. “That’s what you do to me.” She began to tighten and release her inner muscles around him, following the rhythm of her heart as it beat under his palm.

Spike’s entire body shook from the effort he was making to control his response to her seduction.

Her lips moved to his ear, her warm breath brushing against it as she spoke. “It could only be you, Spike. It’s always been you. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever for this. For you.”

The softly spoken words snapped his tenuous control. He didn’t have the strength to deny her as he had so long ago. With a low, possessive growl, he drove into her willing body.
Buffy gasped at the sudden, sharp invasion; crying out from the burning pain.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Spike whispered. “I know it hurts.” He held himself still, kissing the tears from her eyelids before capturing her lips in a deep, drugging kiss.

The pain had eased to a dull ache and she pushed her hips up to meet his, her nails digging into his shoulders until he began move with slow, steady strokes.

Another low growl ripped from him as her scent filled his nostrils. Arousal mixed with the blood from taking her innocence perfumed the air and he began to panic. He battled for control over his demon, but the smell of Slayer blood; rich and powerful, intoxicated him.
She sensed his inner conflict and knew the reason for it, watching in fascination as his eyes flashed gemlike fires of sapphire and topaz as the demon fought to be free. She kissed him once more and then drew his mouth to her neck, cradling the back of his neck with her hand as she silently gave him permission.

“NO!” Spike shook his head violently as he continued to pump into her. “Can’t…”
“It’s all right. I trust you, Spike,” she said urgently, her voice ragged as she arched up to meet each powerful thrust. He caught her leg, gripping behind her knee and pushing it high against her chest, grunting as he plowed deeper inside her.

Spike’s reaction to the gift of her words was instantaneous. He growled as he vamped, feeling her delicious shiver as his ridged forehead brushed the tender skin of her neck. Ignoring the demons demands that he rip her throat out and drain her dry, he found the perfect spot and sank his fangs reverently into her soft, fragrant flesh.

The shallow pulls he took of her blood brought such a flood of sensation within her that she didn’t think she could bear it. Sweet, torturous pleasure swirled outward from the pit of her stomach until her entire body prickled and her climax crashed over her. She threw her head back with a choked scream, sobbing his name as she clung to him.

Spike felt her tight Slayer muscles clench around him and took one last mouthful of her potent blood before he came with a growling roar, his body jerking against hers as he spilled inside her.

She shivered with the aftershocks of her orgasm, feeling another small one grip her as he pulled his fangs free and began to lap at her wounds until they closed. Satisfied that they were properly tended to, he rolled onto his back, keeping himself snug within her as he pulled her slight weight on top of him and cuddled her close.

“Oh, God, Buffy,” he moaned, burying his face in her silky hair. “What have you done to me, luv?”

Chapter Ten

Heart Beats

Spike watched the tiny slayer sleep peacefully in his arms. She stirred for a moment, tucking her head under his chin, sighing contentedly. Try as he might, Spike could not help but smile. Her delicate fingers stroked at the hairs on back of his head as she pressed herself into him, almost as if she was trying to lose herself in his arms.

For just a brief moment, Spike forgot what he was. He let himself imagine he was just a man lying next to his lover after a bout of passion. He fanaticized about waking her up with kisses and starting their day together.

He wondered if Buffy wanted to go to France as well. Maybe he could take her there; hold her tight as they looked at the world below from atop the Effiel Tower.

For a moment a brief moment he allowed himself to dream.

Then he felt it. To a human it would have meant nothing. Just a biological necessity. It came along with the rising and falling of one’s chest as they lay in their sleep. The quiet steady thumping of a heartbeat. Her heartbeat.

Spike kissed the top of her head tightening his hold on of the girl who lay in his arms. He knew it wasn’t simply deja vu. He had been here at this moment before.

East London 1888
Brookwood Cemetery

“Oh, just bloody brilliant!!!” Spike screamed, helping the Slayer push the heavy stone door shut on the crypt they had run into.

“I don’t see what you are so out of sorts about, Mr. Bagley. You are the one who was insistent that we run rather than face this particular demon.”

“For the last time, pet. It’s a Pargo demon. Only water can kill them.” Spike groaned as the demon battered against the door.

“I have holy water,” Elizabeth offered.

“Don’t have enough to drown the bloody thing.”

They finished shutting the door just as something thumped against it with such a force it knocked both the vampire and slayer down.

“I don’t think that will hold him out.”

Spike opened his mouth to say something snarky when they heard the thunder outside then the rain began to pour down as something outside let loose an inhuman howl.
“Guess that’s, that now isn’t it.” Spike smirked.

Elizabeth listened to the sound of the rain. It was pouring by now and if they attempted to leave now they might run into some other creatures of the night. Even though Elizabeth had fought in the rain before, it was never a pleasurable experience.

“Let’s give it a moment, pet. Maybe it will die down a bit.”

Elizabeth nodded, walking over to a stone sarcophagus and sitting on top if it.
Spike bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. She acted as if she was sitting on a throne of velvet and gold rather than a dusty vessel that harbored someone’s dearly departed. That was only one of the many things about her that enthralled him. She was the Slayer. The Chosen One. Strong, tough, and determined; but she still walked around with the grace and elegance of a proper Victorian lady.

Spike propped himself against the wall across from her and studiously avoided looking at her, keeping his eyes on the ceiling of the crypt instead.

“Mr. Bagley?” Elizabeth asked.

Spike closed his eyes. He had learned to identify the tone of voice that the Slayer used when she was about to ask him something that would tug at his nonexistent heart strings.

Well, mostly nonexistent. A flicker of his former pathetic, poet self always seemed to rise out of nowhere when he was around this lovely creature.

“What is it Slayer?” he asked in his grouchiest voice.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she wondered aloud, toying with the strings that tied her cloak.

Spike shrugged his shoulders.

“The immediate one I suppose. Where I’m going to sleep and where I am going to get my next meal from,” he said deliberately. He was constantly making such remarks, trying to remind her exactly what he was. Maybe if he kept reminding her, she would stop stirring up these damned feelings inside him.

She chose to ignore him, as usual. “I have been thinking about it constantly as of late. My parents are questioning the seriousness of my relationship with Mr. Finn. They want to know if we are moving towards an agreement.”

Spike scoffed. Agreement. A nancy-boy term for what amounted to a marriage proposal.

“You think that’s wise, Slayer?” He said almost cruelly, reminding her of her lot in life.

“I have done things that are more ludicrous, Mr. Bagley,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath.

Spike sighed heavily, leaning his head back against the stone wall. “Why do you insist on making this truce as uncomfortable as possible?”

“I only speak what I feel.”

“To who, Elizabeth? Who do you confide in? A creature of the night. A Vampire.”

“And what of you Mr. Bagley?” Elizabeth challenged.

Spike looked at her confused. “Now, if you are going to say I talk as excessively as you, you’re daft.” Spike yelled.

“IT IS NOT WHAT YOU SAY!!” Elizabeth screamed in a voice louder than Spike had ever heard her use. She quickly lowered her eyes. “It is what you don’t say,” she finished in a calmer tone.

He held himself rigid as she looked up and into his eyes.

“It’s what I see when I look into your eyes. All the things you’re afraid to show anyone else. You reveal this to me in your silence.”

He tried to hold firm to his indifferent attitude, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“What do you see, Elizabeth?”

She rose gracefully to her feet and stood before him, touching his cheek as she smiled. “I see a man struggling not to forget what it feels like to be a man.” Elizabeth took his cold hand in hers, holding it while she traced his rough palm with a fingertip in a small, circular pattern.

“I see a man who longs to know what it feels to be touched by someone. To be held. To feel from someone the same passion that he hides deep inside.”

Spike tried to pull his hand away but she held it firmly. “It’s really not so difficult to read your heart, Mr. Bagley.”

Spike stared down at the top of her head, his expression inscrutable. “I don’t have a heart.”

Her sudden, fey smile captivated him. “Then you may share mine for the evening.” She moved to lie down on the stone sarcophagus, tugging him down beside her.

Feeling much like the docile man he was before he was turned, Spike stiffened. “Slayer, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I am tired, Mr. Bagley.” Elizabeth said. She shoved him none too gently until he lay on his side next to her. Using one of his arms for a pillow, she scooted back against him and pulled the other around her waist. A sigh of contentment escaped her. “The sound of the rain always makes me sleepy.”

Spike groaned his resignation. He knew he wouldn’t win this round. What bothered him more than anything was just how much he didn’t WANT to win.

“Stop calling me ‘Mr. Bagley’,” he said grumpily, arranging his heavy top-coat until it covered both of them.

Elizabeth smiled, closing her eyes. “Fine, I will stop calling you ‘Mr. Bagley’.”

Well, at least he could say he had won one argument with the Slayer.

“Sleep well…William.”

To this, all Spike could do was laugh.

He held her tightly, his nose buried in her fragrant hair. Her breathing evened out and she turned in her sleep to curl against him. Staring down into her peaceful face, he tried to not be overcome with emotion. Even in her sleep she clung to him, giving of herself without hesitation. Never in his entire existence had he ever felt so needed.

For those all-too-brief foolish moments, Spike allowed himself to dream. Maybe something could be done? Maybe, somehow, he could stay?

It was then that he felt the quiet thumping against his chest.

Elizabeth’s heartbeat. Slow and steady and screaming of life.

Something he no longer had. Something he would never have again.

Hours later, Elizabeth bolted up. She looked around frantically for Spike, but found herself alone. Completely and utterly alone.

***

Buffy sprang up from her bed feeling the same desperation that she had felt in her dream.
Her stomach churned as she realized that just like in her dream, Spike was gone. She was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

***

The Master’s minions scattered, snapping and whining as Spike walked into the lair. On his face was an expression of pure, unadulterated rage. The minions gasped, whispering amongst themselves at his appearance.

The Master stood up and smiled. “I know they called you William the Bloody, but don’t you think you’re taking that title a bit too far, Childe?”

Spike was drenched in blood from head to toe. Even his platinum hair was soaked with the viscous liquid.

He smirked. Not the most brilliant of plans, but effective. How else was he going to get Buffy’s scent off of him? But, more importantly, Spike wanted to send the Master a message.

“As you can probably tell, this blood belongs to a few of your blokes. I told you I work alone yet you persist in sending them after me. Mark me now; if you send anyone else out to tail me, each and every one will meet the same fate. The Slayer is mine!” Spike growled, turning and stalking from the room.

Drucilla rose from her seat, opening her mouth to speak to him.

Spike brushed by her, almost running down the long cavern; ducking and turning as he headed for the one place where he could have some solitude. He finally reached the underground pool and stopped, falling to his knees. His held up his bloody hands and stared at them blankly.

How poetic, he thought. Drenched in blood. He felt as if he was drenched in Buffy’s blood.

By masking her scent on him with the blood of those unfortunate minions, he had bought them a little more time. It was the bite that worried him now. The bite that he had so foolishly given to her. Eventually someone, probably Angel, would see it and know it was Spike’s mark. Had he doomed her, sealed her fate?

Spike rocked back and forth, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, God. Buffy, what have I done?”

Chapter 11

A Study in The Past

Buffy tried to keep her cool. However, her Watcher was not making it easy for her. He had practically stuck a gold star on her turtleneck for her vigorous studies. He had made the assumption that she was researching the Watcher’s journals to find everything she could about the Master and his line.

So far, she had learned the hierarchy of the Aurelius line. The Master sired Darla, who in turn sired Angelus. Angel had sired Drusilla, but only after driving her insane first. Drusilla was widely known for vampiric thralls, her skill only outdone by the legendary Dracula himself.

She turned the page, her heart pounded out of her chest. There before her were several sketches of the man who had shared her bed night before. Some of the drawings were of his human face, while others showed his menacing demon visage. It was the last one that got her; a sketch of him in Victorian garb, his spectacles resting on his nose with a shy smile playing on his lips.

Giles walked up behind her.

“Ah yes, Spike. William Ackert Bagley, aka…”

“William the Bloody,” Buffy whispered.

Giles looked down at her in mild surprise.

“How did you know?” he asked.

Thinking quickly, she pointed to the page. Giles looked down.

“Ah, yes. It is right there, isn’t it?”

Buffy turned the page, trying her best to look nonchalant. In reality, she wanted to snatch up the book and hide in a corner somewhere. She wanted to learn everything she could about him so that she could understand him. She had to.

“A colleague of mine did her Watcher’s thesis on him. There is more information on him than most vampires out there,” Giles said, showing her just how many pages there were on Spike.

“Why is that?” Buffy asked.

“Spike is different than most creatures out there. Not only is he deadly, Buffy, but he is also a predator.”

She blinked in confusion. “And this is different how? I thought all vampires were considered predators.”

Giles cleared his throat and took off his glasses, wiping them furiously. “Er—his favorite thing to hunt is Slayers.”

Buffy crossed her arms, waiting for the flustered Watcher to continue.

“You see, most vampires who have bested Slayers find them on happenstance. Meaning a Slayer is chosen in their immediate geographical area, or the Slayer themselves have gone looking for them.”

Buffy looked back down at the sketch of William, cautiously outlining the rugged features with a polished fingernail.

“And he is different because?”

“Spike has another moniker that isn’t listed in any of the books, Buffy.”

She rolled her shoulders, impatiently trying to shrug off her sudden tension. “For God’s sakes, Giles! Just spit it out.”

“They call him the ‘Slayer if Slayers’.”

Giles chose a book from the stack and paged through it quickly. He found what he was seeking and handed the volume to Buffy. She stared down at the two sketches. One was of a beautiful Oriental girl; the other of an African-American women.

“Besting a Slayer in battle is the ultimate mark of prestige among vampires. While many can boast of killing one, Spike is the only vampire known to have killed two. A Chinese Slayer during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900, and more recently, Nikki Wood. She was the Slayer from New York City in the late seventies.”

“Why?” Buffy asked.

“That seems to be the mystery; no one knows why. The only thing we have deduced is that he does it for the prestige. Most vampires fear the Slayer and go out of their way to avoid her. Spike, however, seems to be drawn to them. He seeks them out.”

“Giles, what if I came up against him? If we met in battle…” Buffy turned in her seat, staring at the page before her.

Giles looked down and sighed heavily.

“Buffy, while I have no doubt that one day you could be the Slayer that is able to best him; right now he is as powerful as they come. In fact; I fear that he will be summoned by the Master. If that is the case then you will have the battle of your life ahead of you.”

Buffy swallowed hard, barely feeling the comforting squeeze that Giles gave her shoulder as he left the room to make them some tea. She was pouring over the female Watcher’s Thesis when she heard someone behind her. Turning, she saw Willow come bouncing in.

“I heard you guys were doing my all time favorite thing. Research. Yay for me!” she chortled.

Buffy smiled at her friend and then stared at her in speculation, chewing anxiously on her bottom lip.

“Will, I need your help.”

Willow smiled. “What do you need?”

Casting her eyes down, Buffy busied herself with stacking the mass of books before her. She shot a look at where Giles was visible in the office window and turned quickly to face her friend.

“I need you to do a spell,” she whispered urgently.

Willow’s eyes got wide in disbelief. “Buffy, I’ve just started to dabble a bit. I mean; I am not any good at it,” she squeaked.

“Wills, it’s nothing major, I swear! I just…I need a little something that might reveal some things to me. All you have to do is help me find out; I can do the rest.” Buffy explained hastily.

“Reveal what?”

Buffy turned to the section on William the Bloody and pushed the book over in front of Willow.

“I…I dream about him,” she confessed.

“Like your dreams about the Master? Slayer dreams?” Willow asked.

Buffy shook her head and sighed. “No, not at all. Nothing at all like a Slayer dream.”

Willow stared at her friend, noting her tear filled eyes. “You’ve met him haven’t you?”

Buffy nodded slowly, leaning over to rest a gentle hand on the open book. “I know him, Willow. It feels like I have known him forever.”

Suddenly her eyes shot open wide and she jumped up from her chair. Willow watched in amazement as the blonde snatched up yet another book and whipped through the pages in search of something.

“What is it Buffy?”

“It’s a book of fallen slayers,” she said, rifling through the pages. “Here it is.”

Willow looked at the page and began to read. “Elizabeth James Finn. Slayer from 1886 to 1888. Daughter of Katherine and Elias James. Wife of Riley Finn. Wow, she was married?”

“Married?” Buffy parroted.

Why had she married Riley if her heart belonged to William? It made no sense to her.

“This is weird,” Willow commented.

Buffy glanced over at her distractedly. “What?”

“There’s no sketch of her. No picture. Not like the rest. See?” Willow said, turning the pages.

Just then Giles walked into the room. “See what?”

“There isn’t a picture of this Slayer,” Buffy pointed out.

Giles perched his glasses on the end of his nose and peered over her shoulder.

“Ah yes, Elizabeth Finn. Perhaps it’s because for a long time the council refused to acknowledge her. She was a bit of a rogue Slayer. Her Watcher, Sir James, was expelled from service shortly after her death,” Giles explained.

“Why?” Buffy asked quietly, fearing Giles’s answer.

“It was a most controversial case in its day. Apparently, a truce was struck by Elizabeth and Sir James before her death. When his diaries were turned in after his Slayer met her fate; it was discovered that two separate deals were made with a clan of vampires, thus violating the council directive. I don’t know the nature of these deals, because naturally after all this time the details are sketchy. Let’s get back to what you were researching before Buffy,” Giles suggested.

A million thoughts were running through her head. She knew all about the truce with Spike and his family. But a different arrangement made by Sir James? What was that about?

Buffy felt Willow squeeze her hand under the table.

“Um…Giles, I’ll in the back. I need to research something for Buffy. Nothing big, just something I think may help her out later.”

“Very good, Willow,” he said, nodding absently as he focused on the heavy tome before him. Evidently he found what he was looking for, because he pushed the book in front of Buffy with a triumphant smile.

“Now, let’s get back to Spike.”

Chapter 12

Reasons

Buffy walked home, completely exhausted from her crash course in William the Bloody 101. Her head reeled with everything she had discovered about her dark lover. The Watcher’s diaries made him sound cruel; an evil, vile monster. Who was she trying to kid? He was a vampire; he was all those things and more. But still, in spite of everything she had learned today, when she looked into his eyes… cruel, vile and evil were the last words that came to mind.

There was no doubt that Spike was a paradox.

There was the matter of Drusilla. Although the name itself made Buffy’s stomach do a flip-flop, she could remember William’s devotion to his sire from her dreams. That might be explained away by the sire/childe bond, but what of his feelings for Elizabeth? That he’d harbored feelings for the Slayer in spite of the monumental differences between their worlds was patently obvious. After all, he had mourned her for over a century. If that wasn’t love, what was?

How could he love so much, yet have no soul?

Willow could help her unlock the mystery, and while Buffy knew it was wrong to put her best friend in such an awkward position, she needed answers. Answers that she knew Spike would not give her. Not right now. She didn’t know if it was because of his mistrust of her, or himself.

Her footsteps slowed as she entered the graveyard. Feeling the familiar tingle on the back of her neck that screamed ‘vampire’, she sighed with resignation. Not just any vampire either, but hers. Should she call him ‘hers’? Tears stung the back of her nose as she turned to face him.

