The Itch

by Gilly Bean

And They Meet

Growling, Buffy threw the vampire off of her. She leapt up, and brought the stake quickly down, pushing it deep into his heart. A surprised look crossed his face, and then there was nothing. Smirking, she stood up, and walked over to her gear. 'And another one bites the dust...' Smiling, she grabbed her gear, and walked out of the park, heading for her small apartment. Sunrise was only 3 hours away, which meant that work was only 4 away. Grumbling softly to herself, she unlocked the door, and entered her loft apartment. It wasn't bad, but the price was more then she would have liked. Tossing her shoes off, she re-locked the front door, and then crossed to the small bathroom. Buffy started to peel the clothes away. She had worn a tight baby tee, with a pair of old baggy sweat pants. Her long hair was thrown haphazardly into a ponytail, which was half falling out. Turning on the shower, and adjusting the heat, Buffy removed the last of her clothes, and slipped into the warm caressing water.

As she let the water pound across her back, Buffy let her mind drift, as she often does in the dark recesses of night. Her mind touched briefly on Angel, her failed love. She missed him, and hadn't seen him in years, though once in a while, she received a letter, or phone call. He was busy now, his life having taken a turn after her that tore them apart. She was glad he was happy, but she really wished she could be, too. Her hands absently dragged the small bath puff across her wet skin, leaving a sudsy trail of vanilla scented soap behind it. Her mind continued its foray. She touched on her short affair with Riley, which ended with him leaving town. He had been a vampire junkie, craving the feeling of being bitten. She still didn't understand that. The years passed by to quickly for her. She was starting to feel as though she were attached to a live fuse, and was just waiting for the end now. Breaking down, she started to sob in the shower. Her back slid against the cool wall, until she was sitting on the floor of the tub, the water hitting her to mix with her tears.

Finally, she stopped, and turned the water off. She pulled herself from the tub, and wrapped a towel around her body. Buffy dried off quickly, and crawled to her futon. Since she only had enough money for a loft, she hadn't wasted money on both a couch and a bed. Instead, she bought a futon, and had both, in one. She quickly fell asleep, her empty mind to weary for even a dream.

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Her birthday was quickly approaching, and the council had plans for her. She was getting on in years, and they needed to know she could still do her job properly. It wasn't her strengths they were worried about, but rather her mind. They feared the time for her to self-destruction was growing near. A single plan, much like that on her 18th birthday, but more then just that. For Buffy's 25th birthday, she would be locked into a house with one of her enemies, and no strength, no help, nothing. There would be no lights, and the doors wouldn't open for 72 hours. They knew she would not come out happy, but it had to be done, to test her mental awareness. 1 beast would enter the house, both being locked into a cell. It would be released once Buffy was there. The clock was ticking, and it was almost time. The council had done their homework, and came up with the one thing she had never been able to defeat when it was in Sunnydale. It had been years since she had gone against, or even seen it.

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Opening her eyes, Buffy frowned. It was still dark. She felt like she had slept for hours, but that couldn't be, because it wasn't light out. She sat up, and looked over towards her clock, but it wasn't there. Frowning again, she went to stand up, only to realize she was on a mattress on the floor. She quickly stooped into a defensive crouch, and looked around, but could make nothing out. Her mind felt so fuzzy, so unclear. Nothing was making sense, and as she stood there, she grew dizzy. Before she knew what was happening, Buffy slumped over, passed back out.

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Groaning, Spike held his head as he sat up. He looked around, and growled loudly, seeing that he was locked up in a dark cage. Just like a bleedin animal, he thought. He stood and started to pace back and forth, growling to himself in a low guttural way. Stopping, Spike turned his eyes up, sticking his nose slightly in the air. He sniffed quickly, and then took a longer drawn out breath. That smell. He knew that smell. Slayer blood. He cursed softly, fearing that his time was nearing an end. He continued to prowl, and started calling out taunts in the darkened room. He could make out a smaller room attached to this one, and had a feeling that's where the slayer waited for him.

****************************

Whimpering softly, Buffy placed a hand on her aching head. She sat up, slowly this time. Looking around her, she could make out nothing in this dark room. As she tried to get oriented to the room, she heard it. A voice she hadn't heard in years, but still knew from the first sound uttered. Spike. She should have known he was behind this.

"What's the matter slayer, to scared to come and get me? Just lie there, doing nothing. That's fine. Makes it more fun for me anyway when the girls just lay there." She stood, and her hand quickly shot out to find a wall. Luckily, she found it just as her body started to give out. Leaning heavily against the wall, she inched forward, slowly and cautiously.

"Come on, then, Slayer. Let's have at it. I feel the need to mess with your doilies." That voice, how it grated on her last nerves. She had sent him away after that whole mess with Angelus, and until now, she hadn't heard from him again. She couldn't say she was upset at having never heard from him again. Finally, she found a doorway, and crept through it. She was looking blindly from side to side.

Spike knew the instant she entered the room. The hairs covering his arms and neck stood on end, and he turned in the cage just in time to see her enter the room. His lips curving into a sardonic smile, he started rattling at the cage walls. He smiled gleefully when he saw her jump and turn towards his direction. Just as he was about to start calling out more taunts, the cage lifted, and his eyes narrowed. He had been watching her, and knew she hadn't opened it for him. Just what was she up to?

As soon as the cage cleared his body, he sprung forward, pouncing on her. She fell quickly to the floor, and then went into defensive mode. Jabbing upward, she tried to unbalance him, and succeeded only in tossing his upper body far enough to the side that she could pull away from him. Crouching on the floor, she stopped breathing for a moment, and concentrated on just the sound of the room. Her senses were attuned only so far, however, and in this situation, she sensed nothing of him.

Spike got up, and started prowling around her like a lion on the hunt. He knew she was lost without her vision, and that it would be fun to make her suffer before killing her. He stepped back finally, and watched her turn in circles. She was scared, he thought.

Looking around, Buffy shivered. She had felt it once before. She knew what was happening. Her powers were gone. Her extra sensitive senses, her strength, everything. Growling, she looked in one direction, and focused all her energy there.

Spike watched as the scared slayer quickly became a brassed off slayer. He knew that look. Preferred it really, to that mousy scared look she had on before. He liked to talk big, but deep down, he would prefer the fight to the girl just giving up to him. It was like foreplay, really, this dance of theirs. Spike's eyes narrowed when he noticed that she was looking directly at him. He knew she couldn't see him, but he figured her senses had kicked in.

"What's the matter, slayer, confused?"

"The only thing that confuses me right now, is why you came back, and why the little ho didn't." She quickly started towards the voice. She stumbled once, then righted herself, and walked until she was right in front of where she had figured him to be. Looking at him, or hoping she was, she smirked. "What's the matter, she giving it out to everyone but you?"

Spike's hand shot out, and backhanded her. Buffy had been expecting it, to some degree, but still wasn't prepared for it. She went sprawling, and felt the world spin. Shaking herself for a moment, she sat up again, and looked up at him. He stilled when the scent of blood filled the air. Growling low, he looked down at her, and saw blood dripping from her nose.

She went to stand, but the dizziness assailed her senses again for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she stood, and faced the dark spot.

Spike silently circled the slayer, watching her reactions to the hit. He had fought her before, and she seemed off. Something wasn't right. Finally, he stopped, this time behind her. He leaned in, and gently whispered by her ear.

"What am I doing here, slayer?" She jumped and spun around, fist flying out and connecting with his jaw. It staggered him a bit, but nothing like what it should have. His laugh sounded loudly in the room, breaking the tentative silence.

The Clash

Breathing heavy, she looked around, turning quickly from side to side. His laughter sounded out, rich and full. She growled. "You mean you didn't help organize this circus?" She had started backing up, only to find herself quickly pulled against his chest. His arms held her in a vice grip.

"Now, slayer, what makes you think I give a bloody hell about what happens with you? I woke up over there in a pretty little cage. Bollucks, I don't bloody well know how the hell either of us ended up here, pet." His words were whispered gently against her ear. She struggled in his arms, but without her strengths, there was little she could do.

Cor, her wiggling body in his arms felt wonderful. Muttering to himself, he pushed that thought out of his head, even as he grew hard thinking about her. Leaning in, he let his mouth close in to her ear.

"Is that quiet enough yet, slayer?" Realizing she was stuck, she nodded, and he let go. She fell back, and crouched down. Breathing heavy, she faced towards his voice.

"Let's just get this over with. Fight to the death and all that. I'm sure you won't mind a stake, will you?" She sounded like the old Buffy, but he could tell she was different, not the same.

"Let's dance, slayer." He dove in, and caught her off guard. She stepped to the side just in time to miss the brunt of his attack, but his shoulder drove into her side, and pushed her back against the wall. Stepping back, he paced slowly in front of her, watching her through silted eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for, slayer? Not gonna stake myself, you know." She crouched low, and pushed herself at him, and jumped back. She came at him next with a spinning kick. Through it all, he staggered back a bit, but was fine. His laugh reached her ears and infuriated her more.

He spun around for a roundhouse kick, nailing her in the face. She went flying against the wall again, and the bittersweet smell of blood again filled the air. She pulled herself up, and growled. Good, he thought, she's really pissed now. She came low at him, plowing her head into his stomach, and pushed him back until he fell this time. Stumbling on top of him, she pulled her fist back, and punched him square in the face.

Rolling to the side, she quickly stood up, and readied herself for another attack, when his laughter reached her ears.

She frowned and waited, when suddenly, she could see him. He had his lighter with him, and had lit it. She blinked at the sudden light, however weak it was. His face came into view, and she watched him wearily.

Spike, though, had started looking around, and found that they were in an old mansion. A large fireplace took up most of one wall, and had wood in it. Above it, on the mantle, there was an oil lamp, and several candles. Everything was covered with dust, and cobwebs. He left Buffy standing there, confused and worried.

Spike took the oil lamp down first, and lit it, then lit some of the candles. Once the place was rather decently lit, he looked at the wood in the fireplace, and started digging around. He found some kindling, and worked on lighting the fire.

Buffy watched him with a look of utter confusion on her face. "What are you doing?" she finally asked him.

"Burning your stakes, Slayer." His answer was quick, and sarcastic. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm giving us some bloody light, that's what." He looked back at her, half hidden in shadows, and gave her a smile that was meant to warm her up as much as the fire would. She had a swollen cheek, and her face had blood on it, both dried, and drying. In the last 8 years, she had grown more mature, looked more mature. Her face had haunted his dreams for those 8 years. Several times, he had nearly convinced himself to come back to Sunnyhell, but he always stopped himself.

"Oh hell, slayer, I'm not going to fight you while you are down. Takes all the fun out of it for me. Now, what happened, lose all your strength? Take a bloody long holiday from working out? Or wait, I bet you retired and let the other slayer take over, innit right, pet?" He walked slowly towards her, measuring out each step as he went. She watched him come closer, but knew it wasn't to attack. His body didn't hold that tight tension he had when he fought. He stopped a few feet from her, and looked her in the eyes.