His eyes were solemn as he walked slowly towards her.

“I see you’ve been with your watcher. Found out a few things about me that ain’t so pretty, eh?”

Buffy nodded. “I don’t know what to think of you.”

“What did your Watcher say?”

“To him you’re Spike. William the Bloody. Slayer of Slayers. In short; a cold blooded killer.”

Spike took a step closer to her. “I’m glad you finally got that figured out. That’s what the last hundred plus years has done to me. The vampire she knew…” he drew in a sharp, unnecessary breath and closed his eyes. “The vampire YOU knew was nothing but a weak fledgling. I was being groomed and fashioned into what I am now.”

He vamped and snarled at her, causing Buffy to instinctively fall back into a defensive stance.

“Let’s dance then, little girl,” he smiled wickedly.

The fight was just that; a dance of passions and strength, their moves and counter-moves a choreography of deadly precision and painful accuracy. Neither held back; all their angst and confusion were expressed in their deadly exchange.

Spike kicked Buffy into an old out-building. She shook it off and scrambled to her feet, unaware of the tears streaking her face as she whirled in anticipation of his next attack.

He leaped into the air and tackled her. They rolled across the damp grass until Spike was lying on top of her; his hard hands pinning her wrists to the ground while his legs effectively trapped hers. His demon demanded he finish the dance and he growled in triumph as his amber eyes settled on her fluttering jugular. He darted forward, fully prepared to take his third Slayer, when he heard it. He froze just inches from the artery, his demon face melting away.

“Just do it,” she whispered. “End my torment like you ended theirs.”

Spike jumped up, his roar of anguish ripping through the humid night air as he flung himself away from her.

Buffy lay there, her body shaking with silent sobs as tears trickled silvery paths down her face.

“Why did you do it?”

He refused to look at her. “You wouldn’t understand.” he whispered.

“Try me.”

“I’m not exactly known to be a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain. So I make a lot of mistakes, a lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years, and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of: You.”

Buffy sat up, swiping at her cheeks angrily. “I don’t understand what that has to do with the slayers you killed.”

Spike let out a demented laugh. “Are you daft woman? It has everything to do with them,” he said turning to walk away.

She sprang to her feet and rushed to step in front of him. “Why?” she demanded.

“Buffy, let it go. Stake me, or let me walk away. Either way, I’m not getting into this with you.”

“WHY?”

He grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her roughly. “BECAUSE I WAS WRONG!” he screamed. “It had nothing to do with you being the soddin’ Slayer. It was YOU.”

She tried to touch him but he flung her away angrily.

“DON’T.”

Spike backed off, leaning wearily against the side of the building her had thrown her into.

Buffy walked over to find him staring unseeingly out at the darkness.

“I don’t cry. After I was turned, I stopped feeling the need to. It was such a sweet release.” He slid down the wall and sat, resting his head back and closing his eyes.

She edged closer and dropped to her knees beside him.

“Then Angelus told me you were dead. We had made it to Paris, and I cried most of the night while I stared at that bloody tower. I’ve never cried agains until last night, when I saw you standing there, alive and beautiful. I couldn’t believe it.”

He sighed raggedly. “I killed them, Buffy, because they weren’t you. They weren’t even close to being you. I wanted them to be. The Chinese girl was all about protecting her town; her people. The other bint was all about keeping her calling. Both of them came nothing close to you. It was laughable. It made me bloody furious. How dare they call themselves Slayers?”

Spike looked into her eyes. With a shaky hand he touched her cheek.

“They couldn’t touch you. You hated your calling, but you did it with your whole heart. You never knew exactly why you had to, but you gave yourself to it. And in spite of it you kept your dreams,” he chuckled bitterly. “You’re bloody dreams. We used to sit night after night talking about them. It’s how I…”

“I remember.” Buffy whispered. “I mean I dreamt about it. You always seemed so irritated but I knew you loved it. Almost as much as I…”

Now it was Buffy’s turned to stop just short of her confession.

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Aren’t we a pair of idiots?”

“I know what you’ve done. I know what I’m supposed to think of you, but I can’t. I never could. I don’t know what is happening to me, but I know how I feel about you,” Buffy said, taking his hand and bringing it to her face.

Spike palmed her cheek, reveling in the feel of her warm skin against the chill of his own. He could almost feel her warmth seeping through him.

“I believe in you, Spike,” she whispered.

Spike shut his eyes tightly. “When you remember what happened, you won’t. You’ll never forgive me. I could tell you now, but I’m being selfish. I want to be with you, to feel close to you until the rest comes out and...”

Buffy grabbed his face and kissed him passionately.

Spike hesitated for only a moment before responded to her loving onslaught.

“Buffy, I need you to know something,” he gasped.

Buffy laid her finger to his lips, shushing him gently as she kissed his forehead.

“Not yet. I know. Believe me, I know. I feel the same way, but I don’t want you to regret anything again. Not yet. You’ve tortured yourself for over a hundred years now. I won’t let you do it again. Whatever I remember, I know I’ll forgive you; even if you don’t forgive yourself. Until then it can wait.”

Spike took Buffy in his arms. He was supposed to kill her. End his torment. But he couldn’t now. He was too far gone.

Chapter 13

Life Imitates Art

Buffy laid in her bed listening to the sounds of the night. She had to be up in less than four hours. She had gotten used to being sleep deprived. Earlier that night, she had even joked to Spike.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Spike had stopped walking and scowled at her.

“Sorry that was insensitive of me.”

She remembered the look in his eyes; a mixture of fear, pain, and regret. For the briefest second, she had known the pain he felt when he had found out she had died over a century ago.

A thorough study of the Book of Fallen Slayers had quickly dispelled her theory that Slayers might somehow be reincarnated. Judging by the sketches and photographs, each Slayer was unique in appearance. Their cultures and backgrounds all varied. There was, however, one constant. Very few of them lived to reach the ripe age of eighteen. Elizabeth James had been no different. She had met her fate just two days shy of her eighteenth birthday.

So why had this happened? How did she know instinctively the girl in the dreams was her? Why was it that all practicality flew out the window when a certain William the Bloody was concerned?

Buffy closed her eyes and curled tightly around her pillow, trying to still the heartbeat that raced every time she thought of the platinum-haired vampire. He might look entirely different than the man in her dreams, but the eyes were the same. Deep, indigo pools that had always possessed the ability to se into her very soul.

She found herself drifting off into slumber; a faint melody tinkling in her ears as the world went dark…

Lyceum Theater
Covent Garden, London England 1887

Elizabeth sat in the balcony seat of a private box in the theater waiting for the ballet to start. She smiled at her companion. As excited as she was that she was finally able to attend a ballet she could not help but feel a bit disappointed in the company.

Mr. Riley Finn smiled at her brightly. She had been gracious to the people she had met in the lobby, obviously making a good impression on the upper echelon of London. She was just the right amount of mystery and class that made her the perfect match for someone in his position. Thankfully her parents seemed to agree.

Elizabeth leaned over the ledge, studying the crowd below her. At moments like this she wondered how it felt to be like them; to be so oblivious to the evil surrounding them on a nightly basis. She envied them their freedom to go where they wanted and do what they pleased.

“Mr. Finn, do you ever think about traveling?” Elizabeth asked.

“Of course.” He replied.

From a moment Elizabeth felt hopeful.

Riley smiled at her. “However, I feel a person must earn their rewards. Travel should be something to be savored after a long and distinguished career. I plan to travel quite a bit after the end of my commission.”

She nodded politely, biting the inside of her cheek. At the end of his commission? That could be anywhere from twenty to thirty years from now. She did not have that kind of time.

“Are you having a good time, Miss James?” He asked.

Elizabeth nodded distractedly. “I have never been to a ballet before. This one originated in Paris forty-five years ago.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Sadly, Miss James, I am not a patron of the ballet. However, I am glad to be here with you. Perhaps you can educate me on the arts?” he hinted.

She smiled and tried her best not to burst into tears. Was this to be her life?

The theater darkened when someone came in and whispered in Riley’s ear.

“Miss James, I am afraid I am being called away for a moment. Please forgive me; I shall not be long.”

Elizabeth barely acknowledged him; she was too taken by the music and the costumes of the performance in front of her. She was so mesmerized she almost missed the tingling sensation creeping down her spine. She was reaching for the stake hidden in her skirts when a familiar hand brushed her bare arm.

“Relax, pet; it’s just me.”

She looked around to see William standing behind her. “William! You must leave. Mr. Finn will be back any moment,” she hissed.

He smirked. “He’s on a wild goose chase at the moment, courtesy of your Watcher. I thought you might want to know we got a lead on the fog. Meet me afterwards,” he explained.

Elizabeth nodded slowly, her eyes drifting to the stage.

Spike smiled to himself. He knew there was no way she could concentrate on what he was trying to tell her. He knew that dreamy look in her eye. Instead of insisting she focus, or lecturing her the way he had heard her Watcher do; he took the seat behind her.

Startled, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He lifted an eyebrow and pointed at the stage. Turning forward again, she focused on the performance in front of her, lost in the fantasy world the dancers were creating.

“It’s called Giselle,” he murmured. “Do you know much about it?”

She shook her head, her soft curls brushing his hand where it rested against the back of her chair.

“I know it opened in Paris. That’s what drew me to it; why I accepted the invitation,” Elizabeth confessed.

Spike chuckled at her ingenious response. He leaned closer, his lips almost touching her ear.

“Well you are right about that one, pet; it did open in Paris. The story itself is quite tragic.”
“Tell me,” she demanded.

His finger drew lazy patterns on the arm that was left bare by her beautiful gown. She closed her eyes, comparing his light touch to Mr. Finn’s heavy-handed mauling. Shaking it off, she returned her eyes to the ballet.

“Giselle, a weak hearted girl, falls for Albrecht, a noble, who begins masquerading as a peasant after he falls in love with her,” he told her. “However Albrecht, is already engaged to someone else; a woman named Bathilde. “Hilarion, who is in love with Giselle, exposes Albrecht’s lies. The day Giselle and Albrecht get engaged. Hilarion brings Bathilde to the village and Albrecht must confessed his duplicity to Giselle. Giselle being weak hearted, ends up dying of a broken heart.” Spike whispered.

Elizabeth turned her eyes suspiciously bright as she looked at him. “It sounds very tragic.”

“Giselle’s mother, Berthe, has a dream that Giselle will become a Wili; a spirit of a jilted maiden who dies before her wedding night. The Wilis emerge between midnight and dawn to vengefully trap any man who enters their domain by forcing him to dance to his death.”

“Dance to death,” she whispered. Spike loved to use dance references when it came to fighting.

Seeing her distraction, he playfully flicked Elizabeth’s shoulder and pointed to the stage.

“Pay attention, luv,” he ordered.

She smiled. “I’m sorry. Pray continue.”

Spike pulled her chair to the side a bit and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Feeling completely powerless, she leaned back into him as he continued to whisper in her ear.

“Hilarion, standing in front of Giselle’s tomb, is discovered by Queen Myrta, who is the leader of the Wilis. As her mother dreamed, Giselle is to be initiated a Wili.”

Closing his eyes, he enjoying the feeling of Elizabeth in his arms. For a moment, he could pretend that he was still alive and that Elizabeth was his. That they were a normal couple out for an evening.

Elizabeth nuzzled closer to him. “More,” she begged.

“Albrecht, feeling guilty, visits Giselle's grave. He sees a vision of Giselle and follows it into the forest. Hilarion is in the forest and is danced to death by the Wilis, who are ordered to do so by Myrta. She then discovers Albrecht and demands that he share the same fate as Hilarion, but for some reason he does not die.”

“Why?”

“Giselle’s love for him. Despite all he had done, despite how badly he had hurt and deceived her; she still loved him and forgave him.”

Elizabeth turned her head the slightest bit, her mouth scant inches from Spike’s. Was she the only one that saw the correlation between the story being acted out on the stage? Somehow, she doubted it. The raw emotion in his voice as he spoke that last part told her that he felt it as much as she did. Their lips hovered, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Suddenly, Spike jerked away and got to his feet.

“In the end he still killed her. Her love for him destroyed her. She became a Wili and they parted ways,” he said harshly.

Elizabeth looked down, hoping he couldn’t see her tears in the dim glow of the stage lamps.

“I’ll see you later, Slayer.”

“Wait!” Elizabeth cried, catching hold of his sleeve. When he turned back to her she pointed at the stage. “That. What he is doing with her?” she asked, desperate to keep him there for a bit longer. The moment was so magical she didn’t want it to end.

“It’s called a Pas de Deux,” he said. “It seems like he isn’t doing anything, but he is. He is helping her to be more graceful, to dance so much better than she normally would.”

Her eyes were sober when they met his. “I know the feeling. Sometimes people think they are doing nothing, sometimes they even think that being around in more detrimental than productive. They do not realize that sometimes they help just by being there. They allow people to soar to higher than they ever have before,” she whispered.

Spike looked at her, shocked by the depth of her perception. A shy smile broke out across his face. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her hand and kissed it lightly.

Buffy’s eyes flew open. She hugged herself tightly, cursing herself for waking up. There was more; so much more. It seemed she and Spike had reached some sort of an understanding. What happened to change all that? Buffy snuggled deeper into her bed, closing her eyes as she tried to will herself back to the past. It never worked, but still she had to try.

Outside her window a lone figure stood exhaling a puff of smoke. He closed his eyes. He felt it. She was close. She would remember soon enough

tbc

Chapter 14

Reality Bites

Spike walked through the series of caves that meandered beneath Sunnydale. He hated being under the constant, watchful eye of the Master and his annoying little troops. There were questions he urgently need answers to and no way of getting them. Here, he had no allies, no minions. At least if he were in Europe he would have his own contacts and various creatures that owed him favors. Being here made him feel too much like the young fledgling he’d once been, tied down to the traditions of family and bloodlines.

He stopped his journey for a moment, leaning against one of the rocks. He tried to calm himself. Drusilla would know; she always did.

He heard her coming toward him; his dark princess, the reason for his undead existence. She seemed well enough tonight. He felt her cold hand touch his cheek and fought the urge to flinch.

“My poor Spike, so lost like before.”

“Not now, Dru,” he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes.

Drusilla whimpered. “We‘ve had such a lovely time, have we not, William?”

Spike lit a cigarette and forced himself to smile. “Yeah, we did.”

“It’s all coming to a close. Can you see it?” Dru asked, her eyes glazing over as she reached out to some unseen object in front of her.

“Do you forgive me, William?” she sing-songed.

Spike shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing to forgive, luv.”

She smiled at him and slapped his arm playfully. “Such a naughty boy. Thought I could not see what was in that head of yours, swirling around and around. It was always there.”

“What’s that?”

“You love, just not wisely.”

Spike smirked bitterly. “Yeah, well, you made it pretty clear who you belong to.”

Dru pouted, wagging her finger at him. “Bad Willy, it’s not nice to lie to Mommy.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed away from the wall. “Get bent, Dru.”

“Still punishing Mommy for not letting the doggy go. Never understood. I did what I had to. If I let the doggy go, he would have gotten so lost. Just like now. Doggy never knew when it was time to come home.”

Notting Hill, London 1887

Spike walked back into the hotel suite he, Angelus, Drusilla and Darla were sharing. He walked over to Drusilla touching her face as she slept. He stared at her for a moment trying to will himself to feel for her what he had since the moment she had sunk her fangs into him. The thrall, the rapture. The way she seemed to consume his every thought. He wanted to feel all that again.

Instead all he could see was Elizabeth-- her smile so full of life and light. The way she looked at him when they had those moments like tonight. He had to watch himself. It was too was to pretend with her, to act as if he weren’t what he was.

He turned to the window and sat on the ledge. He tried to tell himself Elizabeth would have never cared for him as the nancy boy ponce he used to be; William Ackert Bagley. She would have rejected him the same way Cecily Adams had, telling him he was beneath her.

But he knew deep down she wouldn’t have. Here in his thoughts, away from her, he could be honest with himself. If she had known him before, they might have fallen in love. He would have taken her to Paris. Walked around The Lourve for hours talking about the works of art in front of them. Strolled down the Champs Elysées buying all her heart desired. She wouldn’t have to carry a Franc that represented a dream she thought would never come to play. He would have made them come true for her, Slayer or not.

Spike pulled out the Franc, fingering it for a moment before dropping it back in his pocket.

Drusilla stirred and he walked over to her. When he smiled down at her, she turned away, ignoring him.

“What’s this about, princess?” he asked her.

“She’s been muttering non-stop since you left.”

Spike turned and saw Darla standing at the doorway.

“Where’s Angelus?” he asked.

“Hunting.” Darla answered. “Good thing too. She keeps babbling things about you.”

“Like what?” Spike asked.

“You and the Slayer. She says she sees you dancing in the sunlight with her. That the Slayer will make you burn. Something about shiny trinkets and towers.”

Spike chuckled, trying to hide his fear.

“Think it’s the fog combined with her already not so intact mind. Sometimes I think she does it to get Angelus’ attention.” Darla spat out. “It’s a good thing you’re here. You take care of her. You are invaluable to Angelus.”

“I doubt that, Darla. No one is invaluable to Angelus.”

“You are. You keep Dru happy, so it keeps her out of his hair. You’re family Spike. Our family is complete with you. Angelus may not say it but he feels it. He won’t let anything or anyone take away what we have here.”

Darla looked at Spike, making sure that her meaning was clear. Spike knew Darla did not believe anything Drusilla ever said, but hey both knew Angelus seemed to always find some truth in her ramblings. If he thought for a moment that the truce would interfere with their living arrangements, the Slayer would be dead.

Spike rolled his eyes.

“You think I am daft enough to get involved with a Slayer? I mean, she is a pretty little bird. She probably tastes like heaven,” he quipped.

Darla laughed. “Down Boy. Perhaps after the truce, we can play. We are evil after all.”

Spike smiled at his great grand-sire, acting as if Darla’s concerns were the funniest thing he had ever heard.

Drusilla stirred again at the sound of their laughter. “Spike?” she questioned.

“I’m here Princess.”

Drusilla smiled up at him. “Mommy is being silly again. Dreamed my Spike went dancing off into the light with that little girl. Should have known you would be here. You love the Princess too much to ever leave her side,” Dru said, touching his face.

“Promise me you’ll kill her,” she whispered. “Daddy says we’ll feast on her blood.”

Spike gulped hard. “Angelus is going to kill her?” he questioned her gently.

Dru smiled.

Spike took a step back, spinning away from her.

No, he couldn’t let it happen. He had to do something, and quick. Angelus was not one to be trifled with.

Spike took a deep breath pulling back from his memories. He heard Dru purr happily.

“Don’t worry, Spike. Daddy will make it all better.”

Spike’s head shot up.

He heard more footsteps approaching.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows. Eyes cold and menacing, a cocky smile played across his face.

“Aren’t you going to say hello, William?”

Spike looked into his eyes. He could see it there. The death and destruction in them. The look he used to admire and long for. The one that spoke of unspeakable torture and agony.