"No, I didn't take a holiday. The council of watchers is testing me, I think. And don't have any fears about me not being able to fight. I can still do it."

Exploring

Snorting, Spike turned and walked away from her. Buffy frowned and watched him. She was sure he was plotting something. Glancing around, she could not find much that could be used as a weapon. Spike sat down near the fire, with it at his back as he watched the slayer. Buffy walked backwards until her back hit the wall, and then she sank down to the ground against it.

Sitting there, she looked over at him. He was acting so calm, and it was unnerving her even more when coupled with her lack of power. He closed his eyes and took in a deep unneeded breath. Buffy just watched him, her mind working furiously to figure a way out of this.

Opening his eyes barely a crack, Spike let his gaze wander to the worried slayer. She was completely unnerved by this, and that gave him mixed feelings. He knew that if given the chance, he would not kill her. He had no idea where that feeling came from, but there it was, in all its glory. She looked up at the ceiling and then over at him again. Standing, she walked slowly towards him.

"This isn't going to work, Spike. Fight me, and let's get this over with." She came closer, and grabbed a candlestick from the mantle. It was a heavy silver one, with ornate scrolls of silver winding around it. Snorting, Spike rolled his eyes.

"Way I figure it, Slayer, we ended up even last time. I've no wish to tip the scales again. 'Sides, I want someone who is worthy of the fight, not a shell of a person." With that, he turned his back on her. Growling deeply, she glared at his backside.

"Alright, fine. When I get by strength back, you will die. Makes little difference to me, I suppose." With that, she stuck an old candle into the flames of the fire pit, and lit the oil lamp. More light flooded the dirty room.

Buffy glanced around, and she decided she had better look around and find out if there were any other creatures in the house. She went towards one of the two doorways. Seeing it end in a room with only a mattress on the floor and dust settled on the walls, ceiling, and floor. This was apparently the room she came from. Turning around, Buffy jumped to find Spike standing right behind her.

"Jeez, evil dead, you could try announcing your presence." She brushed past him, only to feel his hand wrap around her arm and grip it tightly. Spike pulled Buffy back to him and looked down at her. "And here I thought you knew I was in here with you. My mistake." He leaned down until their noses were barely an inch apart, and held her there for a moment.

Shivering slightly, Buffy pulled back and was surprised when he suddenly let her go. Stumbling a bit, she found her footing before walking past him to another doorway. Peering through it, she found a large front doorway and a staircase. A hall continued behind the staircase. Going immediately for the front door, Buffy was not surprised to find it locked up tight. The glass was reinforced with wire mesh on the outside of it.

Muttering, she turned and looked first at the stairs, then at the hall behind them. Spike stood in the doorway, leaning against it as he watched her. There was not much to this place he could tell, but there were rooms to explore. No reason not to tag along; never know what she might find.

Spike followed as Buffy walked up the stairs first.

The Rooms

Buffy crept slowly up the stairs, her eyes watching for any trouble as she went. There were 6 doors all together. One on each end, and two on each side. The door on the far end was closed completly, but the other 5 were in varying stages of openness.

The door directly in front of her was partly open, while the other one on that wall was open all the way. The door at this end of the hall was just barely peeked open, as was one on the same wall as the stairs. The last one was open all the way as well.

Spike watched as she looked from one side to the other, trying to figure out where to go from here. She finally choose the partly open one across from them, and shoved it open. Entering slowly, she looked all around, and saw that it was a bedroom. The bed frame was rusted, and the mattress on it was rotted away, but it was still a bedroom.

On the far wall, there was a boarded over window, with a dresser under it. Buffy glanced around once more before crossing to the dresser. Lighting a ciggerette, Spike leaned against the door frame. He took a long drag as he watched her root through the dresser. Mostly, all she was dragging out was clothes that were in tatters.

Finally coming to the last one, Buffy held little hope for anything useful. She tugged the stuck drawer open, and saw something better then any thing else in the world. She saw a wooden frame, just perfect for making 4 stakes.

Quickly, she tugged the week wood apart. One splintered as she did, making it impossible to use. The other three sides she held up as though it were water in the desert. Turning towards Spike, she held them up as she slowly advanced towards him.

"What, got yourself a new toy, pet? Sorry, still ain't gonna fight you. You'll have to do better then that." With that, he turned and walked from the room, giving his back to her. Buffy's mouth gapped open for a moment as she stared at the empty doorway. After a moment, she gathered her wits, and stomped off after him.

Buffy found Spike in the room across the hall. It was a nursery from the looks of things. Ancient toys were stacked on wooden shelves. A small bassinet sat unrocked in one corner. It was dripping in old yellowed lace. Pale ribbons that might have once been pink decorated it. Inside, a small doll lay, untouched for years.

Spike was staring down at the doll, and sighing. Damn things, always bloody make him remember Dru. He was glad that silly bint was gone, he really was, but just cause things went bad, didn't mean they always were. No, course not, there were lots of good times to be had. Spike reached out and lightly touched the dolls face, before turning to see Buffy watching him, much as he watched her.

"What, see something you like, Slayer?" He slowly walked towards her, almost daring her to stake him. He hoped to the god he never prayed to that she wouldn't.

Buffy watched him for a moment, never once backing down. She looked up at him, and almost flinched, but didn't. "Just watching my enemy. Can't really be all that great for my health if I turn my back, can it?" He just laughed.

"You silly girl, already told you I wouldn't fight you. No fun in it to fight without the power and strength. Now, come on, more rooms to explore. Lots more to see and do." He sounded almost chipper, and way to much like a tour guide to comfort Buffy. She left the room, and they continued on to the next.

Opening the door, Buffy was suprised to see that the room was almost completly dust free. It had another bed in it, this one newer. Other then the bed, a quick look around proved nothing else was in the room. They shut the door, and crossed to the next one.

This one was dirty as hell, and bare. Dirt and dust accumulated through the years stained the walls and floor. They left that room rather quickly. Moving on to the room at the end of the hall, they both hesitated before entering. Looking in the room, they both realized with a start that they were not going to like what they find.

The Beast

The door opened with a creak, and the dim light from the oil lamp shone into the room. In the far back corner, another cage sat. It was closed still, but the beast inside was awake. He snarled low, and paced back and forth. His eyes shot to Buffy and Spike as they looked inward. His flesh was rotted half off his enormous frame. It hung in chunks to him, filling the air with the putrid stench of death.

Muscle was open to the air, and bone gleamed dully in the light. His eyes were huge open sockets, with eyes that were barely held into place. His nose was gone, leaving an empty nasel cavity in the center of his face. His arms hung down nearly to his knees, and the legs were huge, nearly as thick around as Spike's waist.

Buffy looked the monster over, not identifying what it was immediatly. She looked at Spike, and knew this wasn't good. There was no way she would outlive both these creatures, not without her powers. Shivering, she shut her eyes for a moment until she heard a definite clicking sound. It was the sound of the cage being opened.

Buffy's eyes widened as the monster pounced out of the cage, walking on all fours. Spike pushed Buffy out of the way, and started right in on the beast. He landed several well placed kicks before Buffy managed to join in. Her small form was able to lash out like normal, but she didn't have the power to pack a punch with it.

To the beast, her fighting was more annoying then damaging. It was like having a fly buzzing around his head. He mearly looked at her, and with the sweep of his massive hand, he brushed her aside, sending her flying in to the wall with a loud sickening thud.

Spike saw her go, but concentrated more on getting the beastie away from Buffy. Over the loud fighting, growling, and taunting, Spike yelled out to Buffy, "Get the hell out of here, Slayer!" He didn't take the time to see if she listened or not, but kept attacking. He saw on the floor near the cage several weapons, swords, maces, and clubs. He grabbed the sword, as he rolled in that direction to avoid being smashed into the ground.

The house was rumbling, shaking from the large man's fighting style. He took advantage of his large 7 foot frame, and used his massive feet to stomp down on the ground at his opponent. Buffy saw Spike lunge for something, and her eyes widened at the cache of weapons on the ground. Eyes lighting up, she worked her way to them, grabing a sword in one hand, and a mace in the other. Buffy looked up, and her eyes met ice blue ones.

With a growl, Spike threw himself back into the fight, ignoring the urge to throttle the silly little bint who didn't have enough sense to leave when offered the chance. Soon, however, Buffy's annoying attacks became more effective. With the weapons, she was able to cut away at his flesh even more.

What amazed both of them when they noticed, was that the beast didn't bleed, and that his flesh disinigrated as soon as it became dettached from him. Buffy continued to swing, slicing slowly away at his back, as Spike sliced at his front. His eyes lighting up, Spike called to Buffy, "Distract him, and get him to look away, lov, and we may yet win this round."

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The heat sensitive camera's that were taping the entire sequence picked up the sound from the room. Quinten Tavers sat watching the display with an eager eye. Buffy Summers had been the thorn in his bloody side for years, and he meant to do away with her. He had counted on Spike having a go at it.

He didn't count on Spike backing down, however. He watched as the two battled the Vy'real beast. The only way to kill one was to cut his head off, and it damn near looked like they may have figured that out.

Tavers was getting an odd feeling from the two of them. They were fighting together, which wasn't odd when facing a beast like this, but what was odd, was how well they fought together. Thier moves were perfectly aligned with each others.

In all the time the fight had been going on, never once had they gotten in each others way. It was almost as though they had done this before. He continued to watch as Buffy jumped from Spike's hands, and kicked the beast in the face.

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Kicking the monster in the face worked to get him distracted long enough for Spike to jump up, and slid his sword through the decaying tissue of his neck. Almost instantly, they were rewarded with a bright flame igniting him, and turning him to dust in front of them.

Breathing hard, Buffy sat on the floor among the piles of dust, and tried to slow her fastly beating heart. Her head was throbbing from where she landed against the wall, and she could feel small cuts and bruises along her body.

Spike looked down at her with a smug smirk. He had felt something fighting with her. They knew what each other was going to do, before it happened. It was almost like they were one. Bloody hell, could just be that we were enemies. Hell, I studied her, and she studied me.

Buffy finally looked up at Spike. After a moment, she quietly said, "Thank you."

Shrugging, he just nodded briefly. "No problem, slayer. So, you think that's everything? Or is there more?"

Tavers started to laugh, and pushed another button at his small console.

Running the Gauntlet

Spike held his hand out, and after studying it for a moment, she reached out to take the hand. He pulled her up, and studied her for a moment.

"So, now that the nasty is gone, what do you want to do, luv?"

"For starters, I want you to STOP calling me love! I'm not your love!" She dusted her pants off, and turned to walk out of the room. They had explored everything up here, so what that left was the main floor. And possibly a basement, she added in her head as an after thought.

Spike chuckled as she walked away, then bent down to pick up two swords. No way was he going to go in unprepared if it happened again. He picked up her scent after she left the upstairs, and quickly found her going through a large empty room on the main floor.

The room appeared to have at one time been a living room, but now, it was nothing. Buffy sensed the moment he came into the room, though he was silent, and held no light source. She could feel him, which unnerved her without her slayer sense to alert her. It meant she knew him, and could feel him, as a human would sense another human.

Shivering at the thought of knowing him on what seemed an intimate level, Buffy moved through the room, ignoring his presence. Spike moved into the room, and leaned against the wall, watching her. The swords both dangled from one hand at his side, and the other was fumbling for a cigarette.

Buffy was satisfied there was nothing in this room, and moved towards another open door on the opposite end of the room. She went quickly through it, not waiting to see if Spike followed or not. It was when she was alone in the room that she heard something that sounded deep, guttural.

It echoed through the large empty house, beating down like an exotic rain dance would pound on the earth. Spike stopped, and cocked his head to the side. Frowning, he ran for Buffy, the unlit cigarette lying on the ground. He held a sword up in both hands, and dove for Buffy when he saw her.

She screamed and dropped the oil lamp, which thankfully extinguished itself, rather then igniting all the spilled oil. Spike lay on top of Buffy for a moment, and the sound was all but forgotten. He breathed in her scent, smelled the blood on her, and he was filled with a longing he hadn't felt in years.

The sound got louder suddenly, and Spike recalled just where he was. A large blade came swinging from the wall, dipping lower and lower as it swung out. Gritting his teeth, Spike pulled Buffy with him back out of the room. The swords were laying in the open door.

Inching his hand forward, spike grabbed them just as another blade came down, slamming the room shut, like a doorway. Buffy sat up in the safe room, breathing hard. She couldn't see anything, and she was freaking out.

"Spike, what the HELL was that?!" She tried to look around for him, but saw nothing.

"It was a gauntlet, love. Nothing to fear, we survived it. That room, however, is no longer an option. We should try to find another oil lamp, though, so you can see where we are going."

*************************************

Tavers grumbled, and glared at the screen. He had hoped to have them, or at least one, stuck in the blade room. Now, he needed to unleash another evil. He really hated this part of the job at times. Now, however, wasn't one of those times.

*************************************

Spike slowly led Buffy through a maze of other rooms, and they came to what must have been the kitchen. In it, they found 2 more oil lamps, and several candles. Along one wall, was a large fireplace, which was used for cooking many years ago. With wood still in it, Spike lit the fire up, shedding a fair amount of light on the room.

"Burning my weapons again, Spike?"

Smirking, Spike answered with, "You know it, pet."

Buffy found a rickety old chair, and sat down. After the gauntlet, she was shaken, and hated feeling so helpless. She also hated that for some reason, she was relying on Spike. That was very unsettling for her.

Brushing her hair back from her face, Buffy took a few deep breaths, and stood back up. Spike had lit both oil lamps, and he handed one to Buffy now, while keeping the other for himself.

"Ready to move on, pet?" Spike watched her. He knew she was freaking out, and that wouldn't do them any good if anything more were to come from this house of horrors. "Slayer. Buffy, love. Take a deep breath, and calm down. I can hear the blood rushing through you at the speed of light. You won't do either of us any good if you freak out now."

Spike's words were tossed out carelessly, and had the desired effect. She was pissed now. "What the hell do you care if I'm any good to you? All you want to do is fillet me! Hell, I'm surprised you haven't killed me yet. Must be getting awfully hungry. We've been here for hours!" She glared at him, and then stomped out of the room.

Smirking, Spike followed along. "I am getting hungry, but I would prefer that you beg me to eat off your delectable skin. Don't worry, before we leave here, you'll let me eat." He nearly laughed at the loud howl she gave off as she stomped down the hall.

*************************************

Tavers listened to the exchange with some interest. This could work out to his benefit. What if the slayer did indeed allow this beast to feed from her? He could yet full fill the ancient prophesy he had been trying for 20 years to full fill.

Could she be the one it would happen with?

Silent Stalker

Tavers called out to the other man running the house with him.

"Release him now, please. I want to see them run."

*************************************

Buffy slowed down as she entered a room at the end of the house that was painted completely black. The room felt tiny, but it was deceiving. It was actually rather large. A small door was at one end of the room, near a corner. It was only about 2 feet tall, and about a foot wide. Frowning, she studied it for a moment, as did Spike.

"What do you make of that, Slayer?"

"I don't know, and I have this strange feeling that I don't want to know." She walked slowly up to it, and tried to open it. As with the windows, it was locked tightly into place. Shrugging, she picked her oil lamp up, and left the room, forgetting about it rather quickly.

They made a quick tour of the main floor, and found one door that must either be a closet, or a staircase, because of the doors flanking either side. It wouldn't open, so they just left it be.

Spike studied Buffy as she walked. The slope of her neck meeting her shoulders, the color her hair burned in the gentle firelight. The way her body moved, the muscles so finally in tune with each other. He took a deep breath, and willed himself to calm down.

Buffy felt his eyes on her, and tried not to freak. It was giving her major wiggins to know he was watching her so closely. Spike and Buffy finally headed back towards the first room they had started in. The fire had died down drastically, leaving a glowing bed of embers.

Buffy glanced around the room, and then sat on the hard Floor. Spike merely watched her for a few moments, before coming to her side and sitting. They were silent, neither wanting to speak to the other, and neither knowing what to say, anyway.

*************************************

"He's ready, sir. I'll release him now."

Taver's lips curved into a smile. He knew this would be good.

*************************************

The door opened slowly, and in seeped a mist. It floated at first, then became more solid as the door behind him snapped shut. Lips curling into a sneer, he sniffed the air.

Ahhh. The scent of a human. His favorite. This would be fun. He slowly drifted towards the door, the silent stalker eager to terrorize his prey.

*************************************

Buffy leaned back against the wall. She was getting tired again, and was thinking of taking a nap soon. Stifling a yawn, Buffy closed her eyes. To rest them, she assured herself.

Spike glanced over, and saw how tired Buffy was. He went over and stoked the fire, and soon heard her deep even breathing. Good, he thought, she was asleep. She needed it badly.

He prowled around the room, stopping every once in a while to sniff the air. He had to make certain he would notice if anything else was released into the dark house of horror, as they had dubbed it.

All was well, though. Nothing he could sense. Spike sat down next to Buffy, and gently, and slowly, prodded her to lie against him. Soon, her head was resting against his shoulder, and he had an around her shoulders. A smile graced his lips as he too closed his eyes.

*************************************

He drifted closer, listening to the sound of deep breathing, and the blood pulsing through the veins. Nothing else, though he knew another was with her. A vampire, he figured.

The mist drifted closer, until it was hanging towards the back of the barely lit room, watching them, and waiting. He looked on, until it would be time. He could smell their contentment, and it sickened him to his core. Before long, they would be done, and his job would be complete.

*************************************

Tavers laughed as he watched the screen. His stalker could be anywhere, and no one would know. Tavers couldn't see him, because he gave off no signature, either cold or hot. He was nothing, but he was everything.

Tavers maniacal laugh filled the air.

Dreams and Trances

Buffy stood under a large tree. It shaded the sun from her eyes, but let little holes of sunlight come pouring through. A large canopy of flowers hung from a grand arch, and she held in her hands a bouquet. Lilacs in a soft lavender color off set the white lilies and roses. Glistening white ribbon trailed down from it, and ended near her thighs.

Looking down, Buffy smiled at the white dress she wore. It was sitting just barely off her shoulders, and the neck scooped down just above her breasts. All along the bodice, small rhinestones were sewn, scattered about almost randomly.

The long skirt had flowers embroidered all about on it, the centers made up of more rhinestones. In the back, it scooped rather low, and had a long train. Behind her, a little girl about 4 years old stood, holding the train up.

Buffy turned to look beside her, and saw Spike standing there. His face was bathed in golden sunlight, and his hair shone like gold. She saw love and adoration shining in his eyes.

As Buffy leaned over to kiss Spike, she brought a hand up to his chest. Just before their lips met, he whispered softly, "I love you, Buffy." As the words were whispered, he started to slowly turn to dust, and before she knew what was happening, he was gone.

Gasping, Buffy looked down as she dropped the bouquet in her hands, but instead of the bouquet, she found a stake. Her dress was gone, and she was wearing a black cat suit, complete with a tool belt. Turning to look behind her in shock, she saw not a flower girl, but a soldier. Riley, her ex from college.

Blinking in surprise, she looked around, and rather then finding the wide- open forest, she found a black rocky cave.

"Nooooo! You can't take him from me so soon!"

"We didn't take him from you, Buffy, you killed him."

Buffy sat up, a scream echoing on her lips. Spike gasped, and sat up with her.

"What is it pet? You look like you've seen a ghost!" He rubbed her arms as she shivered. After rubbing her eyes, and looking around, she let her eyes rest on Spike.

"It. nothing. Just a strange dream, that's all. Maybe we should look around again, make sure everything is alright here." Spike eyed her suspiciously, but finally nodded.

"Right, then. Whatever you say, luv."

"How many times do I have to tell you NOT to call me that?!?!" She practically screamed at Spike. She stood, and grabbed the oil lamp, then stomped from the room.

What in the bloody hell is her deal, he wondered.

*******************************

The mist drifted from the room, sneering at the two preys. He had sat there, so unnoticed, and slipped into her dreams so quickly. It hadn't taken much to find out what she wanted, and destroy it. For now, it was only in the dream.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

*******************************

Travers watched Buffy sit up, and heard her scream. A sinister smile curved at his lips. "Right on schedule."

*******************************

Spike stayed behind Buffy. He could tell she was wound tight. Her muscles practically sang with tension. He would give just about anything to know what she had been dreaming about. He had heard her talking, asking not to take him away so suddenly.

The only thing he wanted to know was who 'he' was. Likely his poufy sire, Angel. Rolling his eyes, he followed behind her to another room. She ended up walking into the end room with the strange door.

Neither found anything different about the room, but both felt an odd sensation in here. It almost felt like something was breathing down their necks. Buffy had started to leave, and Spike turned to follow her, when the door to the room slammed shut.

Screaming, Buffy turned, and started to pound on the door.

"Spike? Spike open the damn door!" She was panicking and she knew it, but she was alone, and without her powers. She hated it, and hated even more that it was Spike she was being forced to rely on.

On the other side, Spike could hear the hysterical tone in Buffy's voice, and he tried to break the door down, but it wasn't budging.

"Slayer. Buffy, luv, it won't open. Go wait in our room. Stay there, and keep your sword near by. I'll find a way out of this."