There at that moment everything changed. Again he felt the past collide into the present. Trying to remain as calm as possible he looked up at the creature in front of him.

“Welcome back, Angelus.”

Chapter 15

The Spin Doctor

Spike finished his cigarette and quickly lit another one. He eyed Angelus carefully, trying to come to terms with what might have occurred.

The Master had done it. That creaky old fart had lifted the curse, bringing the Scourge of Europe back into existence. In any other scenario, Spike would have relished the idea. With Angelus back and Darla gone, he would finally be freed from his duty to Drusilla, because Angelus would no doubt want his favorite Childe at his side.

Angelus grinned over at Drusilla and took her in his arms. She smiled, gazing up at her beloved Daddy. They kissed passionately.

At one time such a sight would have torn Spike’s heart out. He would have been enraged and fighting with Angelus. Now, he could care less but still had to pretend that he did, because if Angelus had even the slightest suspicion of the true path of his affections…

Acting on instinct, Spike lunged at Angelus, pinning him to the wall. He was already angry, he might as well use it to his advantage.

“Think you could just roll back around and take what’s mine?” Spike sneered.

Angelus laughed, pushing Spike away.

“Just having a little taste. After all, William, we both know who she really belongs to. You’ve just been a glorified babysitter for the past hundred years or so.”

Spike pulled away from Angelus. He turned away, using all his ancient bitterness against his grandsire to his advantage. If it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t have had to do it. Maybe she wouldn’t have died.

When he would have lunged at Angelus once more, Drusilla stepped between them. Spike stopped short, his yellow eyes shifting back to brilliant blue as he silently acknowledged what she was doing. She had chosen Angelus over him once more.

He regarded his companion for the last hundred or so plus years, the determination in his expression telling her that this was the last time. He would no longer be her little patsy. Sharing no tie but that of Sire/Childe bond; Spike at that moment freed himself.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. William no need to get upset. We are family after all.” Angelus commented.

Spike took a step back. “It doesn’t matter. So how did you get rid of your little party favor?” Spike asked.

Angelus laughed. “Our dear grandsire. Apparently, all I needed was to feel a moment of true happiness.”

“Really and what shiny happy moment assisted you out of your perpetual broodiness?”

Angelus shrugged his shoulders as he gathered Drusilla in his arms.

“Don’t quite know. Besides I am here just in time don’t you think?” Angelus said.

Spike took another hit of his cigarette.

“For what?”

“The Slayer. I haven’t tasted me a Slayer for quite a while.” Angelus mused.

Spike felt his undead heart constrict. Again he realized Angelus was back the cruelest being he had ever encountered. The thing that taught Spike how to be the most efficient killer to ever walk the earth. The Master of cruel and evil head games. He thought back to what he was told in regards to how Drusilla was turned. Angelus had killed her whole family, slowly driven her mad, and then killed and turned her.

He knew that Angelus was not in it for the quick kill. He would play with Buffy for a while. Like a mouse being batted around by a cat. It was what he feared he would do to her one hundred years ago. The reason he did what he had done.

Spike smirked, feeling a bit of relief.

“Well, let me tell you, mate, this one tastes delicious.”

Angelus eyed Spike suspiciously. “You’ve bitten her?”

Spike shrugged his shoulders. “Had me a little taste, yeah.”

“And you didn’t take her?” Angelus asked.

“Great Gran’s little imbeciles got in the way. Don’t think that will happen again, though.”

Angelus sniffed the air and smelt the distinct scent of vampire blood lingering over Spike.

“Still as deadly as ever, I see.”

Spike chuckled, hiding his anxiety. “So, now that we’ve had ourselves a nice little family reunion; what next? Shall we head back to Europe? I also hear that Hawaii is nice this time of year.”

Angelus laughed. “Why would I want to leave here now? The Slayer is here and from what Great- Gran has said, he is planning quite a show.”

Spike cocked his eyebrow up.

“Really, now. Well you know me. I love a good show.”

Angelus walked over to Spike, grasping his shoulder in a show of kinship.

“It’s good to have you watching my back again, William. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some things I need to discuss with the Master.” He tipped Drusilla’s chin smiling down at her. “I have to make sure my dark princess is well enough to play.”

Drusilla eyes shone up at Angelus with such adoration, Spike felt as if he would be sick. Dark princess, his pet name for her. He was back, all right, already trying to take everything Spike had. Silently, Spike vowed this time it would be different. He would make sure of it.

Angelus took off down the tunnel, leaving Dru to follow him. Before she could move Spike grabbed her by her elbow, causing a weakened Drusilla to flinch.

“No. I know you know a bit more than you are letting on,” Spike sneered. “I’m warning you, Dru; don’t fuck with me, and don’t go thinking your daddy can protect you from me. If you cross me, I swear I will redefine pain and suffering for you,” he growled, squeezing her arm before letting her go.

“Besides.” Spike whispered. “You, owe me, don’t you think, pet? A hundred years we spent together; it has to mean something.”

Drusilla looked into his eyes. The same soft loving eyes that drew her to him in that cold dark London alley. She touched his face as Spike closed his eyes.

“Yes William. I do owe you a treat. I promise to not tell Daddy your secret. But remember William, all little boys need to learn how to come home when they go out to play.”

And with that, Drusilla sashayed away, leaving Spike prey to his thoughts.
<>

Across town Willow set a few candles around Buffy as she sat on the floor of her bedroom. She fumbled nervously through the dusty book hunting for something. Finally she sighed both in relief and fear.

“I..um..I think I found it.”

Buffy nodded lighting the candles around her.

“All right here goes nothing.”

Chapter 16

A Heavy Quill

Buffy looked around the room. Candles were the only illumination as flames roared in the fireplace across from the desk. She looked around at the various books that were strewn about, cluttering every available open space. Weapons lay discarded on the floor and a few stakes were haphazardly tossed on the carpet. From the looks of it, Willow’s revealing spell had worked. She no longer was in her bedroom, but in somewhere else. Back where it had all it began. She heard the sound of a quill scratching against paper. An older man was hunched over the desk, the feather in his hand moving rapidly across the page of a leather bound book. Suddenly, he stopped; his shoulders curling forward as he began to sob. Dropping his writing implement, he covered his face and allowed his grief to consume him

Buffy stood over him. She wondered if he could feel his presence, but it didn’t seem likely. He continued to cry, his gut-wrenching moans shattering the quiet of the library. She peered over his shoulder and stared curiously at the words he had written.

From The Diary of Sir James
Watcher to the Slayer, Elizabeth James Finn
London 1889

Perhaps this was the way to should have been. Here I sit, writing my last entry as a Watcher. The Council has demanded my resignation, something I knew would happen once the truth of my deceits was revealed to them. I was trained and breed by the best and most elite. Many will wonder why I have done the many things that I have done.

As Watchers, we are trained to think of our Slayer as nothing more than a tool. It has been foretold...Into each generation a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a Chosen One. One born with the strength and skill to fight the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. We live by those words, if one should fall, another will be called. One stronger and better. That is the hope we live by.

Of course there are rules and regulations, for without order, there would be chaos. The guidelines we must follow are set in stone and any violation of them stands as the most reprehensible of sins.

Why, then, did I do it?

I made a deal with the devil; not once but twice. The first I could justify. The Beast was running rampant through London, hiding behind his mystical fog and forcing people to live in fear of a fictitious killer known as Jack the Ripper. Sometimes, sacrifices had to be made in order to win a war. I had to stop playing the role of a General and live like one. Hence, the first of my transgressions.

As for the other…

That had nothing to do with Council directive or for the good of the world. I thought so freely and carelessly with my heart when I agreed to that pact. I justified it in my head, saying it was the best thing that could have happened. I was saving the life of my young charge. The Watcher’s Council would have sooner seen her fall and have another take her place, but I refused. I went against everything I was taught for the sake of one girl.

Just as he did….

Buffy looked down with a frown. She knew he must have meant William. This was where he had stopped, the thought that had reduced him to tears. She watched as Sir James slowly regained his formidable control and sighed heavily. Dipping his quill, he resumed his diligent recording of his confession.

We buried Elizabeth three days ago. It seemed a sacrilege that such a vibrantly beautiful woman should be interred in the cold ground. I kept my nocturnal vigil for three nights, ensuring that she would not rise or that some creature of the darkness would not come and desecrate her final resting place. It was at the very least I could do. Her young husband; a stoic man of rigid military values, showed not a whit of emotion. Ever the soul of propriety, Mr. Finn shed not a single tear over the demise of his bride. The scandal had been a delicious bit of news among members of their social circle. The young bride of a high-ranking member of the Queen’s Guard, found dead on the street dressed like the commonest harlot.

I felt it better to move her than to let them find her where she been slain.

I remember coming upon her still form in the cemetery. I refused to look at the mortal wound that had taken her out of this world, choosing to focus instead on her beautiful face. All the light, all of the essence that had been purely Elizabeth, was gone forever. She looked pale—ethereal, a strangely peaceful smile on her dirt-smeared face. A smile that said she knew a wonderful secret. I did try to revive her, but it was far too late. Elizabeth James Finn, the Vampire Slayer, had left this earth. As she did so, another was called. She would now be retired to the Book of Fallen Slayers.

It is my greatest wish that the next will be endowed with the courage and instincts of their predecessor. I leave my service now not only because I am forced to do so, but because I do not believe that is possible.

Elizabeth was blessed with something most Slayer’s lack; an innate ability to look beyond the black and white and see the grey. She had something must Slayer’s lacked….heart.

For all her rash and impulsive behavior, she truly was one of a kind. Strong and resourceful, but lead first and foremost by her heart. She was right about him. Everything she had believed. It was that which made me believe in what I had to do, and now…

Suddenly, Sir James stopped writing and flung his quill down.

“I knew you would be here,” He said in a flat and emotionless voice.

Buffy stiffened in surprise, certain that he was addressing her. Sir James stood up and turned to look at a point just over her shoulder.

“Have you come to do me in as you promised you would?”

There was a sudden burst of tinglies on the nape of her neck and she turned with a gasp. William was crouched on the sill of the open window, his eyes cold and deadly. His face shifted as he stepped down from his perch, a feral growl rumbling from his throat as he closed in on his prey. Accepting his fate, Sir James stood his ground as the enraged vampire approached him.

“No!!” Buffy screamed. Had William killed Sir James? Was that his secret?

Spike grabbed the Watcher by the shoulders and tossed him aside with an expression of bitter contempt. He pushed past all the books and papers that littered the desk to pluck up the object that had caught his attention.

It was a photograph of Elizabeth, posed in what looked to be her wedding dress.

Face shifting back to human; he traced a finger over the image.

Sir James resumed his seat, his eyes never leaving the vampire. He busied himself with pouring drinks for the two of them.

“Was she…happy?”

“Do you want me to lie to you, William, or do you want the truth?” Sir James asked cryptically.

“I want the truth,” he said.

“We buried her three days ago, but all the life went out of her last year. I destroyed her by allowing it to happen. I might as well have put the stake in her myself.”

William shook his head. “No, it was my plan. I was her undoing. I should have never...”

Sir James took the picture and looked at it. “She never told him. Her husband never knew her calling.”

Spike looked at him a bit confused. “I thought you encouraged the match because in time he could be informed.”

Sir James nodded. “I did. Elizabeth refused.”

“I am sure she simply wanted to protect him,” Spike muttered.

Sir James let out a bitter laugh. “Protect him? William, their marriage was in name only. They were the perfect society couple. They were fond of each other, of course, but a marriage of the heart? No, she regarded him as a dear friend, nothing more.”

“Than why did she do it? Why marry him?”

Sir James glared at him. “We both know why.”

Spike looked down. “And why didn’t she tell him?”

“She said it was because there were some things that were only meant to be shared with those who understood. I think it was because she felt that this part of her life was sacred.”

“Because of her Calling?”

“No, not because of her Calling.” Sir James pulled something out of the top drawer of the desk. “I found this on her.”

Spike took the small slip of paper and read it. He began to shake, understanding now why she hadn’t told her husband. Spike looked down at Sir James’s journal.

“They are treating her like an outcast now aren’t they?” he demanded.

Sir James nodded.

Spike picked up the Watcher’s Journal and read his carefully scribed words. He fought back tears that he had promised he would never shed again. With a violent wrenching motion, he tore out the pages Sir James had just written.

“Then none of them deserve to know her,” he hissed angrily.

Sir James eyed William carefully. He took the torn pages out of the vampires hand and walked over to the fire place. Grabbing the poker, he stirred up a good blaze and threw the scraps of paper into the heart of the flames.

“Again we agree.”

<>

Buffy followed Spike down the streets of London and through a cemetary until he stopped in front of a grave.

Her grave.

Elizabeth James Finn
Beloved Daughter and Wife.
1870-1889

Spike pulled out the slip of paper again, his mind replaying Sir James words once more.

“I think it was because she felt that this part of her life was sacred.”

She never told Riley because that part of her world was his. It belonged to them. It was sacred to her because in this part of her world she belonged to him. Just like she had said all those months ago.

Spike looked down at the paper.

Buffy listened as he read the words aloud..

“When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,”

Spike sighed, his vision blurring.

“Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow;
It felt like the warning”

Buffy took a step closer to him, feeling the sorrow radiating off his cold form

“Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken
And share in its shame.”

Spike knelt down at her grave, hugging his knees tightly.

As Buffy reached out to comfort him she found herself being pulled back across the black sky and away from the grieving vampire.

Chapter 17

Distractions

Buffy shut the door behind Willow, her expression thoughtful as she made her way back up to her room.

Apparently, just as Willow had finished her incantation, the flames in the candles had all shot up and Buffy had crumpled to the ground. When she’d opened her eyes, Willow was kneeling over her with a panicked expression on her face.

“You were only out for a sec,” Willow explained.

Buffy nodded, staggering a bit as she got to her feet and stepped out of the circle. “It seemed longer.”

After the young red headed witch made sure her friend was all right, she demanded information about her adventure into her psyche. As promised, Buffy told her word for one what had occurred.

“So you really ARE Elizabeth James? I mean-- it’s not some weird Slayer side effect?”

“No, I’m her or she was me…or whatever.” Buffy had groaned, running trembling fingers through her hair.

After they talked for a bit longer, Buffy walked Willow to the door.

“I promise I’ll work on the spell. Maybe I can get it to give you a bit more time. If that’s what you want, I mean.” The red-head had offered nervously.

When she arrived at her door, a strange tingly sensation crept up her neck. Buffy silently cursed herself. All her stakes were in her room. Looking around for some type of weapon, she reached for a vase then kicked open her door ready to fight whatever creature was there.

Spike stood in the center of the circle of candles.

“Looks like you’ve been busy tonight, pet,” he remarked, indicating the burnt-out candles and the little piles of sand that were scattered about.

Buffy looked down, nervously placing the vase on her desk. “I wanted some answers,” she muttered.

“And did you find them?” His voice was so faint she could barely hear him.

“If you’re asking me if I found out the big tragic secret you won’t tell me, then no. I only ended up with more questions and very few answers,” she sighed. “Look, is this a social call or are you just here to drive me insane with more innuendos about my foggy past?”

Spike stepped out of the circle and looked back at Buffy. “I came to ask you if you have ever invited your… friend into your home.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow at him. If you mean Angel…no, I haven’t.”

“Don’t ever, Buffy.” He finally turned to face her, his blue eyes intent. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s not the guy you knew before. He’s changed. He’ll kill you.”

She crossed her arms and stared him down. “Agreed, but on one condition. You tell me this big ugly you’re keeping from me.”

Spike groaned. “You’re relentless. Do you always get your way?”

“My Mother says I have a gift for negotiating.”

Spike smiled seductively. “That isn’t your only gift.”

“Spike, stop trying to distract me. It’s not going to work.” Her voice dropped to a pleading whisper. “What happened between us before? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Buffy the rate you are going you’ll know soon enough.” He said glancing down at the circle of candles. “Not one for patience, are you?”

“Never have been. But you know that better than I do. Wow, that‘s actually the truth isn‘t it?”

Spike chuckled, finally relaxing a bit. He tilted his head as he studied her. In spite of all the angst and turmoil of the night’s events, the sight of her made his undead heart swell. He took a step closer to her until he had her pinned against the wall.

“Please tell me,” Buffy whispered, running her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

His hand found the small on her back as he stared down at her mouth. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips lightly against hers. “Told you before; I am being selfish. You’ll know soon enough. When you do, you‘ll put a stake in me, and rightfully so. But for now….”

“I said quit trying to distract me. I can‘t be resolve-y girl when you look at me like that,” she protested weakly, making a half-hearted attempt to push him away.

Spike reached out, his hand curving around the side of her face.

“What can I say baby? I‘m a bad, rude man,” he said with a smirk as he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips.

“Spike… Buffy said weakly, clutching at his forearms as his playful demeanor drifted away

She wanted to him make him tell her everything, but her body betrayed her by responding to his touch. The hand that cupped her face tilted her head to the side and he kissed her more deeply this time. He pulled back, running the pad of his thumb gently over her bottom lip while she gazed up at him dazedly. He moved to her throat and Buffy closed her eyes.

“Just tell me to stop, pet, and I will.” Spike peppered her neck with a few light kisses then nipped at her ear lobe. “Give me the word and I’ll stop.” When she made no demur, he kissed her so passionately it seemed as if he was trying to devour her mouth.

He was breathing as hard as she was when he broke the kiss, causing Buffy to whimper.

“There are lots of things I want to tell you. Things I never could. Things I stopped myself from saying before…” Spike whispered. Misery cast a brief shadow over his eyes, and his inner turmoil was obvious. “You have to understand that I’ve kept these things buried for over a hundred years, luv.”

“Don’t you think I’m worthy of hearing them? Is it that you don’t trust me to keep your secrets?” She placed her hand over his on her face and squeezed it reassuringly. “You can trust me, you know. With everything.”

“Buffy, I…”

“William, please...”

That was all it took. If she had called him Spike instead of William, he might have been able to resist her pleas, but hearing that name with the same soft inflection she had used so many years before was his downfall. That same voice with that same pleading accent had haunted him for so long that he was powerless against its allure. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep, unnecessary breath and allowed the words to spill forth.

“You’re perfect you know that? Everything about you drives me crazy. Your face,” Spike said, stroking her cheek and brushing the softest of kisses over her forehead.

“Your eyes.” A kiss for each closed eyelid before wandering down the slope of her nose to find and worship the delectable curves of her trembling mouth. “Your lips.”

Buffy was completely mesmerized as his lips followed the path that his words created. The faint quiver of emotion in his voice tugged at the heart that already belonged irrevocably to him.

He kissed her passionately, desperate to convey an aeon of want and longing in one kiss as he pressed her back against the wall.

“Your heart,” he breathed as his hands took over the journey his lips had begun, fingers barely making contact with her skin as they slid down her chest, reveling in the thrum of her racing heartbeat.

Putting the slightest bit of distance between them, he lowered his head and rested it on her shoulder, feeling every bit like the shy poet he once was.

“No one in my entire life or death has ever made me feel the way you make me feel.” Spike whispered.

Buffy reached up, her fingers gentle as she lifted his head until they were eye to eye. At that moment, she saw HIM. William. The man that was hidden so artfully beneath the brash and cocky swagger of his Spike persona. Shy, passionate, poetic, and vulnerable.

“Don’t hide from me, please. Tell me how I make you feel,” she begged.

In a flash he was pressed up against her again, this time lavishing her neck with kisses interspersed with tiny, ravishing nibbles.

“You make me feel like…” He paused for a moment to lick his mark on her neck, making her whimper with delight.

“Like what?” she sighed, losing herself in the sensation of his lips on her flesh.

He stopped abruptly, lifting his head and staring into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“You make me feel like I’m alive again,” he said simply.

This time it was Buffy that grabbed him, seizing him by the lapels of his coat and smashing her lips to his as she kissed him soundly. Far from being unnerved by her ferocity, Spike responded eagerly, matching every bit of her passion and intensity.

Suddenly they heard the door down stairs open.

“Buffy, it‘s Mom.”

Spike took a step back, panting as he watched as her eyes dart left to right trying to figure out what she would do. He smirked.

“Tell her you’ll be down in a tick.”

“I’ll be down in a ti..er a minute Mom,” she called out, her brain still misfiring a bit.

Spike back away toward her window, his gaze never leaving her flushed face. He straddled the ledge and prepared to jump out.

“WAIT!” Buffy hissed in a strained whisper.

Spike turned and saw the panic in her eyes.

He saw the panic in her expressive eyes. “Don’t worry, luv. I’ll see you soon,” he said, not even trying to contain his glee. Now, even after all the time that had passed, he could still see how much he wanted him. How much she needed him.

“When?” she asked, trying to curb what she was sure was a pathetic tone in her voice.

“Tomorrow night.”

The smile she bestowed upon him seemed to brighten his entire world. Unable to resist, Spike grabbed her hand and pulled her in for one final kiss, not letting her go until they both heard the rapid approach of footsteps coming up the stairs.

He winked at her and then climbed out into the tree. In a flash, he was gone.

The door opened behind her..

“Buffy is someone in here with you? I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone,” her mother said.

Buffy closed the window, biting back her smile.

“I was just talking to myself.”

Chapter 18

Implications

Author's Note: Taken from What's My Line Part Two

Spike watched the scene in front of him. It all seemed so surreal. Standing there was Dru and her beloved Daddy; bound together as the Master and his minions surrounded them.

The Master raised a cross, holding it upside down. It seemed strange to see one of his own kind hold the religious object without it scorching the flesh, but he knew from reading the outlines of the ritual that the cross was one designed to do dark magic.

"Eligor. I name thee. Bringer of war, poisoners, pariahs, grand obscenity. Eligor, wretched master of decay, bring your black medicine."

Angelus held onto his favorite Childe, smiling down at her.

"Come. Restore your most impious, murderous child."

Spike watched as the Master held the downward-pointed tip of the cross, yanking down a large blade embedded within.

"From the blood of the sire she is risen."

Angelus took Drusilla's hand and held it aloft within his.

"From the blood of the sire, she shall rise again."

The Master stabbed the blade through their clasped hands. Angelus screamed with glee, welcoming the pain. A brilliant pink light radiated out from their hands.

They both jerked and hissed, reveling in the pain of the ritual as the bright light flowed out of Angelus and into his Childe.

Spike lit a cigarette. Rituals could be the most tedious things. "Right, then! Now we just let them come to a simmering boil, and remove to a low flame."

The Master laughed wickedly. "It is so nice to be surrounded by family."

The two figures collapsed and the minions carried them off so they could rest.

"How long you figure those two will be in La-La land?" Spike asked.

"A few days I believe. By that time she should be restored. Just in time," the Master mused.

"For what?"

"Oh, my dear Childe, I would not want to ruin the surprise," he said, grinning at Spike.

"Right. Well, think I'll toddle off then. Find me someone to eat." Spike hopped off the stone slab he was sitting on and killed his cigarette. Secretly he was relieved. He needed to get way. To not be around them. Clear his head and think of a way to get himself out of the incredible mess heâ€™d gotten himself into.

A little while later he found himself in one of the many fine cemeteries that Sunnydale had to offer, sitting on a stone bench and staring out at the sky.

How did everything get so bollixed, so fast? He hated being kept in the dark, but he had to play the role of the lackey. He hated that even more. Gone were the days of William the lowly fledging. He was the feared Slayer of Slayers; one of the cruelest beings to walk the face of the earth for over one hundred years, yet here he was nothing but the low man on the totem pole.

Spike took in a deep, unnecessary breath. Who was he kidding? It was more than that. He was mad, terrified. He feared more than anything that when Buffy sussed out the truth she would hate him. That angered him more than anything.

He smiled to himself as he picked up the sound of small feet cutting throught the damp grass. He stood up casually, acting completely unaware that anyone was coming up behind him. He walked slowly, idly whistling an old Ramones tune. Making his way past a large marble crypt, he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Buffy frowned and stopped short with a heavy sigh. She didn't intend to spy, but he had looked so breathtaking as he sat there in the moonlight. The pensive expression on his face made her feel almost wistful as she wondered what had him so preoccupied. When he got up and began to walk away, she should have called out to him but the words didn't come. Perhaps it was her Slayer instincts kicking in, but instead of making her presence known she crept quietly behind him until he disappeared behind a crypt.

"Spike?" she called out quietly.

"William?" Her voice a bit louder.

She frowned, sucking in a deep breath as she readied herself to below his name. Suddenly, a hand smashed over her mouth and she was flung into the wall of the crypt. She bounced back from the force of the blow and felt arms slip like steel bands around her waist.

Her defensive movements were a blur as she drove the point of her elbow back and then bent sharply, throwing her attacker over her head and onto the ground. In the blink of an eye she had straddled him and pressed the point of her stake to his heart. To her surprise, her would be victim lay on the ground, laughing hysterically.

"William!" she huffed, cuffing him lightly upside the head.

"Now, pet, don't get your knickers in a twist. I was just playin' at ya." Spike said.

Buffy stood up, pouting as she crossed her arms protectively in front of her.

That pout would be the death of him. Spike coughed to mask another burst of laughter.

"Got to say Luv. I'm impressed."

"Why?" she asked.

"Either your reflexes are better, or you actually listen to your Watcher these days."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is when you talk like you know something about me that I don't?"

"You're the Slayer, you should be used to it," Spike teased.

"Stop it. It's not funny. I feel like someone hit the rewind button and I can't see anything because the screen is going too fast," she sulked. "It's not fair. You won't tell me anything."

He didn't attempt to disguise his mirth this time. She was simply too adorable, everything about her. She stood there with her arms crossed as she pushed out her bottom lip. Hoping to avert an all-out tantrum, he grinned and tickled her under the chin before leaping with catlike grace to the top of the crypt.

"Oh, you're such a show-off," she called up to him, unable to stop her eyes from crawling avidly over every powerful inch of him.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Why don't you come up here and try to push me off?"

Buffy wasn't so easily dissuaded from her petulance. "Don't wanna."

"No?" Spike sat down on the roofs edge and held out his hand. "How about you come up here and kiss me senseless instead?"

Mad she might be, but she wasn't stupid. She reached up and allowed him to capture her hand, grinning as he effortlessly pulled her up to sit beside him on the rooftop. Wasting no time, she immediately crawled over to straddle his lap and claim her prize.

They kissed, a lazy exchange of lips and tongues, before she settled herself comfortably against him, rubbing her face on his shoulder.

"Won't you tell me something?" she asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the moment.

Spike sighed he kissed the top of her head. "All right, pet."

"Really?" Buffy asked hopefully.

He smiled at her, unable to hide the hint of sadness.

"Really."

Chelsea Physic Garden

Chelsea, London

1888

"William?" Elizabeth called out.

There was no answer to her call. Slowly, she walked through the garden. She had no idea why she had agreed to meet him here. What if someone caught her trespassing? Why had she risked exposure and possible humiliation to meet with him here? The Garden had been closed to patrons nearly six hours ago. After scaling a wall and making sure the caretaker had retired for the evening, here she stood.

"William?" She whispered a bit louder.

Groaning a bit, she stamped her foot. Drawing in a large breath of air, she opened her mouth to scream.

Suddenly she felt a hand over her mouth.

"Cut loose with that scream and we're done for," Spike hissed in her ear.

Immediately Elizabeth relaxed in his arms.

He spun her around, slightly amused that he had snuck up on the tiny Slayer.

"Try not to look so satisfied that you caught me off guard," Elizabeth said, sounding more than a bit miffed at herself.

Spike bit back his smile.

"Now, why have you lured me here?" Elizabeth said crossing her arms.

"Need you be my look-out. This place is filled with all kinds of goodies. Roots and herbs. Angelus sent me out here to nick a few things to help Dru rest a bit. She's getting worse," Spike said sadly.

Elizabeth looked down. On one hand she felt a bit sorry for the poor insane women. Yet another part of her envied the brunette vampiress to the point of irrational thought. Perhaps if she was not about and William was not bound to her...

Elizabeth hurriedly stopped her train of thought. Therein lay madness, she cautioned herself.

"Is this part of the conditions of the truce, William?" Due to her inner turmoil, her voice was much sharper than usual.

"The truce said we would help you with the fog and you would help us with Drusilla. So yes, luv. This is very much a part of said truce," William confirmed coldly.

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be snappish with you. I'm just... it's been a frightfully busy week. Just because that cursed fog has decided to lie low for a few days doesn't mean the rest of the demon populace has chosen to do the same."

Meaning more vampires to slay as well. Spike flinched for a moment before turning away to regain his composure. "You're the one who insists on flapping your gob," he flung out with a sneer.

She threw up her hands in defeat. There was no placating him when he was in this mood. She had discovered that about him right away.

"Fine we must hurry then. I have my duties to uphold as well as Mr. Finn coming to call tomorrow morning."

He clenched his jaw and swept past her in a huff. "Then let's get to work."

They found a likely spot for all they needed and Elizabeth said nothing more as she helped Spike pull the last root out of the ground. While he tied them up in a crude bundle, she stretched out on the ground, looking up at the stars. A constellation caught her eye and she stared at it for a long while.

"It's Andromeda," Spike said without looking up from his task. "She was the daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia thought she and her daughter were more beautiful than anything on earth, more beautiful even than Poseidon's nymphs. She taunted the God of the Seas until he became angry."

Spike stood up wiping down his pants and hoisting the sack over his shoulder. "Poseidon decided as her mother's punishment, Andromeda was to be chained to a rock and sacrificed to a dreadful sea monster."

Elizabeth glanced up at Spike, smiling a bit. "I gather there is a hero of some sorts."

"Of course, pet. By the name of Perseus. He happened by, fresh from slaying the Gorgon, Medusa."

"How convenient," she teased as she allowed him to pull her to her feet..

"Well this Perseus bloke took one look at Andromeda's beauty and decided that he must save her, but only after her parents agreed to let him marry her. "

"Did he save her?"

Spike nodded his eyes intent as he gazed down into her beautiful face.

"They had a love so great that the Gods put their images in the heavens."

"Do you think there is a love that great, William?" Elizabeth asked, looking up to the sky again. "Can two people love each other so much that they can defy the laws of man and float up into the heavens?"

She closed her eyes, her lips trembling a bit. When Spike reached out to touch her shoulder, she flinched as if his touch caused her physical pain.

"I - I really must away," she said, never looking him in the eyes.

Spike stood there watching her go, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

Spike held Buffy tightly.

"We did that a lot didn't we? Talked in circles around each other," Buffy whispered.

Spike nodded slowly. "I guess we were both afraid."

Buffy nudged him playfully. "I didn't seem so afraid."

Spike chuckled. "No, luv. You were right Bloody relentless. It was me. I should have told you how I felt."

Buffy bent her head and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "You can tell me now."

Spike smiled up at her. He opened his mouth to say something when he saw it from the corner of his eyes.

He quickly hauled Buffy to her feet and ran over to the right side of the rooftop, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the starlit cemetery.

"William what is it?" Buffy asked nervously. Now she felt it too; a strange, almost electrical charge in the air.

"Oh God No!"

Buffy's eyes followed Spike's and she gave a horrified gasp. There, in the distance, a green mist rolled toward them. Right behind it was a thick, rolling fog that swept over the cemetery and enveloped everything it touched...

Chapter 19

The Fog

Buffy peered over Spike's shoulder, looking out at the light green shroud slowly overtaking the cemetery. It didn't take a genius to figure out that whatever this mysterious fog was; it had nothing to do with nature's elements.

Her skin suddenly felt cold as ice. As the eerie mist came toward them, Buffy could hear a low hissing in the air. She looked up at Spike, who staring down the fog with a mixture of defiance and fear.

Suddenly, Buffy began to shake. A strange wave of paralyzing fear swept over her. She reached out to him, her fingers trembling.

"Spike what it is?" she asked her eyes widening in fear and confusion. "What's happening to me?"

Spike grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. "Buffy, run home. Now. Run as fast as you can. Don't look back, don't listen to anything you may hear. If you find yourself in the fog, stop running. Drop to your knees and cover your ears."

Buffy gulped hard, her body tensing as she prepared to run.

Spike situated himself between her and the fog. It seemed to stop for a moment, hovering, as if it was looking at them.

"NOW!! RUN!!!" he screamed.

Buffy leapt from the roof of the crypt and tore off at a dead run through the tombstones.

Spike stood in front of the fog daring it to overtake him. It rapidly overtook him and swirled around for a moment, then shot away with lightening speed. He blinked in shock and then realized which direction it was heading. It was making a beeline straight at Buffy!

She ran as fast as she could, using all her Slayer speed and agility. From behind her came that same low hissing sound. When she looked down at her feet and saw the mist nipping at her heels, she doubled her efforts to outrun it.

Running after her, Spike felt a nightmarish sense of de ja vu. He could only watch helplessly as the fog coiled up one of Buffy's legs like a snake before wrapping itself around her waist. In a blink of an eye, Buffy was engulfed in the deadly green mist.

Buffy felt something twining around her leg. At first she tried to ignore it, but soon it felt as if her entire leg was encased in an icy prison. Her steps faltered, her legs impeded by whatever had managed to get hold of her. Still trying in vain to run, she looked down as the fog rolled around one leg like a rope. Another wisp of it wrapped around her other leg, mimicking it's twin. Soon both ghostly wisps met around her torso and snaked its way up her chest and around her neck, feeling as if it was going to choke the life out of her.

Remembering Spike's instructions, she dropped to her knees and tried to bring her hands to her ears. Both of her arms seemed bound at the wrist by foggy ropes similar to the ones that crept up her legs. Using all her strength, Buffy tried to pull her hands up only to find the grip around them tightening even further.

She tried again, growling in frustration, opening her mouth slightly as the fog crept into it. Suddenly, she felt as if she couldn't breath. It was stealing her breath. She gasped and coughed, but the fog just kept getting thicker. The low hissing became a roar in her ears.

"Elizabeth," a voice said with a hiss.

"He's gone. He's dead," the voice taunted.

Buffy closed her eyes, focusing all her senses on the single task of trying to draw oxygen into her starving lungs.

"Elizabethhhhh," the voice hissed again, dragging out the last syllable of the name. "What do you fear?"

She closed her eyes, trying to will the voice away.

"I know your fear. He's gone, Elizabethhhhhhhh."

Buffy looked up and saw Spike in the distance. Something grabbed him from behind. A look of shock crossed his face and he turned into dust.

"Is this what you fear?"

She gasped and reached out.

"SPIKE!!!! NO!!!!!!!"

She felt her tears trail down her face, her hands bracing herself against the pavement. Suddenly, she saw a splash of crimson hit her hand. She reached up and touched the tears rolling down her face and realized it was blood.

"NO!" she screamed again.

"Elizabeth, it's time," the voice sneered.

She lay there, gasping and shaking, feeling completely helpless.

"WILLIAM!!" All the air rushed out of her lungs as the fog shot down her throat. Buffy was about to give up when she felt something yank at her arm.

Spike had watched the whole scene unfold as the deadly cloud overtook her. He knew he didn't have much time. He stood outside the fog, trying to step his way through. The walls could not be breached. Only one hand seemed to penetrate Buffy's misted prison.

When she disappeared within, he concentrated, closing his eyes. He could not show fear. If he showed fear, it would sense it and they would both be lost. The low hiss tickled his ears. He reached out, knowing if he could just feel a bit of her, if he could grab on that somehow he could pull her out.

Every time he reached in he came up empty. Trying his best to hide his panic he reached within again coming up again with nothing.

There was not much time left and he knew it.

Suddenly he heard her from below.

"WILLIAM!"

He mentally kicked himself. He had forgotten that he had told her to drop to her knees. He closed his eyes and slammed down, throwing his upper body against the fog. As he bent down he felt her shoulder right beneath his finger tips. Spike pushed his other arm into the fog ignoring the icy cold sensation and got a firm hold of Buffy.

With a roar he pulled her out.

Buffy gasped for air, all the color drained from her tiny body. Immediately she went slack in his arms.

Spike scooped her up and ran towards her house. The fog tickled his legs, threatening to repeat its performance.

To his relief, he saw the porch of Buffy's house. Knowing there was not much time; Spike threw Buffy onto the porch and then launched himself onto it.

The fog stopped hissing. As he watched, it began to roll backwards, retreating into the night. Letting out an unneeded sigh of relief, Spike sat up.

That was close too close.

The sound of Buffy coughing and gasping for breath snapped him out of his daze. Scrambling over to her, he scooped her up in his arms.

"It's all right, luv. You're okay."

Slowly the color returned to the Slayer's face and then coursed through the rest of her body. She touched the tears on her face.

"It was blood," she choked out.

Spike kissed her fingers trying to control his own emotions. "It was just an illusion. One designed to prey on your fear," he explained. He rose to his feet, reaching down for Buffy.

"Can you stand?"

Buffy nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Why did it stop coming?"

"We made it to your home. It can't cross, can't touch you if you are somewhere that you feel safe. A home is that for humans-- their Haven, their safety."

Buffy fished her keys out of her pocket and hurried to unlock the door.

Spike stood there nervously for a moment, looking out toward the street. "Right then, I'll see you later."

"Oh, no you don't." Buffy took his hand in hers and dragged him inside with her. After closing the door, she wrapped her arms around Spike as tight as she could, trying to be mindful of her Slayer strength.

"I need you to stay with me. Please?" she whispered.

"Buffy what about your Mum?" In spite of his protests, his arms tightened around her.

"She's away again. It'll be all right, I promise. Please, William," she pleaded.

Spike chuckled to himself. All it ever took was a please and he was putty in her hands.

Buffy lead him up the stairs and into her room. She drew the curtains and placed a blanket over the drapes ensuring that no sunlight would creep around them. Then she walked over to the door and locked it.

"I don't have to get up early tomorrow since it's Saturday. I usually sleep in," she explained.