Buffy heard him, and freaked. She set the oil lamp down, and started to beat on the door. "No! You can't leave me like this! You can't take him away from me already! I need him!" Buffy wasn't aware that she had stopped talking to Spike, and started addressing the house.

After nearly 10 minutes of both of them pounding on the door, Buffy slumped to the ground, crying softly. Her body was bruised and bloody, her muscles ached, and she was exhausted.

Spike heard her crying, and it was about tearing him apart. He kept trying to get the door open, but he had a strong feeling it was reinforced with steel behind the wood façade.

*******************************

Buffy finally sat up, not sure of how much time had passed. Something felt different in this room. She wasn't alone, but she couldn't see or hear anything. She just knew it, though. Just had a feeling.

"Spike?" She asked, softly. He heard her, though, and answered through the door.

"What is it pet?"

"Something's in here, Spike. Don't leave me out here, please." He started renewing his efforts to get out, when he heard her scream. Then, it was silent. He stopped, and waited.

"Buffy? Slayer? Come on, answer me. Slayer?" Nothing but silence answered him. A moment later, the door opened, and she slumped into the room. Her eyes were wide open, but she wasn't awake.

Kneeling by her side, he shook her. She didn't move her eyes at all. She was alive; he could hear her heart and blood pumping. She was in some sort of a trance, he figured.

Turning, he looked out at the room, and saw nothing. He couldn't sense, see, or smell anything in the room, and that bothered him, because he knew something was there.

*******************************

Buffy looked up at the air, and suddenly, she understood. It was a stalker, stalking her. She saw a flash as a mist came near her. Buffy opened her mouth and screamed as it dipped down, and entered her body. Then, all was black.

*******************************

The stalker smiled as it dipped down. He knew the instant she felt him, and he got a perverse pleasure in the scream she let loose. He slipped into her body, taking over and shutting down her mind. With a laugh, he let her slip into a trance.

*******************************

Travers saw her slump down, and waited a moment before opening the door. He watched as Spike tried to wake her, and his laugh filled the small room.

Suffocation

Spike held Buffy gently in his arms. He had a few ideas, but nothing he could confirm. She wouldn't wake up, and it was scaring the shit out of him. He had a feeling it was a stalker. They could mess with minds, both in dream worlds, and in reality. It was more likely to get a firm grip in the dream world, however.

Spike blinked. Wait, he thought. She had a strange dream. A nightmare. He stopped thinking for a moment, and looked down at her. Buffy's eyes were wide open, staring out at nothing.

Spike laid her down, and tried to think. He couldn't remember all of the stuff about stalkers, but he knew there was a fairly easy way to get them to leave the host body. He paced back and forth, looking down at her still form now and then.

Buffy could feel something, though it was on the edge of her grasp. She could sense it, but when she turned to look, it was gone. Everything she felt, saw, and heard, she sensed only with her mind. She could see Spike, but she couldn't get him to hear her.

She knew how to get out of this trance, but she couldn't do it alone. She needed Spike to do it for her. She watched lifelessly as he paced back and forth, stopping now and then to stare down at her.

Spike stopped pacing for a moment. He could recall most of what he had heard about stalkers now, and he knew they needed to be able to breath to stay in a host. Spike frowned, though. That didn't really help him, because Buffy also needed to be able to breath to live.

That was the only way he could recall, though, and the more he thought about the stalker, the more he realized it was the only way. He sat down and looked at Buffy.

Buffy knew the instant he came to the same realization, as she had already known. His eyes settled on her, and she knew that he was trying to come up with a different way. There wasn't one, though, that much she knew from one of the many study sessions with Giles.

She knew it wouldn't take long, stalkers needed air more frequently then humans did, so she could withstand the suffocation, but did Spike know that? From what she could see of him, she didn't think he did.

Spike leaned down, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. He then placed a hand over her mouth and nose, and squeezed gently. He didn't know what to expect, but he had a feeling he would see it when it left her. Apart from that, he wasn't sure how he would deal with killing it.

Buffy felt the stalker starting to struggle for air as she felt it growing darker. The air was becoming a burning pain in her chest, and she ached to open her mouth and suck in fresh gulps of chilly winter air. Her vision clouded, and finally blackened out.

Spike watched as Buffy's eyes lost the glassy trance like surface, and close. Just after her eyes closed, he saw her body shake tremendously, then a fine white mist rose up, shooting out of her at a great speed. As soon as it left, Spike moved his hand, and he felt Buffy's body lurch as she sucked in the air.

He stood and watched the stalker move above them, and every once in a while he could make out a face in the shifting mist. It hovered, then would come lower, and stare at Spike.

It couldn't go into Spike, that much he knew. It was the same deal. It needed to breath, and vampires didn't. Not concerned with Buffy for the moment, Spike followed the stalker with his eyes, then slowly raised the sword up, and pointed it straight at the mist.

Buffy started to cough as the cool air filled her burning lungs. She sat up, and finally the coughing subsided.

"The eye." she croaked out.

Spike didn't turn, but replied while watching the mist. "The eye, luv?"

"Get his eye. you have to send the sword through his eye." Her voice was still rough, and weak from the lack of air, and burning throat and lungs. Spike caught her drift, and started to point the sword straight up at it. He followed it, watching the faces as they appeared. He started to spear up, just as it would dissipate.

The stalker moved quickly, making his face fade as quickly as it would come. Unfortunately, he had to show his face. He couldn't go more then a few seconds with it hidden, or it would come forward on it's own. He watched where Spike was aiming, and tried to make it appear farther away from it.

Spike watched, and started to understand what the stalker was doing. Finally, just as the stalker's low rumbling laugh filled the air, Spike pulled his sword back at the last second, and buried it deep in the eye.

Buffy watched from her spot on the ground as the mist fell to the ground, taking on a humanoid form. His mouth was open in a howl of pain as he sank to his knees, and then lay back. His body softly turned to a fine white powdery dust that blew away as soon as it settled.

Spike turned towards Buffy, and smiled. "Bout time, luv. Didn't fancy having you turned into a stalker on me."

Buffy smiled, and looked at Spike. "Thank you, Spike. You could have easily killed me."

"What did I tell you about that, pet? Don't fancy killing a helpless girl. I like a challenge in my kills."

Buffy laughed a bit, but started coughing quickly from the burning sensation in her throat. She looked over at him, and noticed her belly starting to rumble. They had been here at least a day, maybe a bit longer, and neither had eaten.

Travers sat at his desk, his eyes narrowed. That damn girl was going to win at this rate.

Surviving the Gauntlet

Buffy was curled on her side on the mattress in 'her' room. She was half in and out of sleep, drifting slowly towards one, only to bounce closer to the other. Spike was getting worried. His hunger could hold off a day or two more before it started to get bad, but the slayer, she needed water, and food.

He was becoming afraid that they would never get out of here alive, beastie or no beastie. He glanced down at the slayer, and saw that she was finally asleep. While she slept, he went about exploring the house a bit further, hoping to find something to eat, or drink, at least.

The upstairs yielded nothing to him, but on the main floor, he became hopeful that the ancient faucets would work. He quickly made his way towards the dilapidated kitchen, and tried the faucets. Small spurts of brown colored sludge came forth after much protesting, then nothing.

Growling in frustration, Spike paced the small kitchen, stopping every now and again to kick the busted wood of the table and chairs. He saw a small bag on the counter during one of his passes through, and he grabbed at it.

All that came out of it, however, was one cockroach, now dead. He paced back and forth once more, and then he quickly made his way from the room. He found his way back towards the room with the gauntlet, and half wondered if it held a prize of any sort.

Eyes gleaming in anticipation of the task at hand, he opened the door to the dangerous room. The gears had stopped shortly after they had exited the room safely before. Now, however, with the opening of the door again, they were slowly winding up to start.

He looked across the room, and saw another door, and in front of it, a box on a low table. He glanced around at the many obstacles hanging dormant in the room, and took off at a dead run. He only got a few steps before things, blades and stakes mostly, were hurled in front of him, at him, and on him. He dodged most of the weapons, though.

The stakes were the only thing that worried him. He kept his eyes peeled for those as he moved his well-tuned muscular body through the obstacles. His jacket was caught several times, but he caught it back. The shirt covering his chest was ripped in more then one place.

Blood had started to drip in little rivulets down his nearly bared chest, but he ignored it, and watched the box. Spike kept his mind open and free as he dodged, readily anticipating each move before it happened. He was getting closer now, and could feel the gears in the room speeding up.

Just as he started to move forward, a large wooden stake came sailing straight at his heart from the ceiling in front of him. Growling, he dodged it, barely, but the bloody thing had nicked his arm, putting a large tear in his duster.

Growling, he laid low, coming from the floor. His foot stepped precariously, and his hands balanced his body, keeping him from falling to the stray on either side. As he was stepping, he heard a soft ching sound, and felt blinding pain at the dagger that had come up from the floor, and embedded itself into his foot.

***************

Buffy woke with a start, her dreams fading away to give way to the harsh reality of the house. She heard the low rumbling again, and it took her a few minutes to place it.

"Spike? There's that sound. what was that sound?" She asked, but heard no response. Growing worried, Buffy stood up, and looked around. She grabbed the oil lamp off the floor, and started to follow the sound of whirring gears.

***************

Spike thought he could hear blood pumping, a racing heart, but he ignored it as he pulled his foot free from the dagger. Cursing loudly, he gingerly set his aching foot back down, and then saw it. His opening.

Not thinking, he darted forward, the speed of an animal getting him through the rest of the gauntlet quickly. He barely felt anything, even as the many blades nicked at him again, drawing more blood.

Spike stood in the front, looking back towards the door. He was smirking at the room when he noticed a soft glowing light growing brighter as it came towards the room.

"Slayer, no! Stop!" Spike called it out before he even saw her, but he knew that it was she. He could smell her.

Buffy pulled to a stop just beyond the doorway. She looked at the bloodied Spike standing at the other end, and smiled. "You made it!"

Spike nodded, but shook his head as she started to come forward again. "Luv, don't step past that spot. I don't know if the room is triggered to go off again, or not. Let it wind down, and I'll come to you." He turned after the last part, and started to dig through the box.

Inside, there was food in the form of an apple, and for water there was one bottle of water, and one tiny bag of blood. He looked down at it, and drank it quickly, wishing there was more. It was enough to stave off the hunger for now, though.

Buffy watched him, and then looked curiously at the door. "Should you look to see what's behind door number one, Spike?" He glanced behind him, and shook his head.

"Gonna bring you food, first. You need it. And water. You can't go to much longer without the water, especially after all the fighting and sweating." He tucked the apple in one pocket, and the water in the other, and glanced at the gauntlet, as though measuring it up.

"Slayer, move. I don't know if it's gonna kick in or not, and I sure as hell don't need you in the way if it does." She chuckled softly at the 'Hey- listen-to-me-I'm-the-big-bad' tone he used. She stepped out of the way and waited.