Spike shrugged off his coat and threw it over a chair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "First thing in the morning you need to call your Watcher. Tell him to look up London, 1888. Jack The Ripper."

"Spike, what's going on?"

Spike stared into her eyes. "You know what's going on. You know what that was," he said somberly.

Buffy nodded slowly and whispered, "The Beast."

Chapter Twenty

The Announcement

Was life just a huge, cosmic farce designed to make creatures feel that everything looped back in a circle? Since his arrival in Sunnydale, every single thing that had agonized Spike during his undead existence seemed greet him with a cruel ‘how-do-ya-do’.

First Drusilla-- his dark princess. The creature that never stopped surprising him for over a hundred years, making it clear to him yet again that she was never his. He would have gladly lived with the illusion but that was shattered by of course Angelus.

Then, Angelus-- his Yoda. His grand-sire. The one responsible for making him the monster he was today. He had hoped to be rid of him. After he got his shiny little soul, he had disappeared freeing Spike from everything that had caused him so much grief and pain. But now, here he was. Granted, he was better than the broody bastard that he had seen from a distance, but still he was there.

And then there was Buffy. Beautiful, sweet, courageous Buffy. Even thinking about her at this moment made his undead heart race. It was cruel enough that she looked exactly like his Elizabeth, but to have her memories? Her feelings? Spike deduced all of this had to be some sort of karmic backlash, if he actually believed in that type of thing.

However, this moment was the cherry on top of the bloody proverbial sundae…

He looked down from his hiding spot, perched in a tree outside the school gym. His blue eyes flickered gold for a moment as he caught site of Buffy. She was wearing a beautiful white dress. Other students danced around her as she talked with her friends. For reasons only known to him, the sight before him made him want to kill.

At that moment she looked just like he remembered. Even the dress she wore seemed to be a throwback to that time and place. He saw her smile at something the dark-haired whelp said. Not a real smile, one that bore an eerie resemblance to the fake one she had plastered on to hide her sorrows so many years ago. Caught in yet another cruel moment between the present and the past, their eyes locked as she looked up and saw him staring down at her. The music, the dancing, the laughter caused a strange overlapping sensation inside Spike’s head. He closed his eyes while the onslaught of memories overtook him….

London 1888

Elizabeth James walked around the room on her father’s arm. She bowed and curtsied to all the right people at all the right moments. She smiled when it was appropriate, spoke only when spoken to, and joined conversations only when politely asked to do so.

She was the very picture of a proper Victorian miss raised by noble middle class parents with just enough standing to catapult their daughter into the next social tier. It meant everything to Katherine and Elias James that their daughter should marry well. She was their only child and they had spent much of their own fortune on schooling and other luxuries that would ensure that their Elizabeth would find a good match.

Elizabeth knew she was willful, and that her spirit worried her parents. No man wanted a wife that spoke out of turn or talked too much of wistful dreams and illusions. Yet somehow, in spite of her faults, she had managed to catch the attention of Mr. Riley Finn.

When Riley and his parents arrived at Elizabeth’s house that night, her parents acted as if the Queen herself had graced their presence.

Elizabeth suddenly wished for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Her reasons for conceding to the night’s events suddenly became unclear to her. All she could see before her was a future filled with tiresome dinner parties, polite conversations with people who could care less about her, and moments of appropriate intimacy with him…Riley Finn.

Riley crossed the room smiling brightly at Elizabeth. He took her hand in his, looked around the room with an air of regality. With great flourish, he bent down and kissed Elizabeth hand.

The two mothers sighed in pleasure as the fathers looked on proudly. The guests talked amongst themselves, giving their approval to the display of affection.

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. Something she had to do often these days. She felt nothing when Riley’s lips touched her hand; no jolt of fire, no delicious tingling sensation, no passion or terrifying desire. Nothing, nothing at all like she felt when...

She quickly stopped herself from even thinking it. She smiled at Riley and curtsied gracefully.

“Ms. James, I believe tonight will be most pleasant,” Riley Finn said.

She accepted his arm as he walked her toward some of his father’s colleagues.

A little while later, after the men had retired to the drawing room for their after dinner drinks, Elizabeth was finally granted a few moments peace. She quickly slipped out into the garden and ran to the small maze that had been her ‘special’ place since she was a child. Her corset suddenly felt as if it was strangling the life out of her and hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she sank to her knees, trying to silence the pitiful sobs heaving from her chest.

She felt it, the chill against her neck. Her Slayer abilities in full effect. She didn’t panic because she didn’t have a stake, she didn’t care when she spotted the yellow eyes stalking toward her, and she wasn’t frightened when she heard the low rumbling growl. She stood up and quickly straightened herself before she turned and faced her would be assailant.

“Hello, William.” She said brushing down her skirt and wiping away her tears, doing her best not to look like she was in despair.

Spike stopped stalking towards her. He was angry, so angry that he had walked from her Watcher’s home to the James’s residence in full demon visage. Lucky for him it was dark and he moved so fast that no one could see his face. After talking to her Watcher and agreeing to deliver his message, Spike was told of tonight’s events. The very thought was preposterous. Then he remembered her distant attitude at the gardens, her odd questions and the way she flew from him. Suddenly it all made sense to him.

Hiding his feelings from Elizabeth’s Watcher, he had raced through the night. He waited outside, watching as the guests arrived with pomp and circumstance. Then he saw the man himself. Riley Finn. The small amount of control he had managed to conjure quickly dwindled away at the site of the arrogant snob walking into Elizabeth’s parlor.

He snorted to himself, trying to calm his heated demon. Riley Finn was a buffoon. Did Sir James really think a man like that could be trusted with such a hard truth? That he could support Elizabeth as she went out night after night slaying demons? Could he even begin to understand her burden? Would he be there when a fight got too nasty or when she simply needed to escape being the Slayer for a few moments and fall into his arms? Could he give her the peace she so desperately craved at the end of the night’s turmoil? Could she talk to him about her dreams? Share her poetry?

Spike let out a howl of indignation. This was no concern of his. The truce would be over soon and then he would be free of the annoying blonde Slayer. He was here to deliver a message. That was it. End of story.

However, things rarely went as Spike planned. He had slipped into the back yard to climb the tree that Elizabeth climbed night after night to reach her bedroom, intending to leave her a note and then go find some thing to rip apart with his bare hands. As he passed the parlor window he saw Riley Finn take Elizabeth’s hand and kiss it while he smiled proudly. His overly bright smile skimmed the room, showing the guests his intentions. Displaying Elizabeth as though she were a piece of property. Another wave of rage coursed through him. How dare Riley Finn make such a bold assumption? Then Sir James’s words came rushing back to Spike. The reality of the situation had sunk in as he had watched Elizabeth take Riley’s arm and allowed herself to be led away.

“What do you want, William?” Elizabeth asked trying to sound as distant as possible.

Spike’s demon visage slid away. He refused to show the girl that she could incite such rage in him.

“Your Watcher says not to go out tonight. Your parents will no doubt be keeping a close eye on you. Besides, you’re are bound to be fatigued.”

He waited for Elizabeth to scoff, to tell him that she would be the judge of her physical condition. He waited for the fire in her voice as she openly defied her Watcher. Instead, there was nothing, just a nod and quiet acceptance.

“Yes, Sir James is right. I should retire early.”

That was it! Spike had enough. He rushed Elizabeth grabbing her by her shoulders.

“What the hell has gotten into you, Elizabeth?” he growled, his eyes flickering yellow.

Elizabeth slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Spike never wanted to know what it felt like to be staked. Never came close. However, the look in her eyes nearly made him feel like someone had plunged the wooden object that all creatures of his kind feared into his chest. He choked back his rage as the sorrow in Elizabeth’s eyes pierced his soul.

He had seen this look before. His demon relished it. The look in a human’s eyes as they felt their life being slowly taken away. The realization that their life was about to end and everything they dreamed of, everything they had hoped for, slowly drifted away. It never failed to satisfy his demon to be the cause of that expression.

Looking down at Elizabeth, there was no glee. She wasn’t at death’s threshold. Yet. Still, the expression on her face, the look in her eyes, mirrored that of his victims. In hers eyes he saw the death of her dreams.

His hands gripped her shoulders then released them, only to repeat the action three or four times. Unknowingly he lowered his head to her shoulder trying to recover from the emotions he felt at that moment.

Elizabeth found herself whimpering, wanting to throw her arms around him. But she knew she couldn’t. It was something she had accepted.

“For we two look two ways, and cannot shine.” Elizabeth whispered.

Spike pulled back searching her eyes.

“Dreams are for children, William. Or for fools. I cannot afford to be a fool. Not when the lives of so many rest on my shoulders. My family is counting on me to make solid, sensible choices. Sir James needs me to be diligent. The world needs me to protect it. I finally realize that there is no room for what I want.”

Spike looked at her confused. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Elizabeth scoffed bitterly.

“Elizabeth...”

“DON’T!”

Spike stood there shocked at her vehemence.

“Don’t look at me the way you do. Don’t use that tone of voice you get only when you speak to me. Don’t move me anymore!” She found herself weeping again and struggled to recover.

“I don’t mean to hurt you.” Spike whispered.

“I can never have what I dream of, William. So, I will settle for what life is giving me. I am happy to get the few scraps that I do. Better that than the nothingness I knew before I met…”

Spike knew he was being slapped in the face with his own words. Yet for some reason he didn’t care. All he cared about was the pain that the girl in his arms was in.

“ELIZABETH!!!” They both heard.

Elizabeth broke free of Spike’s hold and spun away.

Spike hid in the shadows, unable to walk away. He perched on the tree and watched the party within. After a short while, Riley Finn called the room’s attention.

“May I be so bold to take a moment of your time to announce some most exciting news? Earlier this week I made a request to Mr. James for the right to share my intent with his daughter, Miss Elizabeth. She has done me the honor of consenting to be my wife.”

The room erupted in applause as Riley bowed, still wearing that smug, self-satisfied smile that made Spike long to rip his throat out. Spike watched as Elizabeth painted on an artificial expression of happiness, but all the while her eyes strayed to the windows, finding Spike unerringly as he perched in the tree. She knew he was there all along. Their eyes locked for a long moment, both conveying the pain of feeling trapped, isolated, alone…

A young girls happy squeal filled the air. Both looked in her direction for a moment.

When Buffy looked back up, Spike was no longer there. Buffy ran out of the gym afraid he had left, or worse, wandered out into the night. She had hinted that she wanted him to meet her here at her school dance, not bold enough to ask him to accompany her. Afraid he would think she was childish. Now, however after seeing the look in his eyes all she wanted to do was be with him.

She slammed against the bar of the door, running out into the dark hallways. She looked around trying to decide which direction to run in.

“Looking for someone Pet?” She heard in the darkness.

Spike emerged from the shadows, smiling at her.

Buffy ran into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

His hands hovered in the air for a moment. He shook his head and chuckled as he felt Buffy bury her head in his chest. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

Perhaps everything did come full circle. Perhaps when they did, some things could be different

Chapter Twenty-one

Somewhere Only We Know

Spike looked down at the girl in his arms. A song trickled out of the gym filling the air all around them.

Buffy bit her lip, trying to suppress the question burning on the tip of her tongue.

Seeing her internal struggle, Spike bent down and whispered in her ear, “Dance with me, pet.”

Her eyes shone with happiness as she stared up into his eyes and began to sway with him to the beat of the melancholy tune.

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete

Spike kissed the top of Buffy’s head and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his girl in his arms.

Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

“My Mom thinks I am spending the night at Willow’s,” Buffy whispered.

So if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
So why don't we go

This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?

He nodded, knowing what she wanted. He kissed her deeply, conveying his want and desire. Without a word, he led her down the hall and away from her school dance. Once outside, both of them held their breath when they saw a light fog in the distance. They were relieved to see that it was a natural fog and not the deadly mystical one.

Spike checked them into a modest motel. Once they were in the room, he walked over to the windows and opened them slightly. Buffy came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him.

“We beat it last time. We can do it again,” she said confidently.

He hung his head down in shame for a moment. “Right,” he choked out. He closed the curtains and turned in her arms.

“Last night, I almost lost you again,” he said touching her cheek.

“But you didn’t. You saved me.”

Buffy rose up on her toes and kissed his lips lightly.

Spike pulled her tightly to him deepening their kiss. “Are you sure you’re all right, luv?” he asked.

"I can’t explain what happened. It just felt like everything was closing in on me.” Buffy said.

He held her tighter as she tilted her head and kissed him again. He could feel her body’s want as she pressed herself to him and moaned softly.

Buffy touched his face, guiding him backwards to sit on the bed. She knelt in front of him, holding his face in her hands.

“When I saw you outside tonight, you had this look on your face. It made me so sad,” she confessed, running her fingers lightly over his features.

Spike smiled a small, bitter smile. “Regret, luv. I am not good at dealing with that. I regret so much that happened before. I wish I could just take it all back, sometimes. Make it different.”

Buffy touched his scar over his eyebrow and kissed it lightly. Spike couldn’t help but see the irony of the moment. He was the creature that had roamed the earth for over a century, yet sitting here in the arms of this tiny, little woman, he felt like the child.

“No regrets, William. Not tonight. I don’t want you to feel anything else but what I feel tonight. I just want you to feel me. Please…” she begged, pressing her lips to his.

Her pleading broke down the wall around Spike’s emotions. He responded to her kiss hungrily, a small moan escaping his throat. He lay back, pulling her down on top of him while his lips moved to worship at the smooth column of her throat.

“You are so perfect,” he whispered adoringly.

Clothing seemed to melt away and bodies rubbed yearningly, skin to skin. Buffy wrapped her hands around his neck, clinging almost desperately as he shifted and rolled so that his lower body lay alongside hers. He continued to kiss her as his hands wandered down and smoothed over her thigh. He seemed completely enthralled by the beauty of her naked body and the softness of her skin.

Buffy drew in a ragged breath as his mouth moved from her neck and blazed a trail of cold fire down to her breasts. She felt drunk with pleasure as he worshipped the delicate pink nipples and plump flesh. Her fingers sifted through his hair, massaging his head as he continued to lavish his attention on her breasts.

“You’re so beautiful. So sexy,” Spike whispered. His hands swept down to caress her hips and she stirred restlessly against him, a mixture of fear and excitement swirling in her eyes.

He kissed her as his hand came to rest on the center of her being. Buffy began to breathe heavier and arch into his touch. In one movement, he touched her, groaning as he felt her wetness and heat coat his fingers.

“My God, you’re so….” Spike couldn’t continue. Mere words could never do justice to all that he felt when he was with her like this, so he used his hands in an attempt to express himself.

His thumb found her nub and he toyed with her, swallowing her soft moans as he continued to ravage her mouth with his. Her hips began to move to the rhythm of his hand as her excitement built unbearably within.

Buffy began to whimper. She had never felt anything this intense before. She felt as if she was going to go crazy. Spike saw the fear in her eyes.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her ear. “I’m here. Just hold onto me.”

Her head tossed from side to side as she tried to fight the rising intensity in her body. Spike held her tighter.

“What do I do?” Buffy whimpered, lost in the feeling. “Please tell me what to do.”

“Just let go, baby. It will be okay. Just let it go,” Spike coaxed. He continued his relentless ministrations, feeling her entire body begin to tense. He thought his body would join hers in release. He had never felt such a response to his touch.

“Spike! Oh God!!!” Buffy screamed. She let go of Spike’s neck as her body racked with pleasurable sobs.

Spike looked at Buffy, his eyes full of lust. He had never felt so over come by a woman's release. It was so pure and passionate. He covered her face with kisses.

“God, you’re incredible.”

He gently took her legs and pushed them up until her body was at the perfect angle to receive him. With excruciating control, Spike sheathed himself inside her knowing her body was still growing accustomed to him. After a few moments, he began to move within her.

Their bodies were in perfect rhythm, completely lost in each other. They both grunted and moaned in pleasure. Buffy held onto his shoulders tightly, shifting her body beneath his as she encouraged him to increase the speed and strength of his thrusts. Nothing in her life had ever made her feel this good. This adored.

She opened her eyes to see him struggling to control himself. The demon within was raging. As far as it was concerned, Buffy was his and want boiled it the surface. She saw his eyes flicker yellow for a moment. Seeing that he was losing his fight, she kissed his forehead.

“It’s all right,” she whispered.

Spike latched onto her neck, sinking his fangs home and pulling Buffy blood into his mouth. Both of them found their release as Spike growled, “Mine.”

Before Buffy could respond, she felt Spike’s face shift back from his demon visage. He slowed, his motions finally stilling. She closed her eyes. Her body was completely sated, but something was off, something was missing.

“William, I…”

“Don’t, luv,” he begged, spooning his body around hers. “Just sleep.”

Buffy closed her eyes, deciding to obey him. She wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened, so she added it to the growing list of things he would have to explain to her later.

Spike held her in his arms. He had almost let it happen. Had almost let her complete the claim even knowing that such a thing would be disastrous. They would know. Angelus would sense it and Drusilla would feel it. Reality came smashing back at him. He still had to protect her-- even if it was from himself.

Chapter Twenty Two

Staying In Step

Buffy blinked, fighting to stay awake. Who would have thought the cold embrace of a creature of the night would make her feel so warm and safe. All she wanted to do was stay in his arms; fall asleep and forget about everything outside the four walls of the dingy motel room. But there was a real world out there that expected her to protect it from the likes of well…him. It was always so black or white for Buffy before. Granted she had only been the almighty Chosen One for a short amount of time but still it was pretty simple. Creatures with heartbeat—protect. Creatures without-- make dusty.

She nuzzled her warm cheek against his chest, feeling him absorbing her body heat. The thought of Spike falling away to dust made HER blood run cold. She shivered against him, causing him to pull her tighter against him.

“Sorry, luv. Wish there was something I could do about the lack of warmth,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head and then inhaling deeply. He wanted to get lost in her scent. Bury himself deep within her. He chuckled, feeling her lashes flutter against his chest. He could tell she was fighting sleep.

“Sleep. You need your rest, luv.”

Spike rolled onto his back, pulling Buffy closer to him. She draped herself around him, flinging her leg over him and holding him tightly. He suppressed the urge to chuckle at the fierceness of her embrace, even though he was reveling in it. No one in his life, undead or living, had ever clung to him the way she did.

“Not that I mind your impression of a python, pet, but what’s it about?”

“I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to let you go,” Buffy said, not caring how childish she sounded.

“Why is that?” Spike whispered.

“Because when I wake up, you won’t be here.”

Spike closed his eyes. She was right. He would have to leave soon. He had spent far too much time away from the Master, and Drusilla and Angelus would be healed by now. He would have to return and find out what they had in mind for the Slayer.

“You can’t even deny it, can you?”

He sighed, tilting her head up, smiling at the sleepy expression that swept across her face as he kissed her lips lightly. He pulled her against him again.

“Maybe you’ll have another lovely dream,” he teased.

“That’s cheating,” she pouted.

Soon, however, she did find herself drifting to sleep.