He darted through quickly, making certain to stay up on his toes to avoid setting off any triggers that might be hidden in the room. He had a feeling that both the dagger and large stake were triggers, and he had no desire to repeat those treats.

He made it across without setting the stuff off, and as soon as he cleared the doorway, it slammed shut again. With a cocky smirk on his face, he handed Buffy the apple, and water, then sat down on the ground.

"Well, that looked easy. Next time I'm hungry, you gonna go back for me?" Buffy had a twinkle in her eye when she asked, then bit into the apple quickly. She wanted to save the water for as long as possible, and she had learned long ago that the natural juices found in fruit helped with hydrating.

He just groaned and covered his face.

The Itch

by Gilly Bean

Scent of a Woman

The house was quiet, had been for hours, and it was starting to drive Buffy up a wall. Her water was about one third gone, but she was making sure she saved some for later. The apple had sated her for a bit, but she could feel the familiar rumblings of hunger again.

Spike sat across the room from her, his eyes studying her. He could feel the very tiny beginnings of blood lust, and sitting across from him now, was the high end of blood, the very top of the blood mart. His lips were going dry just thinking about the taste of her blood.

Buffy stood up, and stretched her lean body upward. Her arms and legs were all cramping up from sitting for so long. Sparing just a glance at Spike, she walked over to grab one of the oil lamps. They were both getting dangerously low on oil, so they had doused one, and relied mostly on the light from the fireplace.

Having grabbed the lamp, Buffy walked out towards the kitchen. She felt the need to explore again, looking for anything they may have missed the first time around. Finding the kitchen again, Buffy looked through some of the cupboards.

It was only after she had looked around for a few moments that she noticed the 3-inch gap between the top of the cupboard and ceiling. Pulling a rickety chair over, Buffy climbed up to the counter, and walked along, running her hand blindly over the top of the hidden section.

Spike leaned against the doorway, watching her. He had given her a few moments, but when he heard her going through things, he followed the noise. He had a slight smile on his face as he watched her.

"Ouch!" Buffy gasped, pulling her hand down. Her finger was bleeding from a large gash on the pad of it.

Spike stiffened immediately, the smell of her blood hanging thick in the air. Buffy hadn't seen him yet as she slid down from the counter, her thin delicate finger in her puckered mouth.

She turned, and her eyes widened to see Spike standing there, his face vamped out.

"Sp-Spike? What's wrong?" Her voice was quiet and hesitant.

Rather then answering her, he walked close to her, and managed to control the raging demon. As he reached her, his face melted into his human visage. "Nothing's wrong, just smelled blood, that's all. Lemme see it." He pulled the finger slowly from her mouth, and saw the slice.

Over all, it wasn't to deep, but it was rather long. As he watched it, the slit skin formed a deep red line, and then the blood started to trickle down her finger. Looking up at her, he pulled the finger slowly into his mouth, and then shut his eyes.

Buffy's voice caught in her throat, wanting to yell out, to scream at him, but she couldn't. She felt his cool tongue as it lapped at the blood on her finger, and it sent shivers down to her toes.

She looked up at him, and saw that he was struggling to keep control over the demon. His face would start to shift, then would go back to human. She felt him starting to suck at the wound on her finger, and the feeling in the pit of her belly returned.

Finally, he pulled back, and looked at her. He frowned when his eyes came to hers, then he growled, and turned from her. Before she could say anything, he was gone from her sight.

Buffy decided that some space would be best, and she sat down on the rickety chair to take a deep breath.

*****

Spike went quickly out to the main hall, and then followed it around to the staircase. He took the stairs leading upward 2 and 3 at a time, and then buried himself into the room where the beastie had been.

Stupid sodden wanker, he thought to himself. What, you a fumbling fledgling, not having any control over your own demon? A bloody newborn? You stupid git. He angrily kicked out at the walls, continuing to curse to himself in his head.

Ah, cor, but her blood tasted like heaven, though, he thought. The sweet honey had given him an itch that his demon yearned to scratch. He could smell her arousal on the air, and he had been shocked that she wasn't fighting him when he had tasted her.

An itch, he told himself. That's all she bloody well is, a bloody itch to be scratched. Once he found his way out of this hellhole, he wouldn't look back. He'd done it once before, and damn it, he could damn well do it again.

But the taste, the feel of her against his lips. . . Cor, but he would go as mad as the damned hatter herself, Dru, if he didn't get out of here soon.

*****

Buffy finally stood, and ventured out to the main room they had camped out in. She didn't see him in there, which didn't really surprise her. The feeling in her belly was still there, which confused her.

He was the enemy, the Big Bad, a vampire, for crying out loud! She was the slayer; hence, she slayed demons like him! Cursing at herself, she went about the room, kicking out at the wall, much in the same fashion as Spike was upstairs.

The voice in her head kept protesting, saying that he wasn't the same as some of the demons she had killed in her day. It kept bringing up his love and devotion to Drusilla, but she just ignored it.

Her finger was still bleeding, and to staunch the scent she was giving off, Buffy tore off some of the material on the hem of her top, and tried to wrap it around the wound. It wasn't easy, but she was able to finally do it.

Unresolved Sexual Tension

Spike stealthily walked the hallway, and came to a silent stop at the top of the staircase. He could still feel her tiny finger in his mouth, still feel the warm fiery liquid as it slid down his throat, but most of all, he still had the raging lust burning a hole through him. He glared down towards the soft glow that indicated to him where she was.

He stepped carefully down the stairs one at a time, and made it to the bottom. Her scent hit him harder and harder the closer to her that he got, and it was all he could do to keep his demon in check. His inner turmoil was getting more persistent, and his mind kept growling the word MINE when he thought of the slayer.

It was a fairly normal thing for his demon to want the kill, but his demon was screaming for a mate, something he hadn't had since Dru. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You are a class A sodden wanker! He thought to himself as he eased his way into their shared room quietly.

Buffy looked up the instant she felt him, which was only half a second from the moment he entered the room. He didn't make any noise entering, but she knew he was there. The nervous fumbling in her stomach returned the instant that Buffy saw him. She tugged at her lower lip with her teeth, pulling the soft flesh into her mouth.

Dragging her eyes away from him, she forced herself to stare into the fire. The dancing flames rose up to lick at the wood held within. Her eyes focused on it, though it was hard, because all she wanted to do was look back at Spike. She had an almost primal urge inside of her, something as basic as an itch. Her body was trying to tell her that it knew what to do, but she would not listen.

"Slayer," Spike stated, rather then asked. Buffy turned her head, forcing herself to go slowly, and not whip around at the first sound of his voice.

"What, Spike?" Her voice was trembling slightly. He walked nearer, stopping in front of her. He looked down at her upturned face for a moment, and then kneeled so he was even with her. His blue eyes searched her hazel ones for a moment.

"Is your finger alright? Still bleeding?" He looked straight into her eyes the entire time he was talking. She started to shake her head no, but stopped, and held her wrapped finger up. It was still fairly bright, indicating that it hadn't stopped completely. Spike's gaze drifted slowly from her eyes to her mouth, and down the gentle curve of her neck, before stopping at the finger.

"Well, then, we'll have to keep an eye on it. What did you cut it on?"

"Not real sure, but it felt like an old rusted knife." His eyes widened at this bit of news, and he quickly unwrapped the bandage, which caused fresh blood to seep out of the wound.

"Rusty? Slayer, that's not a good thing, you know." He examined the wound, but saw no rust flecks in it. He hoped that was a good thing, but he wasn't certain. Wasn't like he was a doctor, he thought. As the blood pooled up, it slipped down his fingers, and his back stiffened when he looked down at it.

Buffy knew the instant his demon started fighting for release again. She could feel it emanating from him. Her eyes sought his, and she saw an unasked question in his icy depths. Without hearing it, she knew he was asking for permission to taste her again. Just the thought of it was enough to send a jolt through her system, and she found she was unable to deny him this.

Swallowing audibly, Buffy nodded her head, and closed her eyes when she felt him tugging her finger towards his mouth again. He slid the finger into the chilly wet opening, and let his tongue swish around it, cleaning off all the blood he could get. As he started to suck, Buffy moaned softly, then her eyes flew open in mortification.

He wasn't paying her any mind, however. His eyes were sealed shut, and she watched as the demon in him shifted, and came out. She got a bit scared and reluctant when she saw he wasn't trying to contain it, but he was being as gentle with her as he would be with fine china. His free hand worked its way up her arm, and around to the back of her neck.

He paused for an instant, and she felt her finger sliding from the velvety recess of his mouth. She watched him again, and saw his human was back in place. He leaned Buffy down, and before she could blink, his mouth was crashing on hers, nipping at the delicate flesh, plundering her mouth with an expert tongue.

He caught the moan coming from her mouth with his, and returned one of his own. He was lying practically on top of her, one hand behind her head, and the other running against her side, rubbing gently, and kneading the aching muscles in her side.

Buffy's leg bent at her knee to rub against his side, and his hand went straight to her thigh. He rubbed her skin through the material of her pants, as she rubbed his leg and side with her leg. He finally removed his lips from hers, and moved them downward towards her neck and jaw line. Tracing the delicate jaw line with his tongue, Spike found her ear lobe, and suckled it gently into his mouth.

Buffy's head tilted backward, and slightly to the side, which left her neck open. As he saw this, his demon started screaming for her blood, for Spike to make Buffy his. He was running almost completely on instinct then, and he vamped without realizing it. His mouth found her neck, and started to nip at it, gently first, then stronger and stronger.

When he felt her blood seeping from the scratches, he lapped it up like a little puppy. Her hands were wound around his neck now, urging him closer to her. Her legs parted completely, allowing for Spike to settle his body fully between them. She was pushing against his groin, rubbing herself against the hardness he had there.

Spike groaned then, and pulled back to look down at her. Her teeth had her lower lip trapped, and she was biting down gently on it. Her hazel eyes were hidden from his view behind the thin skin on her eyelids. When she felt him pull away, and nothing happened, she opened them to look up at him. "Spike. . ."

"Pet. . ."

His mouth was back on hers quickly. He was rubbing his entire body against hers, a gentle purring coming from him. His demon raged still, wanting her to accept him, should he claim her. It took all he could do to stop the demon from doing so, but he could hold it in check for now.

His deep purring surprised her. She had heard it on occasion from Angel, but had long since forgotten this vampire trait. Angel had explained that it happened with contentment. She looked at him, and saw him trying hard to control the demon again. Leaning up slightly, she pressed a warm hand against his skin. He broke from her, and opened his eyes to look down at her.

"Spike, let it out. . . Stop trying to fight it."

"Oh, luv, you don't know what you're saying. That's not something you want."

"Yes, it is." Her eyes were dead serious as she looked up at Spike, and after an instant, he knew she did want it. He let his visage slip, and the demon came roaring out like a wild animal. His fangs bared, he nuzzled at her neck, whimpering softly as the purr continued to emanate from him.

She let her head turn to the side, and silently offered her neck to him, though inwardly, she cursed herself, and begged herself to remember who she was. Her last thought before she felt the pierce of his fangs to her flesh, was her mind screaming at her to stake him. Then, all was lost, and she abandoned herself to the feeling.

*****************************************

Spike heard her words uttered softly, and saw the look in her eyes and knew that she wanted this, and that she wanted what would come from this. His demon surged forward as the purring vibrated his chest.

The smell, her unique scent, the blood, all of it was too much, and he let his fangs sink deeply in, melting her skin like butter on the 4th of July. Under him, Buffy whimpered slightly, and cried out his name. Her eyes were shut, and her mouth was opened slightly.

Buffy’s arms were lying back against the ground, her thin fingers grasping at the ground. She was desperately trying to find a way to keep her body on the ground, when all it wanted to do was float away. Spike’s hands were roaming along Buffy as he continued o softly suck at her neck.

Spike was in heaven. He must be, for that was the only explanation for the intoxicating blood surging through his veins, and the feeling of her soft flesh under his hard body. His body sung with tension, the vibes coming out as deep rumbling purrs. He finally pulled his mouth from the wound, and he let his tongue swirl softly against the wound.

Buffy’s legs parted, and found their own way around his, while her pelvis arched upward, eagerly seeking the friction his own could provide. As his lips trailed a silky smooth path down her throat, her hands finally left the grasping confines of the floor behind her, and wound their way into his hair. It was stiff, evidence of to much hair gel, but it was him, and it held his face and wondrous mouth to her.

Spike tugged at the collar of her shirt, and pressed ardent kisses along her collarbone, before dipping his mouth to the tops of her breasts. Buffy continued mewling soft sounds of pent up desire as she writhed under him.

***************

Travers looked to the screen, and saw what was going on. He knew, had known for some time now, that these two were the ones to fulfill the prophecy. For the longest time, the council had counted on Angel, and for that reason, had never done anything with him, but now he knew better.

His lips curled into a sardonic smile, and he pressed a button. “They are done, remove them.”

***************

Buffy felt as though her body was on fire, and the difference between the chilled skin and the heat burning under her skin was a carnal ancient feeling. She was acting in a licentious manner, her body screaming for more, while her mind half-heartedly tried to warn her of the dangers against this.

Spike’s mouth had made its way to her nipple, and as he took the tiny rosebud into his lips, she moaned loud. Her back arched up off the floor, an eager display meant to earn her more of his silken mouth around her tender flesh.

One of his hands wound its way under her, and supported her body to him as he sat up, his mouth never once breaking the desired contact with her skin. It may have felt like heaven to him, but it was also torture, plain and simple. Dru had taught him many forms of torture, as had Angelus, but they were nothing compared to the wondrous feeling that was named Buffy.

Buffy slid into his lap, locking her legs by the ankles around his back. Her neck arched, dropping her head back. Her soft blond hair brushed at Spike’s fingertips as he rubbed at her flesh. His fingers found the edge of her shirt, and started to urge it up and off of her slim body.

Buffy couldn’t comprehend his want for a moment, and then as realization dawned on her, she grasped the shirt with both hands, and tore it from her body. His fingers grazed her bare skin, sending jolts down her spin, and threatening to melt her on the spot. She brought her eyes level with his, and her small tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry hands.

Neither of them was aware or conscious enough to realize that there were others coming into the room until it was almost to late. Something at the back of Buffy’s mind urged her to look around. When she did, her eyes widened.

“Spike…” Her voice was soft, almost like she was frightened. It was all they had a chance to say before she was ripped from his arms, and he was held back from her. He vamped almost instantly, and a deep rumbling growl emanated from him as he watched her being dragged away, her top still bare, gleaming naked in the fire light for their leering eyes.

She started to struggle almost instantly as the two men in black fatigues held her tightly, and then hauled her from the room. “Spike!” She cried out over her shoulder as the twp dragged her.

Spike caught hold of one commando’s arms, and nearly tossed him through a wall. His demon was urging him forward, commanding that he save Buffy, that he save the woman who would be his mate. Spike was running on primal instincts now, and his primal urge was to kill.

The first who was unfortunate enough to get in his way was pulled close, and his neck broken in a matter of moments. 3 more stood their ground, and as Spike’s fisted hands beat two of them, the third struggled with his dart gun. Quickly, he shot the gun, and the dart inside shot out towards Spike. It landed right below his neck, on his back.

After a few more swings, Spike was sluggish. In a matter of minutes, Spike lie slumped on the ground, unconscious. The 3 commandos's picked him up, and dragged him off towards the locked room.

***************

Travers watched closely as the two were brought into the basement where he was. A room was set up in the back corner, with a twin bed, a dresser, a small bathroom, and glass walls. Buffy was waiting in there on the bed when Spike was dragged in.

He was dropped unceremoniously on the floor and she quickly went to him. Around her chest, she had a blanket pulled around her, one of the first things she had done when she was dropped in this room. Beyond the glass walls, everything was black. Buffy placed a hand on Spike’s head, and felt him.

An odd thing to do for a vampire, but she had done it from reflex, her mind telling her to check him for a fever. She wasn’t surprised when it came away a bit cooler then it had been before hand. She couldn’t get him to the bed, so she brought him the pillow instead, and slid it under his head.

Buffy screamed out, pounding her fists on the glass, crying for an answer. Finally, she tired, and laid down next to Spike, resting her head on his chest. She soon fell into a deep exhausted slumber, her mind undisturbed by dreams of any kind.

***************

Travers watched Buffy, but couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised over her actions, either upstairs in the house, or down here, in her cell. He watched, and then leaned back to kick his legs up on the newly cleared desk. He knew they couldn’t see outside of the cell, and he was glad for that, for he didn’t think she would be to happy with him otherwise.

***************

Spike woke slowly, his foggy mind meandering as it cleared away the cobwebs from the corners. He realized quickly that he was on a cold floor of some sort, but he could feel a pillow under him, and the slayer on him. Not on him completely, he noticed after another moment, but rather, she was using him as her own pillow.

He glanced around the room as his arms sought to hold her, as though to assure himself that she was really there. He remembered the time before. Had it been last night? This morning? For that matter, what time was it now? His mind was still blurry as he tried to recall everything.

He could remember her being ripped from his arms, and he knew he fought hard to get to her, but then everything slowed, and blurred, and then finally faded away. He glanced down at her then, and saw that her shoulder were bare, and he remembered her being topless when she was dragged away.

Spike slowly sat up, easing Buffy from him as he did. Finally, he was up, and she lay curled on the ground using the pillow, and curled into her blanket. He took survey of the room, and saw a dresser. Not wasting any time, he crossed to it, and opened the drawers. Inside, he found an assortment of clothes.

All of them looked like they were either hers, or at least her size, so he was glad for that. After making out the glass walls, he had no desire for anyone else to be seeing her body. Spike pulled open another drawer and found several pairs of jeans and a few of his shirts. Growling lowly under his breath, he slammed the drawer shut.

He made his way over to the small bathing area. The cell itself was set up almost like a hotel room, but with just the one bed. He found several books he had been reading on the nightstand, and several magazines that must have been Buffy’s. He barely managed to contain the demon in him as he stalked around the room.

Spike knew that the wankers must have been watching and preparing for both of them for a while now. He heard Buffy groan slightly, and in an instant, he was back at her side. She opened her eyes slowly, and looked up at him. Pulling her blanket tight around her shivering body, she sat up.

“How’re you feeling, Slayer?” He asked her softly

“I could answer that, but I’d rather not. God, it’s freezing in here!” She huddled in the blanket, then went to the bed, and slid under the thick comforter that was on the bed. Spike went to the dresser again, and pulled out a thick sweatshirt and a pair of matching sweat pants.

She looked at the clothes Spike sat down, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Those are mine, Spike.” She looked from the clothes back up to Spike.

“Yeah, figured as much. Some of my clothes are here as well, and my bloody books. Wankers must have nicked my stuff when they got me. Bloody pillocks.” He was pacing back and forth again, and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

Buffy felt her stomach starting to rumble as she slid under the covers to put her sweatshirt on over her chilly body. She came out from under the covers with the top on, while her hands worked to shed herself of the grubby bottoms. She quickly pulled on the clean pants, and smiled in relief.

“God, I’m starved Where’s the food around this joint?” She walked around the small room, opening drawers, examining cupboards, and poking at the nooks and crannies. She grumbled in complaint at the lack of food.

“Ok, if they’re gonna put us up in Hotel Hell, the least they could do is FEED US!”

Spike continued his pacing. The small space was starting to bug him. He wasn’t claustrophobic; he just hated to be confined, especially when he had energy to burn. Buffy’s ramblings reached his ears, and he stopped to look at her.

“Well, they did provide me with food,” Spike said with a lewd wink towards her. She stood gape mouthed for a moment, then realized he was teasing her, and laughed weakly.

***************

Spike was lying on the bed, a book propped in front of his face. Buffy had taken his place in the center of the room, pacing back and forth. Among her belongings, she had found a deck of cards, and they had played that for a bit, but enough was enough. They had been cooped up for days all together, and the forced ‘vacation’ was really starting to grate on her nerves. She felt her strength coming back, though, so that was a good thing.

Spike laughed softly at a part in the book he was reading, but stopped reading when he detected the slayer glaring at him. “What? I can’t enjoy myself, just cause you can’t?” She snorted, and turned away, then resumed her pacing.

***************

Spike dealt the cards slowly, feeling each one as he went. She picked them up, and started doubtfully at him. With a smug smile marring his face, he carefully went over the rules again. They had run out of card games to play nearly an hour before, so now it was teach the slayer night at the Buffy and Spike house of love.

Neither was paying much attention to the surrounding glass, so when the door opened, they both jumped. A young girl walked in, her arms laden with a trey, and a small bag. She quickly sat both down, and hightailed it from the room before they had a chance to react.

Buffy smelled the air, and hopped up. She pulled the cover off the trey, and squealed with joy. There on the tray, two plates filled to the brim with French toast, eggs, bacon, and toast sat. There was also two glasses of orange juice, two granola bars, and two apples. Spike picked up both the granola bars and both the apples, and placed them in a drawer for later.

Buffy ate her food quickly at first, but slowed when Spike warned her against filling her starved belly to fast. “What? Whhhhy?” She whined to him.

“Slayer, you eat to fast, and you are gonna taste that food twice. You want that?” She sullenly shook her head no, and as soon as he looked down at his plate of food, she stuck her tongue out at him. Their plates had names on them, and Spike quickly found that his juice and his syrup were laced strongly with human blood.