Yet it was Spike that dreamed…

Highgate Cemetery 1888

Spike walked through the mist, mentally kicking himself. Angelus had ordered him to seek out the Slayer to gather more information. Drusilla’s bouts of paranoia and fear were just getting worse. Something needed to be done, and quickly; before Drusilla was totally lost to them. Spike knew it was not because Angelus truly loved Drusilla. It was merely a question of pride for him. Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, would not be bested by another demon, even if it was the Beast.

They were getting close to finding a solution. Angelus was withholding information from everyone, waiting for the opportune moment to not only conquer the Beast but take out the Slayer as well. Spike told himself over and over again that there was no choice. The Slayer would have to meet her end. However, even with the added motivation of jealousy, Spike found himself trying to suss out the extra information Angelus was keeping a secret. If he could help her, he would-- even if she was going to marry that pompous idiot, Riley Finn.

Spike tried not to think of the look in her eyes the night before. It haunted him. Even when he finally found rest, he could still see the look in her eyes. The hopelessness.

He saw Elizabeth moving in the distance. She swayed back and forth, grunting a bit. Spike quickened his pace confused. It looked like she maybe in a fight yet he heard no sounds of struggle.

Spike hid quietly in the shadows and watched her for a moment, withholding his laughter. He watched as Elizabeth attempted to dance gracefully with an imaginary partner. She counted, holding her frame stiff, obviously uncomfortable and unsure of her steps. He watched as she missed a step, caught her foot in her skirt, and nearly toppled over.

“OH!!” She exclaimed, stomping her foot. She flounced angrily around and glared in the direction of his hiding place. “You can come out and let loose with that bout of laughter that I know you can’t keep holding in.”

Spike came out, laughing as she had suspected and clapping his hands.

“Yes, William, I hope you are amused. I don’t see why dancing is necessary at all! Mindless cavorting around a boodle of people!” Elizabeth huffed.

“Is boodle an actual word, pet?”

Elizabeth stopped her tirade to ponder that thought for a moment and then began to laugh as loud as Spike. When they finally regained their composure, she turned to face him.

“I have to learn how to waltz, but you know better than anyone how well I hold myself on a dance floor,” Elizabeth lamented. “My mother says a lady dances quietly, and doesn’t not kick and caper about, nor sway her body to and fro. She tells me I must learn to dance only from the hips and downwards.”

“She’s right, pet. but a woman is only as good as the partner that leads her. He must know how to keep a firm grip but still give the appearance of no strain to his partner’s hips.”

Spike took her right hand and lifted it to his shoulder. She resisted for a moment, feeling like a big clumsy doll, but at his warning glance, she allowed herself to be posed to suit him. Clasping her left hand in his, he lifted it to shoulder height and held it there while his free hand fitted itself to the beginning curve of her hip, holding her with a firm grip that sent her pulse skywards.

“You have to also trust your partner. Dancing for a lady is about trust, while for the man it is about strength.” His voice was quietly hypnotic and she was completely ensnared. “I will lead, you will follow.”

He took a step forward and she took a timid step back. At his calm look of encouragement, they continued to move.

“You see the man must know how to lead, how to second guess the other dancers on the floor and know to steer his lady away from a collision.”

Elizabeth watched their feet, beginning to understand the art of movement being created by their bodies.

“You’re doing wonderful, luv. Like I said-- it’s about trust. You have to learn how to trust the man. The woman has the harder part, since dancing backwards is probably not the most secure of feelings.”

Elizabeth giggled, still concentrating on their feet.

“Not as bad as you thought you were, are you?” Spike smirked.

She shook her head, daring to raise her eyes to his for a heartbeat. “I’m still afraid I will tumble and fall, thereby embarrassing myself and my family.”

“If you do fall, Elizabeth, it is almost always the man’s fault. It means he was not being mindful of you and did not have a steady hand on your waist. Now, staring at your feet as you dance is considered extremely déclassé. Let’s try again. When you feel you can trust me enough to guide you, you must raise your eyes.”

Spike nearly stumbled when Elizabeth’s head shot up, her green eyes staring into his, a look of complete trust and adoration shining from their emerald depths. He found himself lost in her gaze as they glided around the cemetery. Elizabeth smiled as she felt his grip tighten around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her arms went slack, drawing him closer, still staring into his indigo eyes.

He allowed them to sway to a stop, staring down at her. He could hear her heart racing. Her face was flushed and her breath rushed past her glossy, parted lips as she tried to regain her composure. He knew he was tempting fate, that he was taking it too far, but his hand double-crossed him is as he gently stroked her cheek. He watched as Elizabeth’s eyes drifted shut. She whimpered a bit as he lowered his head and lightly pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss deepened, rapidly spiraling out of control. His tongue swept over the seam of her lips demandingly and she opened up to him helplessly, her head falling back over his arm as he plundered her innocent mouth shamelessly.

The sudden moisture against his fingers as he held her face in his hands brought him back to reality with a jerk. She was crying. Spike slowly pulled away from her, feeling the shudder that ripped through her as she leaned forward, whimpering at the loss of contact.

Her eyes snapped open as she stumbled back, spinning away from him to wipe her tears away.

“Elizabeth, I’m sorry. I- I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Elizabeth swallowed her misery as she kept her back to him, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

“It’s alright. It wasn’t your fault. I was merely swept away by the moment. Forgive me, but my nerves are a bit of a fright. Mr. Finn and I are to attend The Guard’s Ball. Since he made his wedding announcement it seems as if he may gain entry into the Guard. I just want everything to be perfect for him.”

Spike looked down. “’His’ wedding announcement? Don’t you need two people for that, Luv?”

Elizabeth spun around. “Don’t mock me, William. I’m only trying to cope with the hand that I have been dealt.”

Spike walked slowly towards her. “You don’t have to marry him, Elizabeth.” he whispered.

“What is my alternative?” she asked, trying her best not to sound so hopeful. “Please tell me, William. Do I have one?”

Spike opened his mouth to answer her when she suddenly seized his arms in a deathlike grip.

“There is something near.”

They both turned and she gasped in horror, her Slayer senses kicking into full gear as they watched the Fog slowly creep across the cemetery towards them.

<>

Spike opened his eyes, reaching out for Buffy. He no longer felt the warmth of her body next to his. Instead he found a note on her pillow.

Spike,
I know it’s awfully immature of me, but I couldn’t stand waking up and not having you there. So I left. Please meet me tomorrow. I will wait for you at my house.

Love,

Me.

Spike smiled at the little heart she drew beside his name.

He quickly sobered as he thought of the task ahead of him. Rolling over, he got to his feet and began to get dressed. Time to face his dysfunctional family once more.

Chapter Twenty Three

Judgment

Sunday was usually her lazy day. Her day to do whatever she wanted to do. Normally, she just lay in bed and enjoyed the peace and quiet. After that, she usually spent time with her mother, pretending that she was just a normal teenager.

Today however she was in full slayer mode. Training, researching the whole nine yards. She had to be on her guard. Be diligent. Ensure that nothing harmed what was hers. For the first time since being called, she was facing a threat not because it was her duty or out of a forced sense of responsibility or obligation. It was all for him.

Buffy had watched Spike sleep the night before. At first his slumber was peaceful, but then he had begun to thrash around, that same tortured look she had seen on several occasions darkening his countenance. It was the same look he had worn when he first mentioned The Beast. The look of dread that had appeared when he peered out the window before they made love.

For whatever reason, something tortured her demon lover. Something from their past that even as a demon caused him unspeakable suffering. She was certain it was tied to her. He didn’t understand how much it killed her to see him in such pain. To see his resignation that darkness and angst was all he deserved.

Buffy did a roundhouse kick, her foot landing on the large punching bag. She didn’t mean to be so aggressive but she was so frustrated. She had gone up against a lot of things, but nothing like this. It seemed so much more was at stake now. They had bested The Beast before, and they would do it again. Before she could make any sort of plan of action, though, she had to figure out what was haunting Spike. What was it that he hid that had him completely convinced that once she knew about it, she would forsake him.

She vowed that this fog, this Beast, would fall if she head to tear down the sky around her. She would beat this not for the fate of the world, but for Spike. She roared, hitting the punching bag with her fists with such force that it ripped off its hinges and slammed against the wall behind it.

She gasped for a moment truly shocked at her show of strength just as Giles entered the training room along with Xander and Willow.

Giles looked at her in surprise and Willow and Xander simply stood there, mouths gaping at the site of the huge punching bag embedded into the wall.

“Nice shot, Buffster.” Xander quipped.

“Sorry. I’m a little wound up today,” Buffy chuckled stretching out her arms then craning her neck.

“What have you guys found out?” Buffy asked flopping down on the floor to begin stretching.

“Not a whole lot. Just that there was a fog similar to the one you described to us back in the late 1800’s.” Willow explained.

Buffy nodded slowly.

Rupert watched the two young girls. He had been trained by the most intuitive minds in England and he really resented it when they thought they were pulling the wool over his eyes. Granted, there had been a handful of times when they were successful, but did they really think he would miss the silent conversation that past between the two of them?

Rupert took off his glasses and began to clean them.

“Yes, it seems this fog came around the time of the infamous Jack The Ripper,” he said raising his glasses to the light and pretending to look for specks. “Around the time of that Slayer you happened upon. Elizabeth Finn was it?”

“Elizabeth James” Buffy mumbled defiantly.

Rupert swiftly put his glasses on his face and pushed up from the table. “All right stop your unconvincing chicanery this instant!” he demanded.

“My chica-what?”

Rupert sighed. “Buffy, you and Willow are obviously hiding something. Honestly this fog is like nothing we have ever seen. Any withholding of information could mean the loss of innocent lives. This, and the looming threat of the Aurelian Master’s descendants coming to Sunnydale. Honestly, Buffy, now is not the time to be playing childish games!”

Buffy gulped.

“The Master’s descendents?” Buffy asked quietly.

“I got a phone call from a contact in Europe. It seems as if William the Bloody and his companion, Drusilla, are on their way to Sunnydale. The Master has called them here, it seems he wants judgment against whoever murdered his favored Childe.” Rupert explained.

Buffy leaned back on her hands, absorbing her Watcher’s words. The irony of the situation was not lost to her. In Spike’s world, she was a creature, a thing. While in her world he was considered the same.

“So he’s coming here to kill me?” she whispered.

Rupert sighed. “Buffy, Spike is one of the deadliest vampires to roam the face of the earth. He is more feared and infamous than nearly any other vampire out there. He got his nickname…”

“Because he used to drive spikes through his victim’s heads. I read it Giles.”

“Right. And Buffy, if The Master is calling his line then I am afraid he will call his mightiest Childe.”

“What about Angel?” Willow asked trying to find some hope for her friend.

“As Angelus you are right. He is a killer. His specialty was mind games, cruelty. Spike on the other hand, has had one hundred years to become stronger than his grand sire without the burden of a soul. Lucky for us, Angel is not Angelus, or there would be very little we could do. “

Buffy felt the bile rising from her throat. She tried her best to keep the burning tears from falling from her eyes.

“Try not to worry, Buffy. We will do everything in our power to stop him. He has committed many sins. Perhaps instead you will be his Judgment.”

Buffy stared up at Rupert. “Wasn’t it you that said I probably could not beat him?” she spat out.

“I did, but I watched you train today. You have a resolve I have never seen before. I believe if you take that into battle that you can stand toe to toe with Spike. However, let’s get back to the point at hand. You and Willow seemed to be hiding something from me. Something to do with this fog and Elizabeth Finn. Buffy…”

Rupert looked up only to catch a glimpse of Buffy running out of the training room.

“What’s going on with Buff?” Xander asked.

Rupert jumped to his feet again. “Really this is not the time…”

“Just shut up!” Willow screamed watching her distraught friend run away.

Tears spilled out of Buffy’s eyes as she sprinted all the way home and up the stairs to her room. She buried her face in her pillow, sobbing quietly.

Whatever the outcome was both sides now demanded Judgment. She and Spike would be pitted against each other. Expected to fight to the death. How ironic her new resolve, her new aggression that had given Rupert the confidence that she could go into this battle was solely awakened by one thought and one thought only. To fight FOR the thing that she would be called to fight against.

<>

Spike leaned his head back against the stone of the cavern waiting for Angelus and Drusilla to emerge from their joint recuperation. At one time the smell of their lingering sex in the air would have enraged his demon. Now he no longer cared. It didn’t matter to him. Nothing mattered but the tiny blonde slayer that made him feel like the bloody ponce he once was.

Once again, he’d had to go find some idiotic fledgling to bleed so he could cover the scent that was distinctly slayer. He lucked out finding a newly risen vamp attacking some girl in an alley on the way to his little family reunion.

As strange as it sounded, it warmed his cold body a little when he pried the undead creature off the girl and ended it’s pathetic existence. He should have felt guilty for yet again taking out one of his own kind but he didn’t his one justification was that he was helping his girl…

His Girl.

Spike shook his head sighing.

She should have staked him for what he nearly did the night before. He could not help it his demon demanded it. Wanted it. It’s desire for her laid dormant for over one hundred years found other outlets to release it’s frustrations on. By all rights, the girl should have been his. Yet Spike denied it. What in the world did he think would happen. The second he looked into her trusting eyes, the feeling of her surrounding him, her scent…

Spike growled, resisting the urge to tell his little family to sod off and go find his girl. Make her his. Finish what the demon wanted, what it cried out for. Finish the Claim.

But the rational part of Spike prevailed for once in his undead life. There were things he needed to find out. He remembered something a vengeance demon once said to him.

“Evil things have evil plans.”

The Order of Aurelius was as evil as it got. He had to make sure Buffy was safe. Make right his tragic mistakes that haunted him for over a century.

He heard them coming to him. Three of them. The senior members of his line. Spike pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it across the cavern.

Angelus emerged first, smiling that deadly grin Spike hated with a passion. They were planning something, he could feel it.

“William, you clever boy.” He smirked.

Spike rose to his feet waiting for the explanation of his Grand Sire’s surprising praise.

His eyes darted over to Drusilla for a moment. She stared at him, her head cocked to the side as Angelus held her firmly to his chest.

The Master looked as if he was pleased as well.

“Not that I mind a good bout of recognition, but care to share with me why I am being exalted?” Spike asked.

“The Beast has returned.” The Master announced.

“Sussed that out the other night, Great-Gramps. Saw its parlor trick.”

“You saw the fog?” Angelus questioned.

Spike shrugged his shoulders. “In the distance. Saw it get a hold of the Slayer. Thought she was done for, but the tricky bint got away somehow.”

They were all still wearing those almost cheerful grins. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Last time I checked, Grandpa, the Beast was not too fond of the Order of Aurelius”

The Master laughed. “You know as well as we do that the Beast must honor its vows. What you did was a stroke of genius. And completely clever for one that was so young at the time.”

Spike wanted to scream. His deceit now being commended.

“Really William, you should have let me in on the game. I would have loved to play. Still, the ends justified the means and now that little bitch will pay for what she has done,” Angelus sneered.

The Master laughed heartily. “I never thought it would be this delicious.”

“I must ask you why you did it, William. Surely it was not to protect me.” Angelus said.

“No,” Drusilla said quietly. She raised her eyes, staring into Spike’s. “He did it to protect what he felt was his.”

Spike nodded slowly. Both he and Drusilla knew who she was talking about, but Angelus obliviously held Dru tighter to him.

“Well we both know who she belongs to,” he mocked.

The growl that Spike’s demon let loose seemed appropriate. Even though Angelus spoke of Drusilla, Spike was having a difficult time controlling it at the moment. The inner recesses of his brain only heard Angelus claiming something. Jumping to its overheated conclusions, it growled at the thought that he may be referring to the Slayer.

He had to do something about this situation before again he found himself repeating history and losing everything.

“Children, no need to fight. We have bigger things to think about. It seems William has done what I wanted, what I needed.”

“Wot’s that, old man?” Spike asked.

“You have brought me Judgment. Soon, I will be free. You will bring the Slayer to me so I will kill her.” the Master said complacently.

Spike crossed his arms.

“And just how will I do that?” Spike asked.

Angelus smiled smugly. “You will think of a way, dear William. You always do. However, if you need my assistance...”

“Right, Gramps. Like I would want you yammering in my ear for hours on end,” Spike said covering quickly.He looked at the Master. “This may take some time. Don’t expect me to come back here every dawn so you can tuck me into bed. And keep your lackey’s away.”

The Master nodded. “Very well. We will leave you to your work.”

The Master walked out of the room followed by Angelus.

Spike closed his eyes. The wanted him to deliver her to them. He was to bring about her death. All his vows and promises began to feel empty. What was he to do now?

He opened his eyes to see Drusilla standing in front of him looking concerned. “Poor Spike what ever will you do?”

Spike took a step back.

“Naughty boy, trying to touch a piece on light when all you know is the dark. Miss Edith tried to warn me. Told me ages ago.”

“Not now Dru,” he muttered, trying to hide his anguish from his Sire. He was startled to feel Drusilla slip something into his palm. He looked down at the object blinking hard astonished by what he saw.

“Miss Edith’s a bad dolly keeping so many secrets.” Drusilla slipped off to find her daddy, leaving Spike standing there staring at the thing she placed in his hand.

Chapter Twenty Four

Dissension in the Ranks

Buffy sat on her bed, heartbroken. She had hoped that he would have shown up while she patrolled, but he never came. She wondered if he would come to her at all. Did he somehow find out that she knew why he was here in Sunnydale? She wanted to see him she needed to look in his eyes and see the creature Giles had described to her. Maybe if she saw it there, she could do her duty.

Smoothing her silken nightdress, she stood up, pacing, trying to find something—anything-- to take her mind off Spike.

She heard the rustling at her window. Her heart leapt to her throat and she slowly turned around and saw him standing there. His eyes did not meet hers. He looked up to say something only to look down again.

“Let me guess. You got bad news too,” Buffy whispered.

“Too?” Spike asked.

“I found out the Master brought you here to kill me. I guess I sort of knew that all along.”

“He wants me to bring you to him,” he confessed.

“So, now what?” Buffy asked crossing her arms. “Do we thrash my room with a good brawl? Or do you think I am just going to roll over and let you take me? I didn’t want to believe you would actually consider it.”

Spike’s head shot up. “Where in the bloody hell would you get an idea like that from?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Makes sense. I kill your kind.”

“And I bite yours,” he shot back.

“My Watcher thinks I could take you. He wants me to kill you,” she choked out.

Spike looked into her eyes, realizing what had transpired since their early morning separation. Battle lines had been drawn by both sides and somehow he and Buffy had been chosen to stand against each other. He saw the pain in her eyes as she searched for something in his. Something to give her hope. He looked down, suddenly shamed as he remembered Dru’s words. How he had stolen a piece of the Light. He had tainted her yet again…

“Maybe you should,” Spike whispered.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t. I never could.”

“When you find out what I did. The choice I made…”

“Stop talking in riddles and just tell me what is going on!” Buffy hissed through clenched teeth.

“I can’t. Not yet. Yes, Buffy, they’re my family, but ….”

“Forget your family! I have a family too, Spike. My mom, Willow, Xander, Giles. But for some reason, none of them matter right now. All I can think about is you! What about you, Spike? What’s best for you?”

When he looked away without saying anything, Buffy sighed; a ragged sound in the quiet of her room.

“Fine. Chose them over me. Do your worst. Take me to him and let him kill me, or stay out of my life!” she shouted as she made as if to leave the room.

Her words left him shaken. How could she think for a moment that he would chose them over her? He was to her in two steps and grabbed her arms.

“Is that what you really want?” he demanded.

“Yes!”

Spike slammed his mouth down on hers with desperate, bruising force. She struggled against him but he kept at it until she shuddered and gave in to his kiss. As soon as she stopped fighting him, his punishing assault eased until his lips were barely brushing over hers.

“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked quietly, his tongue running lightly over her bottom lip.

“Please, just let me go,” she pleaded, her voice tight with threatening tears.

Instead he kissed her again. Buffy groaned as his tongue invaded her mouth, curling around hers and stroking an instant response from her body.

“No, Buffy. Never. I can’t let you go,” Spike said. He mouth left hers, running hungrily down her neck to the slope of her shoulder. The thin strap of her nightdress gave way before his seeking hands, revealing the curved perfection of her breasts. His eyes drifted shut and a soft purr emanated from his throat as he nuzzled satiny flesh and taut nipples. He captured one between his lips and traced it reverently with his tongue before biting down gently.

Buffy swayed, her nails digging into his shoulders as her nightgown slithered down her hips to pool at her feet, leaving her standing there in a tiny pink lace thong.

“God you’re beautiful,” he murmured. Slipping one arm around her, he drew her tightly against him. He couldn’t stand the thought that he might be losing her. Again.

“Spike, we can’t. We need to sort this out,” Buffy protested half-heartedly as he pressed her down on the bed, his body hard and heavy on hers as he followed her down.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t. Just tell me to stop and I will,” Spike whispered, kissing a line up her chest to her ear and nibbling the sensitive lobe. “Tell me to stop, baby, and I will.”

She moaned as he pulled away and knelt between her thighs. Long fingers teased her skin and the edges of her thong before slipping under the scant covering. The scrap of fabric was skimmed down her legs and thrown over his shoulder as he licked and sucked his way up her inner thighs.

“Still want me to stop?” he asked, kissing her mound lightly.

“Spike, please. I…” Before she could finish her last word his tongue was inside her, drowning in her wetness. “Oh! God…” she keened thrusting her hips along with each stroke of that talented appendage. Her teeth sank into her lower lip in an attempt to stifle her hoarse cries of pleasure.

“Don’t” Spike whispered, his hand reaching up to halt her actions. “I want to hear you. How I make you feel when I do this to you.”

His hands gripped her thighs and spread them wide as he covered her with his mouth once more, licking and sucking voraciously.

“William...” His name was drawn from her in a hiss of delight. The sensations his talented mouth were creating became almost too intense and she mindlessly tried to squirm away. Spike refused to allow it, his strong hands still imprisoning her legs, bruising the tender flesh.

Buffy cried out, a breathless scream torn from her as her body shuddered. She lunged her lower body towards his mouth as he devoured every bit of her climax.

He growled, commanding more from her. Buffy had no control over her body as she submitted to Spike’s mastery of her body, climaxing over and over again, harder and faster than she ever had before. Almost in fear that she would never feel his touch again.

“Oh God, baby, you taste so good. Stay with me, luv. Please...” he said not caring how pathetic he sounded.

Buffy whimpered as he moved over her. Pulling him to her, she flipped them around so Spike was now laying on the bed. Slowly she rose to her knees. She worked the fastenings of his pants and shoved them to the floor. His gasp of shock was music to her ears as she wrapped her mouth around him.

"That feels… Oh Christ…So good, luv." Spike was practically incoherent. Running his hands though her hair, he looked down at her as she sucked him hard. He tried to steady himself and thought he had it under control. Until he looked and saw Buffy looking up at him with lust filled eyes. The moment their eyes met he knew it was over.

He tried to pull away but Buffy held on, digging her sharp little nails into his thighs to hold him down. The tiny pinpricks of pain sent him over the edge. Squeezing his eyes shut, he roared,

"Oh, bloody hell!" and jerked as he spent himself inside her mouth.

Nothing could compare to what he was feeling at that moment. No women ever allowed him this luxury. He continued to watch Buffy as she swallowed everything he had to give. The sight had him hardening all over again. Reaching down, he hauled her up his quaking body and held her tightly.

Buffy was more than a little stunned. He had always seemed so self-assured and unwavering, yet he trembled like a child in her arms. She closed her eyes, knowing at that moment how she truly felt. They were each other's equals. She freely gave control to him and he in turn did the same. When they were together, their titles fell to the wayside. She was not the Slayer; he was not a Master Vampire. They were only a man and a woman who belonged to each other.

Sliding his hand under her thigh, he positioned himself at her entrance. His hand curled around her neck and pulled her closer until their foreheads touched. Their eyes locked, their lips barely brushing, Spike slowly slid home.

A breathy gasp of intense pleasure escaped her. Buffy saw his valiant attempt to rein in his control and nipped it in the bud by wrapping her legs around him and arching to meet each powerful thrust of hips. Her entire body felt aflame from his touch.

Spike could no longer fight the inevitable. He pushed her over onto her back and lowered himself on top of her, holding her tightly to him as he plowed into her softness.

“I love to watch you; your eyes, your face. The way you give in to me,” Spike whispered. He kissed her, groaning as she sucked voraciously on his invading tongue. “Oh God, Buffy,” he hissed. “I can’t get deep enough.”

Buffy held on to his shoulders, her harsh pleas and broken cries inciting him further. When she saw his eyes flicker gold, she tilted her head to the side with a whimper of supplication. Everything within her seemed to implode when she felt his sharp incisors penetrate her flesh.

Spike fangs sank deeply into his mark, pulling her life’s essence out of her. He felt her blood rolling down his throat as he coated her raging heat with his cool seed. His demon finally sated for the moment, he closed the tiny wounds with his tongue. Finally spent, they laid in each other’s arms clinging to each other desperately.

“I dream about it sometimes. Him killing me. Maybe that‘s the way it‘s suppose to happen.” The quiet assurance in her voice caused his un-beating heart to clench in fear.

“No, pet. This is my fault. If anyone is going to fall, it’ll be me,” he vowed.

Buffy rose up, staring into his eyes. “I can’t let you. I won’t let you. Maybe something happened in the past something that can help me now. There’s got to be something I can do. I’m the Slayer!” The minute the words were out she realized how childish they sounded, but he only smiled at her with a hint of sadness.

“Have your little witch friend do another spell,” he ordered gently.

“You won’t be mad?”

“No. In fact, I’ll even be here with you this time.”

“You would do that for me?” Buffy said

“Don’t you know by now that I would do anything for you, Buffy?” Spike whispered, running his fingers through the silky blonde waves of her hair.

Buffy smiled, kissing him deeply as he rolled her over. Nothing had to be done right at this moment.

Twenty Five

The Mojo

Author Note: Will be playing a bit with The Hieroglyphs on the Stele of Revealing. A well known ancient Egyptian Stone Tablet. Here a link for more info http://www.luminist.org/archives/stele.htm No fact behind this just played with the words.

Life would be entirely too strange for her if she actually sat back and thought about everything that had transpired for her in the last year. In the matter of months she went from Queen of The Geeks to best friend and confidant to the all mighty Chosen One. No withstanding the obvious risks and perks that role entailed; she had also discovered that somewhere deep within her lay the potential to become a fairly efficient witch.

That thought alone scared her enough. The first time she felt the rush of power coursing through her was both a feeling of ecstasy and that of immense fear. Fear was something she had become accustomed to. Patrolling with her best friend in the most dangerous situations each night, an encounter with a not so nice witch, her best friend since kindergarten suddenly possessed by the spirit of a hyena, and of course the would-be biology teacher who turned out to be a She-Mantis. All had become par for the course in her formerly humdrum life since meeting Buffy.

The scenario she presently found herself in would have caused most normal people to scream, grab something wooden and pointy, twist open a flask of holy water, and hurl it at the creature before her. Yet for some reason, she felt at ease. Perhaps it was because the creature itself looked nervous, pacing back and forth while running his fingers impatiently through his slicked-back platinum locks. Perhaps it was because he had acted like a perfect British gentleman when they were introduced. Well, nearly perfect. He piped in with a snaky comment here and there and then quickly gifted her with the nickname of Red, a tribute to her the shade of her hair.

Or perhaps it was the way he looked right now.

Willow sat on the bed watching him carefully as he tried to fight the smile creeping across his face when Buffy reentered the room armed with candles and herbs similar to the ones Willow had used before. There was a mixture of amusement and adoration in his eyes. His demeanor seemed contrary to everything they had been taught. Instead of the cold, evil predatory nature she had observed from his kind on more than one occasion, it was clear that his feelings for Buffy ran deep. She had watched vampires cower in fear of her friend, their fear and surprise as she plunged a stake through their hearts. But she had never seen a vampire act the way Spike was now. He calmly took directions from the pint size girl. Sure, he made with the smart-assed comments, but it was apparent to Willow this man would run through hell and back barefooted for her friend.

Buffy looked at her handiwork. “Looks about the same, doesn’t it?” she observed.

Spike looked at the circle critically. He looked at Willow then back at Buffy. “This won’t do.” He announced flatly.

“But it looks exactly the same as before.” Frowning at him, Buffy tried to figure out what was off about the circle in front of her.

Spike groaned.

“Look Slayer, you forget that some of us aren’t a tiny as you. There ain’t no way I’m gonna to fit in there. Even if I put you on my lap, there’s still a chance one of those candles will catch. Vampire, luv. Not so much on the cherries jubilee impression.”

Buffy let out a small “eep” and turned around, staring at a very amused Spike.

“You said you were going to be here I didn’t think you meant...”

Spike took a step toward her, his cool finger tips skimmed her arms and trailing down to her hands. Lifting them in his, he wrapped them around his neck and pulled her tightly against him. He kissed the top of her head.

“Told you that I would be right here with you.”

It was a huge risk; a creature over a century old trusting a sixteen year old novice of a witch to hurl him back through time, but somehow Buffy knew that was not the cause of his anxiety. He was afraid this secret of his would come to light. She knew he wanted to come along to be there with her in case she did find out. She also knew he was desperately trying to hold onto every moment with her.

Willow cleared her throat.

“Um, were almost ready. I just need a second.”

Spike and Buffy watched Willow leave the room. Buffy turned instantly busying herself trying her best to make the circle bigger.

“Your friend is interesting.”

Buffy looked up smiling at him. “Willow’s great. Don’t worry, we’re in good hands.”

Spike sighed. “I can sense that, pet. Been around a long time and your friend, she… Well, she reeks of magic. Powerful stuff.”

“What do you mean?” For the first time she noticed the concern in Spike’s eyes.

“Like I just said, luv, I’ve seen a lot of things. Even dabbled a bit in the mojo department myself a few times. Not my cup of tea, but I have met some witches I wouldn’t want to piss off. You’re friend; she packs a lot of power in her punch, she just doesn’t realize it yet. Magicks aren’t something to take lightly. Red has a boatload of it.”

Buffy crossed her arms, thinking back to the times she and Willow had gone on patrol. A few demons had actually flinched at the sight of her mousy friend. She wondered now why she had never made the connection.

“Maybe I should talk to Giles about it.”

Before Spike could respond, Willow came back into the room.

“All right, I’m ready when the two of you are.”

Spike nodded, stepping into the circle now big enough to accommodate him. He sat down in the center and reached out to Buffy.

Buffy took his hand, trying to concentrate at the task at hand. Gently Spike pulled her down into his lap. Buffy took his Zippo from him, lighting the red candles all around them.

Spike took an unneeded breath and buried his cool head against Buffy’s chest, closing his eyes as he struggled to find the strength and courage to endure whatever would happen next. Buffy stroked his head, comforting him for just a moment, then turned and nodded to Willow.

“Since it’s the both of you going, I had to up the spell go for something with a bit more umph.”

Buffy felt Spike stiffen beneath her. Knowing she had to be the brave one, Buffy smiled at Willow.

“Go on. We trust you, Will.”

Willow closed her eyes then began the spell.

“By Bes-na-Maut my breast I beat;

By wise Ta-Nech I weave my spell.

Show thy star-splendour, O Nuit!

Bid me within thine House to dwell,

O winged snake of light, Hadit!

Abide with me, Ra-Hoor-Khuit!”

Buffy watched the flames around her all flicker in unison as the air around her rushed out of the circle.

“Unity uttermost showed!

I adore the might of Thy breath,

Supreme and terrible God,

Who makest the gods and death

To tremble before Thee: --

Humble to bestow your power on me.”

The room began to blur around her. This was different from last time. Buffy could feel the magic around her, the power resonating from Willow’s voice.

“The light is mine; its rays consume

Make for them a secret door

Tear Into the past to a world that was before”

Buffy gasped as the herbs and dried flowers she had spread outside of the circle of candles rose in the air, hanging for just a moment before beginning to swirl all around her and Spike. She felt as if she was in the eye of hurricane. An unsettling fear began to spread from the pit of her stomach. Suddenly she felt Spike’s grip tighten around her. She looked down and saw him staring up at her. He smiled, trying to convey to her all that he felt. To remind her that he was right there with her. Buffy placed a small kiss on his lips and then tightened her grip around him. She closed her eyes, giving into the sensations around her.

“Abide with me, Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

Open the ways of the Khu!

Lighten the ways of the Ka!

The ways of the Khabs run through

Give to them their desire by your decree

Hide their essence in the past

Bring them to the sight they long to see”

Spike held his girl as close to him as he could; he kissed her forehead one more time and took one last look at the mystical happenings surrounding him. He caught sight of Willow, his eyes narrowing with concern. The witch’s hands stretched out to the sky and a phantasm of lights swirled around her as her body shuddered for a moment. He watched as she blinked once then twice. He felt himself being pulled away. Completely helpless, he watched as her innocent green eyes turned black as night.

Twenty Six

Two Places At Once

Spike barely had time to blink when he found himself standing in a room. Familiar sights and smells slammed into him with such a force he reached to brace himself against a mahogany side table he knew from memory to be there. He blinked a few more times, adjusting his eyes to the lighting in the room. After a moment he looked around the room trying to figure out where Buffy was. A few moments before, she was encased safely in his arms, beginning the journey into the past with him in an attempt to figure out the reasons behind The Beast’s return.

She was not in his arms anymore. He started to yell for her when his eyes suddenly focused. He saw her there, standing over someone sitting at a small vanity table. He knew this room well. The over-decorated Edwardian lace, soft pink colors, and various trappings of a Victorian Noble Woman. All a marked contrast to the girl that resided within it. Spike walked towards Buffy, who seemed transfixed at the person sitting at the table. The closer he got the slower and more hesitant his steps became. Finally he stood by the table. He and Buffy shared a look, then both looked at the girl in front of them staring into the mirror, oblivious to the two people sharing the room with her.

Buffy watched as Elizabeth sighed, examining her reflection in the mirror. She watched as her doppelganger closed her eyes, biting her lip for a moment. She clenched her hands into a tight fist, trying to calm her nerves.

Elizabeth knew this was for the best. She understood that she truly did. Her Watcher’s words rang in her head.

“Although you have a duty to the world, Elizabeth, you have a duty to your family as well. It would not bode well if you were an outcast from society. The one advantage that we have is that creatures never suspect you because of your upbringing and your demeanor, until they get close enough to sense you, of course. In addition, Mr. Finn is soon to be accepted into the Queen’s Guard. You will have access first hand to information that we once had to sneak around or bribe people to get. Being the wife of a member of the Guard means you will be at dinner parties and gatherings were they will talk of their duties and occurrences within the city. The Council is very pleased with this match, as are your parents.”

Elizabeth looked in the mirror again.

“Don’t be a fool, Elizabeth,” she said to her reflection. “Stop thinking about him. He belongs to another, just as you will.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, shocked at the words that came from her mouth. The sharpness and anger rang in her ears. She gasped, trying valiantly to take a breath within the confines of her strangling corset. With the words still floating around in her mind, she looked at the mirror again.

“Who are you trying to fool, Elizabeth? You’ll only ever belong to him.”

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing, hoping against hope that this would be the last time she would cry over him. That this was the beginning of the healing process she had heard about when one’s heart was shattered. That if she cried this last time, she would be able to move on. Deep down inside, she knew it wasn’t. He consumed her every thought, her every dream, every desire. It would never, ever be over.

Buffy watched the girl in front of her, listening to her attempt at reason, then to her heartfelt confession. She understood completely the pain of the century old version of herself. She felt it as if she was experiencing it with her at that moment. Here, and as her future self.

She looked down, noticing Spike’s reaction to the weeping Elizabeth. He was crouched down in front of this Victorian version of herself, his hands hovering over her knees. For a moment Buffy felt a surge of unreasonable jealousy at the way Spike looked at the sobbing girl. His eyes filled with adoration and regret. He reached out, wanting to comfort the distraught girl in some way, her confession to her reflection bringing back a slew of emotions long buried inside of him.

“Oh God, pet, I’m so sorry,” he whispered his voice shaking.

All feelings of irrational jealousy faded. Everything he had felt for this long ago girl, he now felt for her. They were one and the same, Buffy could sense that now. Different times, different upbringings, but still the same girl beneath it all.

Suddenly, Elizabeth’s head snapped up. She took a deep breath looking at the mirror again.

“Oh for goodness sakes stop your blubbering, already. You’ll have enough to weep about after three hours with those boring stiffs,” she said dabbing her eyes.

Spike smirked. “That’s my girl.”

Elizabeth gathered herself, letting out a huff of irritation, then adjusting the small fan in her hair. Her eyes darted to the door making sure no one was near then she opened the tiny drawer in the vanity, pulling out a small image. She fingered it lightly, staring at it with longing. It was an image of a small Parisian street, a gift from her Aunt and Uncle after their trip to Paris. As foolish as it was, it was still Elizabeth’s dream. One day she would see France. She would walk down the Esplanade and gaze up at the statue of Hector Berlioz, the French Composer whose romantic tunes both stirred and haunted her. She had to hold one dream as another slowly crumpled.

Spike and Buffy watched as her head snapped up her again. Gracefully she laid her picture down and rose to her feet, turning slowly to face the open window. Buffy gasped at what she found there.

“Soddin’, buggering idiot!” William screamed internally. Why the hell was he here? He had told himself he was going to stay away. There was no reason for him to be there, since Sir James was attending the ball. Angelus and Darla had been called to the Master and Drusilla had found some peace for the evening. He should be out roaming the streets, causing mayhem and spilling some blood, but before he knew it, he was here, climbing up to her window and watching her for a moment before entering her room.

He tried not to react to her, but it was near impossible. As much as he hated the God awful fashions she had to be subjected to, Elizabeth still looked like heaven on earth.