When he commented on it, Buffy pushed her plate away, and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, ewwww… You just had to tell me that while I was eating, didn’t you?”

After finishing their breakfast, they examined the large brown paper shopping bag. Inside, Spike was surprised to find a small plug in clock, a wall calendar, and two board games. Opening the calendar, Spike noticed that for the month, several days were crossed off; leading him to believe it was 3 days past their confinement.

They put the calendar up as some sick reminder of just how long they had been in captivity, and set the clock on the nightstand. According to the clock, it was early morning.

Buffy felt herself growing tired, and laid down on the bed. Spike looked over at her for a moment, and then slid in next to her on the tiny bed. She glared at him half-heartedly but allowed him to snuggle up to her.

******

Buffy woke slowly, her mind groggy as it struggled to grasp just why she would be feeling warm and safe. She slowly registered a pair of arms holding her, and she thought hard for a moment. It was not until her body registered that the arms holding her were cold. Down right chilly, in fact. She groaned, and pulled back slightly. Spike lay beside her, sleeping for all intent and purposes. To her it almost looked like he was dead, but no, wait, he was.

She sighed softly as her belly rumbled loudly. Dragging herself from the bed, she went to the small drawer that Spike had used to put food in. She took out a granola bar, and slowly ate it, then decided to take a shower and get cleaned up, as long as Spike was still asleep.

She grabbed her clean clothes, and shut the flimsy excuse for a door, and turned the hot water on. She placed her hand under the steady stream, waiting until it was just the right temperature, then removed her clothes, and slid beneath the steaming water. She sighed softly and leaned against the wall for a moment, then started to wash.

*

Spike woke a few moments later, the sound of the shower having roused him just enough to realize Buffy was no longer by his side. He groaned softly at the loss of her heated flesh, and sat up in the bed. Just after he sat up, the door opened, and the lady walked in with food. As she did, Spike tensed himself, readying himself to pounce on her. She must have noticed however, because as soon as his lean muscular body leapt into action, she was gone.

He prowled near the door, growling in a predatory manner as he watched the door with a hawk like vigilance. It was not until he could smell Buffy that he turned and looked. His demonic visage had slipped forward as he paced, but at the site of Buffy at the bathroom door, it melted off quickly, leaving behind only his human features. His tension filled form relaxed visibly as she came nearer to him.

Buffy smiled tentatively at Spike, and then noticed the food in front of her. Still hungry from earlier, she quickly took stock in the tray they had brought. It was another breakfast trey, this one consisting of French toast, a small omelet, and crunchy hash browns. There was syrup, ketchup, and salt on the tray as well. Buffy wasted no time in grabbing her tray and quickly eating the offered food.

Eyeing the food warily, Spike looked as though he expected it to harm him in some fashion. He then proceeded to the door and resumed his prowling while he tried to focus on how to manage an escape. He could only stand so long with the bloody slayer, and his mind started to short circuit. He needed air, fresh air, and fresh blood.

At the mere thought of blood, his eyes sought hers out, only to find her completely engrossed in the meal before her. He went over and sniffed his food, and found he was not at all surprised to smell blood. It was not fresh, however, and it was not slayer blood. He became ravenous for it now, like a drunk craves the bottle, and an addict craves his next hit. Both would anticipate the next one before the current one was even gone, and he was no better.

Buffy sat oblivious as she ate, happily unaware of Spike’s train of thought. She unconsciously turned her head to the side and leaned it back to glance at the clock, which presented her bare pale throat to his bloodthirsty eyes. As her eyes took in the small clock, her fingers came up to gently brush a stray hair away from it. Her delicate fingers brushed at the soft hair, glancing against the vein he so desired.

Spike growled audibly as he averted his longing gaze from her throat, all the while continuing to pace. Enough was enough, however, and he quickly tore into the food. He was trying hard to make certain that his veins had as much blood in them as possible, so he would stop looking at Buffy as a meal. His train of thought stopped him dead for a moment.

Just when had he stopped looking at her as food? That is all she was meant to be to him, food. A sodden happy meal on legs. She should not mean anything more to him then that. Fresh food. Slayer blood. Bloody addictive bitch. He looked back at her, and lunged suddenly, trying to prove to himself that he was still in charge, and that he was still the big bad.

Spike landed swiftly, his hands grasping at her throat as the impact sent Buffy sprawling to the floor. She yelped with surprise and began to frantically flail with tightly clenched fists. Her eyes were wide; panic was setting into her as her heart beat a bloody tattoo in his mind. He could smell it, her fear, her blood, and her… was that arousal? He paused for a moment to gather his wits, and it was all the time she needed to throw him off her.

He went flying backwards, and she pulled herself to a standing position.

“What the HELL was that for?!” The slayers voice screeched out over the small room, echoing loudly in the confines. Her ragged breath hitched as she pulled in great amounts of air, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. Buffy stared at him, her eyes wild and bright. She looked quickly around the room, trying to find a weapon, anything at all that would stop Spike if she needed to.

As he prowled in front of her again, Spike’s face slowly resumed its human visage. He took in a deep breath, damning himself for his human tendencies. He halted the breath, mid drag, and glared around him. His mind was working furiously, trying to cope with his new situation, his apparent lack of control when it came to Buffy. It upset him, knowing that she could weasel so easily into him.

“That, slayer, was showing you that I’m not the little puppy you thought I was. Get used to it, and fear me, because I refuse to play like I’m Peaches, just to satisfy your itch.” His voice hummed with low energy, as though he were merely waiting for another opportunity to pounce.

Buffy stepped backwards a few steps, her hands clenched at her sides as she breathed in deep steadying breaths of oxygen. Her eyes burned as she looked towards him. “Spike, calm down. I will stake you, don’t make me do that.” Her voice was more steady then she felt, calm almost, quiet and even as she glared at him prowling.

Spike calmed again, almost instantly regretting his actions. His mind was still whirling away, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what was happening to him, but his veins sang for her blood, sang for him to take her and be over with it all. “Bu- Buffy? What’s happening?”

The Itch

by Gilly Bean

Chapter 16

It had been nearly 2 weeks since the first incident, and Spike had done it several more times in that time. They never talked about it afterwards, but when it happened, it was terrifying. The last time, she had come close to being drained.

Buffy could feel the fangs on her neck still, and even though he was vamped out and lost in the demon, his mouth had been gentle when it found the skin that it sought out. He had calmed almost instantly when he felt the pulse beating beneath him. She was so attuned to him that when he calmed, she had as well, and before she knew what she was doing, Buffy was allowing him to drink.

He had stopped after just a few pulls on the sweet elixir, but if he had still been out of it, there was no telling what might have happened. Buffy had tried to talk to him about it afterwards, but he just shot her a look, and retreated into himself. That was 2 days ago by the calendar.

Spike watched her sleep now, and his hand brushed against the soft hair on her forehead. They had not gotten past the attacks physically. There had been no more kissing, and certainly nothing any farther then that. He did not miss it nearly as much as he missed the talking, the trust.

Buffy never said that she didn’t trust him, but she was weary around him, and he could tell she was getting tired from the constant guard she kept up. It was wearing her down. She had taken to sleeping more and more, and some times, he was hard pressed to get her out of the bed.

The door opened, and Spike’s attention was drawn sharply towards it. Expecting the girl, he was mildly surprised to see a man instead. He looked ready to piss himself, and Spike took full advantage by vamping out and lunging forward. The man had his back against the sealed door as quick as he could, and Spike was shocked, thinking he would have left.

A sudden movement came from the man, and Spike found his arm had a hypodermic needle sticking from it. He registered the needle just before his body recoiled in pain. He lay on the floor, his body writhing in pain. The nervous man was able to step forward now, though he was extremely cautious still.

Spike watched as the man walked closer to the bed, and through the pain, he forced himself forward, and brought the man down in a tackle. The man came down hard, and gripped his head in pain as it hit the hard ground.

“Stay away from her!” His growl was fierce as Spike pulled the needle from his arm, still half filled with a clear liquid. “What in bloody hell is this shit?” The man cowered from him. He'd n told that the needle would sedate the vampire, and it was the only reason he agreed to go into the room.

The council had something to inject into Buffy. It would not hurt her, but it was needed to get her into the position they had to achieve. They had to make sure she was receptive vampire, and would welcome him to her neck, or the attachment would never form, and they would not fight together. The prophecies fore told of a vampire, brought from the dark to serve beside the great slayer, to bring light to the mouth of hell. They were the pair. They had to be.

Spike lunged forward again, and dragged his aching body towards Buffy. She slept on still, though he could tell she would be waking soon. In his last lucid moment, he covered her body with his own, and promptly passed out.

Buffy woke as Spike covered her body with his own. She gasped and looked at him. His eyes were dull as they closed. She lay there for a moment, before it registered that something was making noise in the room still.

The guy held himself still, and looked up towards the bed, where the vampire was. He heard nothing until the girl, Buffy, softly said the vampire’s name.

“Spike?” After another moment or two, Buffy sat up on the bed, and looked around the room. She did not see him at first, but she could feel something, or more accurately, someone. She felt uneasy, and finally, her gaze went downward. Just as it did, however, he leaped upward, a second syringe aimed and ready.

He had a feeling he would be getting the ass kicking of his life after he injected her, but he knew his job, and he knew what had to be done. She was mostly asleep, and her response time wasn’t what it should have been, so it only took a bit of wrestling for him to jab the exposed needle into her side.

Buffy howled as the burning liquid seared her veins, and she dropped back to the bed before tumbling off it. She clawed at her skin, leaving bloody scrapes along where the fire flamed out of control inside of her.

The man stood, and watched apprehensively, before he backed up and hit the door. Moments after his back connected with the door, it opened, and he tumbled out of it. He was immensely glad that his job was done, and that he lived through it.

*

Spike woke first, and looked around slowly, his cautious gaze settling finally on the still form lying on the floor. He could smell her blood, and could just about taste it, but he was also relieved to find that it was only scratches, just surface wounds. Spike wasted no time in sitting next to her.

“Buffy? Come on slayer, I need you to open those pretty green eyes.” He sat her up, and lightly smacked at her face, and before long, she was blinking her eyes and moaning softly.

“It ‘urts…” She mumbled out softly. He tried to look her over, but to him, nothing serious appeared to be wrong. She did not seem to have anything broken, nor was anything bruising or bleeding beyond the scratches she had caused herself.

Spike cradled her small form to his own, and gently rocked her. He whispered soft words into her ear, and his hand smoothed down the silken strands of her hair. “Where’s it hurt, baby?”

“Inside… he… put something in me… it burns…”

Spike closed his eyes and nodded finally. “It’ll be alright, baby. We’ll make sure you feel better.” Spike said to her in a gentle voice that belied his inner torment at the thought that someone had hurt her, and that he had been unable to stop it.