She stood there in her soft blue frock. The gown ghosting over the tops of her shoulders, her bosom encased in lace. A small satin bow that matched her sash adorned the right side of her bodice. Her skirt flowed down around her with its layers of taffeta, organdy, and tulle all covered in the soft blue lace. She looked like an angel standing before him. Her sweet countenance gazed up at him with a mixture of pride and longing. Both of them openly stared at each other for a long time without saying a word.

Buffy gasped at the site of the Victorian version of Spike. William. In her dreams he was real, when she came back in time before she had been too afraid to be this close to him. Now he was standing in front of her. Buffy reached up, standing unseen directly in front of him, her fingers nearly touching his cheek.

It was Spike’s turn to feel the pangs of jealousy. Buffy smiled up at the fledgling version of himself. Her eyes brimming with tears. She looked overcome with emotions. She swallowed hard.

“I remember the first time I dreamed about you,” she whispered, staring up at the man in front of her.

Like Victorian Elizabeth, the century old version of William was ignorant to Buffy’s presence. She took a step back still staring at him, and then slowly her eyes found the future version. Spike.

Spike sat down in a chair reaching out for her. Buffy walked over to him lowering herself onto his lap.

“You took my breath away that night, kitten. Well, you would have, if I breathed,” Spike teased.

Buffy smiled, wrapping her hands around his neck. “What’s going on? Why am I so dressed up?”

He smiled up at her. “You’ll see.”

William looked down suddenly fascinated with the carpet. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. We got separated in the cemetery after the Fog rolled in.” He groaned. How much of an idiot did he sound like?

“Thank you for your concern, William. I had no trouble getting home. I appreciate you coming to check in on m,.” Elizabeth whispered.

“Boy, we were really stupid. Any fool could see we are nuts for each other,” Buffy observed.

“I don’t think we ever truly denied that, pet. Deep down inside we knew we were. I think we both just thought things would never work out. Different time, different rules.”

Buffy turned in Spike’s arms. “What makes us so different now?”

Spike kissed her lips not giving an answer to her question, pointing instead at the couple in front of them. Buffy resumed watching the tense couple.

“You look lovely, Elizabeth,” William’s voice was barely a whisper.

Elizabeth blushed furiously, both in embarrassment and in glee. “Thank you. I was afraid the color would be too bright for such an occasion. I do not want to draw unwanted attention.”

William took a step closer to her. “You can’t help but draw attention, Elizabeth. You’re lovely. Effulgent, even.”

Elizabeth smiled shyly at his compliment.

Buffy turned to question Spike. He put his finger to her lips. “Look it up when we get back, pet,” he grinned.

Buffy scowled at him for a moment then turned back to the young couple.

William saw the smile play across her face. Lord, why did she have to smile that way? Look at him the way she did? Especially now that he was helpless against her. She looked like a princess from a fairytale, a fae creature. Surely too good to walk among earthbound creatures, too good to look at a creature like him the way she did.

“Is tonight he Guard’s Ball?” William asked.

Elizabeth nodded slowly.

“Then I should be off.” He turned away, ready to make his escape.

“WAIT!” Elizabeth squeaked.

William closed his eyes tightly. She did it again. Made him stop. Made him want to turn and look at her. He told himself to keep going, to crawl out the window. However, he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead he turned to the girl that tortured his every thought.

“I was hoping you would practice with me one last time. I’m still afraid I will fall and make a fool out of myself. Would you mind?”

‘Well go ahead and do it you Ponce!’ he thought. ‘No use in trying to fight it. You’re going to give into her, you always do.’

He walked up to her and placed his hand on her hi, and then raised his hand in the air, ready for her to take her stance.He cleared his throat.

“Now remember...”

“A Waltz is about trust. I must trust you to navigate me and lead.” Elizabeth reminded him softly.

It was all he could do to nod as her tiny, warm hand slipped into his, the other coming to rest on his shoulder.

Soon they were waltzing as best they could around the small room. Elizabeth’s eyes stayed fixed on his, conveying all she felt in her heart. She nearly swooned when Spike returned her silent affections.

Why he did it he would never know. It was wrong, but it was too much. All the pent up emotions, all the things he never dared to say to her caused an avalanche against the walls within. For whatever reason, William chose to stop fighting her at that moment. He gazed down at her finally showing her what he felt for her. How much he wanted things to be different. How much he truly adored her.

Their Waltz became a sway. They rocked back and forth, lost in each other’s eyes, their dance resembling that of a modern day slow dance. They gradually swayed to a stop.

William pulled back. Slowly he turned Elizabeth to face the mirror.

“I have something for you,” he said.

Elizabeth watched her reflection fascinated as the ghostly image floating above her and settled around her wrist. She touched the trinket lightly.

“It looks like a bracelet, but look.”

Elizabeth looked down at the heavy sliver object clasped around wrist. The back was a solid sliver piece. The front had an open cut of scrolls and leaves with a pair of intertwined sapphire hearts in its center. She noticed a small brass pin on its side. When she pulled at it delicately, it opened up like a fan. There were six small pieces of paper cut to match the curved design of the front.

She looked up at him, mystified by the pretty trinket. “What is it?”

“It’s a Dance Card. Every woman of status should have one. No man should come up to you and ask you to dance without first making an appointment for the honor.”

“William, I cannot accept this.” Elizabeth said looking down at it in amazement.

“Don’t worry; I didn’t do anything of ill repute to get it. It actually belonged to someone I used to know,” he confessed.

Elizabeth thought to protest again but in truth she was too thrilled to refuse his present.

“William, I…”

“Elizabeth? Darling, are you ready? Mr. Finn is here!” Her mother’s voice floated through the door and she rushed over, holding it in case her mother decided to come in.

“I will be there momentarily,” Elizabeth called back.

She turned to say something to William, but he was gone. Sighing, she looked down at the dance card. She gathered her belongings and her large feather fan and exited the room.

“You ran away a lot,” Buffy whispered.

Spike ushered her up to her feet than took her hand in his. “That’s normally what you do when you’re afraid of something.”

“You were afraid of me?”

“Terrified.”

They shared a kiss, then Spike began to drag her through across the room.

“What’s going on now?” Buffy demanded.

Spike smirked. “Got a Ball to attend, luv. We don’t want to be late.”

Chapter Twenty Seven

Lead And Follow

Elizabeth jaw ached from the artificial smile that played across her face. She watched everyone in the room carefully. They all seemed so ungenuine all bowing with practiced grace and elegance. Their conversations were all rehearsed , saying the right things to the right people. She felt as if she was being choked. Her eyes darted across the room to Sir James then away swiftly. In polite society they were mere acquaintances. She found it torturous to not be allowed to hold a conversation with the only person she felt truly comfortable with. She fanned herself slowly with rather large feather she carried with her all night. All seemed silly to her all the fanfare involving events like these. However this was her life.

She saw Riley Finn coming toward her with a few colleagues smiling brightly at her. Ignoring the burn in her jaw she doubled her effort plastering yet another fictitious smile at his approach.

“Ms James, my associates and I were just commenting on your overwhelming beauty I am afraid I had to come and introduce them to you. It appears they did not believe you were my intended.”

Elizabeth bowed slightly telling herself repeatedly that she could not run out of the room in a panic. She watched the other girls eyeing her from across the room. Elizabeth had always been a bit of an outsider in their social circle. Riley Finn had been the ideal match for several of the girls parents as well as themselves.

The animosity was expected. None of the girls could figure out just how Elizabeth had caught the eye and snared one of society’s gold boys so quickly and so secretively. The rumors ran rapid.

“It is true Sir. Mr. Finn and I are to be married within a month.” Even as she said it she felt bile creep up her thought. Her eyes began to water. She tried to will her angst away. Telling herself it would not do good to make a scene in front of a crowd just waiting to tear her up. Thankfully her flustered state was mistaken for a hard blush.

“Well one can tell you are excited about this match. I wish you two all the best.” The man said.

Elizabeth bowed again, painting a smile across her face.

Suddenly someone came up behind Riley and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Elizabeth if you will excuse me again. Mr. Anderson a close family acquaintance wishes to have a word with me.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth said politely bowing.

Just then she saw them. They were far worse than any creatures of the night she had ever encountered. At least the demons she could kill, or turn into dust. These things drawing closer and closer to her, she could do nothing about. All she could do is stand there and wait. Hoping their attack would not be too harsh.

“Good Evening Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth smiled eying to three girls.

She was frozen with fear. Past encounters with this select group had never gone well for her and she had no reason to suspect that this time would be any different.

“Good Evening Anastasia, Priscilla, Beatrice.” Elizabeth said bowing again.

Anastasia eyed Elizabeth gown carefully. It was not an original design her parents could not afford such luxuries. However, the three girls in front of her were always in the latest fashions. Lace and brocades adorned their perfectly manicured outfits. Their noses were raised so high in the air Elizabeth often wondered how they could walk mush less dance so gracefully. Again, their positions guaranteed the finest instructors. The girls were the epitome of what a Lady should be.

They were everything Elizabeth could never be.

Priscilla looked away. Out of the three she was the kindest yet, she never did anything on her own but it was her mission in life to emulate everything the other two did. Beatrice treated Anastasia like a Goddess. And of course Anastasia deemed herself one so their friendship suited her nicely.

Anastasia covered her mouth with her fan.

“I loved your frock Elizabeth very…bright.”

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. As always the cruel girl had zeroed in on her deepest insecurity. Normally she would have excused herself, walked away. Let the three girls giggle at her. But not tonight.

“Thank you it is Mr. Finn’s favorite color.” She said. She knew she was lying. But she had to try.

“Funny Ana did Mr. Finn not say when he was courting you that brown was his favorite color?” Beatrice asked icily.

Anastasia laughed.

“Yes I believe he did.”

“Pray tell Ana, why is it that you and Mr. Finn stopped courting?” Elizabeth asked boldly.

Ana snapped her fan shut so harshly a piece of the boning actually snapped.

“His taste are obviously well beneath me standards.”

Elizabeth fanned herself coolly.

Anastasia smiled at Elizabeth wickedly.

“It does not matter. He still calls on father. We spend quite a good deal of time together.”

“Yes quite often in fact.” Beatrice interjected.

Elizabeth felt tears welling around her eyes. She knew Riley had social obligations, Anastasia and her friends were part of his inner circle of friends. It only reminded Elizabeth once again that she was an outsider.

“How lovely I do hope you will come around once we are married. It will be nice to be closer to Mr. Finn’s friends.”

Beatrice looked Elizabeth up and down.

“Forgive me, you have still yet to share where you got a gown is such in interesting shade.”

Elizabeth looked down at her dress. She thought it was lovely her mother did everything she could to make it look as if it was tailored for her. Not bought from a catalog. Still the girls in front of her made her feel as if she was wearing sackcloth.

“A very interesting question.” They all heard.

All four girls turned. Elizabeth had to stop herself from gasping.

“William.” She whispered.

The three girls standing with Elizabeth nearly swooned at the man standing before them. His presence was commanding. He carried an air about him that made them all stare in awe. His was in all essences of the word gorgeous.

Anastasia immediately started to bat her eyelashes.

She bowed using all her practiced grace even turning her head slightly away in mock humility. The other two girls openly stared while Elizabeth’s eyes widen in disbelief.

William was half tempted to leave the wench standing there with her hand in the air looking like an idiot. But he had to play the part be a gentleman. He had not planned to come here but his curiosity got the better of him. He was relieved when Sir James called for him. Now he had his excuse. He heard the three girls torturing Elizabeth from across the room. It took every ounce of energy not to show his demon visage and rip into them. Instead her slowly formulated a plan to help the Slayer.

William took Anastasia’s hand and patted it instead of giving it the customary kiss. He then turned to Elizabeth and took her hand. He stared into her eyes as he pressed his cool lips to her hand.

“Ms. James a pleasure as always.” He said softly.

Elizabeth blushed openly.

“Mr. Bagely, what brings you here.”

William smiled still holding Elizabeth’s hand in his. He took her hand and slipped it under his elbow.

“I had to come and see if the gown I brought from Paris did you justice. As suspected as always Ms. James you outshine such trivial trappings.”

The girls all began to blush at William’s brazen remark. It was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh.

“How do you know Mr. Finn’s intended. Mr. Bagely?” Beatrice asked.

“Her father and my father are old friends. We were in correspondence much of our lives. My father sent abroad to attend to some family business. I hand delivered the gown to Ms. James. The color is all the rage in Paris. I am a bit shocked it has not made it to the States yet.”

The three girls blushed again.

Elizabeth tightened her grip trying to suppress her giggle.

“Have you met her betrothed?” Anastasia asked.

“Regrettably No, I was informed he was called away on an urgent matter.”

Elizabeth nodded suddenly relieved.

“However.” William said taking Elizabeth’s dance card in hand.

“I do believe it is my obligation as a close family friend to fill Ms. James’s dance card.” William pulled out the small pin and scribbled a few things on the thin pieces of paper.

“That makes you my dance partner for the rest of the evening.”

Elizabeth hid behind her fan smiling brightly.

Anastasia eyes the dance card carefully.

“What an interesting piece.” She sad barely able to contain her envy.

“Yes it was a present from my mother to Elizabeth’s mother. A bloke by the name of Peter Carl Faberge was commissioned for it.” William announced.

The girls actually let out a squeal.

Elizabeth tried to bit back her own shocked.

Closing her card, William smiled at the girls. If you ladies will excuse us. Mr. James and I have a waltz we must attend to.”

Elizabeth allowed William to lead her out onto the dance floor. She would have taken a moment to gloat, smile smugly at the three girls standing there green with envy. However she was too overwhelmed by William’s presence. She felt his hand grasp hers.

“Remember what I said before Luv. You must trust your partner. ” He teased.

Elizabeth took a deep breath.

“William it is dangerous for you to be here. What if someone figures out…”

“Elizabeth, the only people here that would have any inclination of what I might be are your Watcher and yourself. Seeing as Sir James is the one who summoned me here, I am in serious doubt that he will be eager to reveal my undead state.”

Elizabeth cocked her head.

“Why did he call for you? Has something happened?” Elizabeth asked stiffening in his arms.

“Lord you are a befuddlement woman.” William said shaking his head.

Elizabeth took a step forward starting their dance.

William lowered his head.

“A moment ago you looked as if you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Now here with me you are ready to battle the world.” William twirled her around.

“He asked me to talk to some blokes down at Gordo’s. It seems as if that blasted fog is causing a few witches to take notice. They wish to seek an alliance with you Slayer.”

“An alliance. Why?”

“Because they can not get close enough to stop it. Not without you.” William explained.

“I see.”

“They are working on something. We should know in a few days whether or not it was effective.”

Elizabeth nodded solemnly.

“Just a few days.” She muttered.

William gulped unnecessarily. He knew exactly what she was thinking. It would be over in a few days. And just like that he would be gone. Away from her.

Elizabeth trembled in his arms. She closed her eyes losing step for just a moment William quickly recovered.

“Thank you.”

William smiled.

“That would have been terrible. Especially with such an interested audience.” Elizabeth said.

The whirled catching sight of the three woman standing there gossiping.

“Do not let them get to you Elizabeth. You are more than they will ever be.”

Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. The sincerity of his words struck at her very soul.

The waltz ended.

William led her away from the dance floor and onto a foyer. He chuckled a bit remembering the first time they danced.

“I must tell you that was an interesting name to throw out. Faberge.”

William looked down shyly.

“He actually made that piece Pet. Before his studio was commissioned to make those blasted Eggs for the Czar.”

Elizabeth gasped staring down at it.

“William then this is priceless. I can not accept this.” She said beginning to remove it from her hand.

William stopped her.

“Don’t. You should keep it. What am I going to do with the bloody thing.”

Elizabeth looked down at it.

“William who did this…”

“My mother.” He interrupted.

Elizabeth took a step back.

“My father gave it to her before he died. It’s the only thing I kept…”

William turned away in anguish.

Tears fell freely down Elizabeth’s eyes. When he turned back around he was shocked. He expected shock, awe, perhaps the forlorn look he was accustomed to seeing in her eyes, instead what he saw was rage, fury.

“Elizabeth what’s wrong?”

Elizabeth strode up to him pushing him with all her might.

The back of his legs hit the ledge with such a force he feared he would topple right over. Elizabeth grabbed him by his lapels swinging him around until he slammed against the dark corner of the foyer.

“What’s all this about?” He sneered.

He opened his mouth to continue his tirade only to be silenced by Elizabeth’s lips crushing his. She held him tight to her taking what she wanted kissing him fiercely finally she released her hold.

She panted her staring at him, her skin flushed, her eyes shining brightly up at him.

“You made me think you did not care. That I was easy to forget. That meant nothing to you.” She whispered.

William looked down.

“I mean something to you.”

“Elizabeth you are reading to much into this.”

Elizabeth raised her hand holding the charm up.

“This is the last part of you William. The only bit of humanity you have left. And you gave it to me. Your mortal enemy, The Slayer. I have allowed you to deny it for this longer. I will not endure this anymore. Admit it! I mean something to you.” She challenged.

“No, you’re a means to an end.” William spat back.

Elizabeth pushed him against the wall again.

“ADMIT IT!!” She screamed.

“NO!” He screamed back.

“Admit it.”

Elizabeth began to crumbled instinctively William held her up.

He looked down she was sobbing openly. Elizabeth whimpered pressing her forehead to his.

“Admit it William. Please.” She begged. “We do not have much time left a few days. Please.”

William shoulders sagged. He was tired so tired. It was too much fighting her, fighting his feelings for her everyday. It felt too good, having her in his arms her warm breath tickling his cool skin. Her desperate pleas.

He looked into her watery green eyes touching her cheek he placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

“You mean something to me Elizabeth. God help me, you mean everything to me.”

Elizabeth threw her arms around him. He felt her heart pound against his chest as she kissed him so sweetly pouring out her heart her very soul into him. It was more than William could bear he pulled her further into the darkness giving into the fiery beauty in his arms.

Buffy watched the scene unfold. She smiled smugly up at Spike.

“Well don’t looks proud of yourself.” He said.

“The witches.” Buffy said suddenly remembering why William had shown up at the ball.

“The witches what did they do?” Buffy asked.

Spike shook his head.

“We never got a chance to find out. Things went a bit..”

“That’s it!” Buffy squealed.

“The witches it was a spell something to fight The Fog. We need to get back!” Buffy demanded.

She took Spike by his hand.

“Luv, wait don’t you want to find out..”

Buffy stopped him with a kiss just as she had done all those years ago.

“I do, but not like this. I want you to tell me. I think you need to tell me.”

Buffy kissed Spike again holding onto him with all her might. She felt cool air swirling all her around her. Again she felt a pull as her feet felt like they were lifting off of the ground.

Buffy opened her eyes gasping. She looked up and saw Willow standing over her.

“Spike where’s Spike?” Buffy coughed.

Willow looked out the window. You guys just appeared, he was holding you. Once he knew you were o.k. he just told me to take care of you said he had to see to something.”

Buffy sat up a bit confused.

She felt something hard, solid in the pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out her hands still trembling a bit. She gasped completely shock.

She blinked hard. Staring down at the object in her hands. There, in the palm of her hand was Elizabeth’s shiny silver dance card charm.

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