Chapter 17

Spike smoothed his trembling hand over her sweat soaked brow, and brought the damp cool rag back to it, wiping off the sweat as much as possible. Buffy had been sick for nearly a day now, ever since they had injected her with the unknown serum. She had just felt shaky, almost like she was hungry, but then a fever had come, and now, it was trying to break.

Hopefully, its a sign that the fever was breaking, he thought. He stared down at her pale face, and felt uneasy. He pulled back from her, and started to run his hands across his somnolent face.

Hurting, razor-sharp and livid, filled his senses suddenly, sending him sprawling as he clutched his body tightly with his arms. He screamed out suddenly, but even as soon as it started, it was finished already. He sat up quickly, and glanced at Buffy, who had woken up at his scream.

“Spike?” Her voice was gritty with the sickness that had threatened to ravish her. “Spike, it hurts.” Buffy sounded tired and on the verge of tears as she looked at him. He was at her side quickly, smoothing a cool hand over her sweat-slicked forehead.

He murmured softly in her ear, and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head. “Shhh… just rest, love. It will end soon.” She looked up at him before nodding and closing her eyes.

*********

Quentin Travers was mad. They all knew it, and they all knew why. That stupid man had given Buffy too much of the treatment, excessively much, in reality, and it was not agreeing with her system in the least. The man accountable was already gone, and not very likely to be welcomed back with open arms.

“Find out what to do for her, and find out NOW!” Travers barked as he paced back and forth, his gaze settling on the monitor in front of him. “She does us no good dead!”

Just then, a young man came running into the diminutive room. “Sir! The treatment, the serum… It will not do any long lasting things to her. It should work its way from her system within 3 days if she were normal. I am figuring with her accelerated healing, it should not be more then a few hours yet, at the most. It is not an allergic response. It’s how she should, but with the added dose, she’s just showing more signs then a normal person.” The young scientist was breathing heavy from the running around he had done to ascertain the effects.

Travers nodded, and dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. “Get her some food and juice, I need her strong.” His voice lost some of the sharp edge of anger, but it still was not a voice to dispute.

*********

Spike kissed her head and noticed that she was neither burning nor clammy anymore, and thanked a God he had no conviction in for her recuperation. She was sleeping soundly now, as well.

The soft gentle hum of her breathing filled the small room with a lullaby. Spike curled up next to her on the bed, holding her loosely around the waist, pulling her softly back towards his own tepid body. When she was fit snuggly against his side, Spike’s eyes closed in exhaustion.

************

Buffy woke up feeling content, and thirsty. She felt the heavy arm of Spike’s weighing across her belly, and she carefully picked it up to move it. After she wiggled from his grasp, she sat up carefully and slowly. Her head was still pounding just a bit as she did.

Standing up on shaky legs, Buffy made her way over to where a trey sat. A pitcher of apple juice was on one side, and a dark pitcher filled with some dark red punch. Buffy sat down, and suddenly, she realized how very ravenous she was. A sandwich sat on one plate, and she started to eat, but that thirst was not going way.

As she finished the sandwich, Buffy poured some apple juice, but it was not taking care of her thirst. She caught the scent of the punch, and smiled as she poured it. It tasted a bit funny, but it seemed to be doing something for the thirst she felt.

Spike woke with the oddest feeling he had ever felt, or at the very least, most recently felt. It felt like he was feeding, and he felt his blood thirst dissipating as he sat there. It was then that he glanced to the side, and saw Buffy drinking juice and picking up a sandwich from the table. He shook off the feeling, and walked over to her.

“You feeling better, pet?” He asked as he smiled down at her. He could smell the blood in his pitcher of juice, but for once, it was not giving him an overwhelming urge to feed. Spike shook the feeling off, and started to study Buffy’s complexion. She had started to lose her tan in the time they were stuck here.

“Yeah, I was just really thirsty!” Buffy reached over and started to pour the punch into her glass. Spike watched without thinking about it for a moment, and then a thought that was nagging his mind came rushing forward.

“Pet, no! That’s blood!” Spike cried out as she started to bring the juice to her mouth. It stopped mid way there, and she turned to stare at him. After a moments pause, Buffy sat the glass down calmly,

She turned to look at Spike for a moment, then jumped up from the chair, and ran to the bathroom. A moment later, he could hear her retching up her meal. He started to feel the blood lust again, and thought it odd, when only moments before, he had felt full. Shrugging, he sat down and finished off the freshly poured glass of blood punch in front of him.

A few minutes later, Buffy came out, still looking pale, but also looking a bit cleaner. She had washed her face off with cold water, and ran hot water over her arms to still the violent shaking she had been feeling. She saw Spike sitting at the table drinking the mug, and she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth as she closed her eyes.

“Spike, could you please make that thing go away?”

“Pet, I need to eat, just the same as you. I will drink quietly, promise. Then, I’ll be all done.” He tried not to laugh over the situation, knowing how it had caused her some bad vibes. “Now, care to tell me why you were drinking my blood?”

“No, actually, I don’t.” She turned and lay back on the bed to stare blankly up at the ceiling. Spike watched bemusedly, and smiled her way before looking back at the tray of food. He picked through the food laced with blood, but his hand kept straying towards Buffy’s food. He had a gnawing feeling in his stomach that he did not remember ever having felt.

Without realizing it, he snatched up the last half of the plain sandwich, and started to devour it quickly. The gnawing started to abate as he ate, but he could still feel it, so he moved on to her apple.

As Buffy lay on the bed, she could feel her hunger slowly going away as she let her dreams drift in and cloud her mind with sleep.

Chapter 18

It had begun; the two were merging at a subconscious level. He knew from watching their moves, watching how they seemed to want what the other needed and craved. Travers watched, and waited. One more day, two at the most, and they would have a formidable fighting team for the council. Travers looked at the two in the room, and started to bide his time.

*

Spike glanced back towards the bed, where Buffy lay sleeping. She had been tired still, but the drug in her system was gone now, and her body was just recuperating. He went over and sat down on the edge of the bed while looking at her tiny form. As Spike leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead, suddenly he struck with vivid images of her friends, and of him. It was disorienting, the images were flashing in and out so quickly that he barely had a chance to register just what he had seen. The images started to slow, and blend in an odd movie like way.

Dark and dank, it was defiantly dark and dank, Buffy thought inanely, before turning to look away from Riley. Her mossy eyes filled with unshed tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. Buffy glanced back towards Riley, and whimpered softly.

“I didn’t want to kill him. I didn’t mean to.”

“Buff, what are you talking about, of course you meant to, he’s an evil soulless thing.” His voice was soothing, more so then sounded right coming from his mouth. She turned to look away again, and closed her eyes.

“No, he isn’t. You are. This is not right he is not dead. He is here, with me. He always will be.” Buffy began rocking backing forth, as her arms snaked around her body, and hugged herself tightly.

Spike felt her fear, and wrapped his arms around her. He held her close and tight to him, and murmured softly in her ear, while trying to erase the pain she felt, and he subsequently felt. It was so real, everything she had projected, he felt.

As she rocked back and forth, Buffy could feel the change, she felt the soft wind as it kissed her cheek, the warm sun as it browned her nose. Buffy could hear the birds chirping, and people murmuring softly among them selves. She let her eyes open slowly, as if afraid that her senses were lying to her.

Warm bright sunlight, soft pale roses, and beautiful lilacs greeted her sight. Tilting her head back to a normal angle, and her green eyes met stormy blue emotion filled ones. A smile lit up her face as she took in his very much alive features. He leaned down to kiss her, but just before his lips landed on hers, he whispered softly, “I love you, Buffy.” Her hand reached up to press against his chest, and she was struck by the déjà vu.

Spike whispered softly as he held her, “I’m here with you. I always will be.” The dream kept whispering through his mind as he spoke quietly.

Spike whispered softly as he held her, “I’m here with you. I always will be.” She smiled up at him, and nodded.

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

“Not read it, love, I just know.”

Buffy felt warm and cocooned as she slowly slipped from sleeps silky grasp. When she opened her eyes, green met blue in a silent look. His eyes crinkled up at the corners slightly when he smiled at her, she noticed. He saw that when she was concentrating hard, her forehead would wrinkle just barely. He found he was having a hard time looking into her eyes now, after living her dream, and not pulling her close enough to kiss her.

“Morning, Slayer.” He said softly to her, a small smile playing against his lips. He pulled back some, and slide back from the bed until he hit the edge. Uncurling from his position, Spike stood up, and held a hand out to Buffy.

“Wanna tell me what you were dreaming? Because I have a sneaky suspicion, I already know what happened in it. So, ducks, share a thought?”

Buffy sat up, and stifled a yawn as she studied the man in front of her, no scratch that, he is a vampire, she thought. “You were in it, I think, but it felt weird. Almost real, I think.” Spike nodded patiently while listening to her. “Riley… oh, god, Riley was there! He… wait… No, I did it. I killed you.” Her voice drifted off in horror as her hand came up to cover her mouth, which shaped an O.

“Buffy, luv, it’s alright. It was a dream, nothing more. However, I came back, did I not? I am here with you, and I-” He stopped short of saying the final words, but was not quite certain as to what caused him to stop. “Slayer, you really think I’d let you get the best of me? Come now, you know better then that.”

Buffy glanced towards him, and finally nodded. The look of apprehension left her face, and she watched him quietly. “Of course I know that.” She looked over at the few leftovers on the tray, and frowned. “I’m thirsty. Can you get me some juice please?”

Spike nodded and went over to pour Buffy the last of the juice in her pitcher, and brought the cup back over to her. She held it to her lips and quickly drank it down, but found that it did not quench her thirst. She thrust the cup back to Spike, and shook her head. “It didn’t help.”

Frowning, Spike went into the bathroom, filled the cup up with water, and handed it back to the slayer. She drank this cup with equal fervor, and handed it back to him. “God, it almost hurts, I’m so thirsty. Could you get me more?” Spikes frowned again, glanced back at his concoction on the table, and then back at the slayer. Painful thirst, he thought. He knew that well, when the blood lust hit, he would feel it painfully so.

“Yeah, slayer, I’ll get you more.” He watched as she laid back on the bed, and shut her eyes, then went over to his ‘juice’, and poured half a glass before going into the bathroom, and mixing water into it. Saying a quick prayer that she not notice what she drank, Spike took the cup back to the slayer. He apprehensively watched while she sat up and brought the mix to her lips, before downing it quickly. She took in a deep breath and smiled weakly.

“That helped a bit, I guess, but I still feel so dry still.”

“Um, Buffy, luv? I think we need to talk.”

Chapter 19

Buffy looked at Spike who was pacing across the floor. He stopped and poured himself a glass of blood, and quickly sucked it down. Turning back towards Buffy, he watched her eyes for a moment, judging quietly what she might or might not do to him.

“What about, Spike?”

“Buffy, do you feel better now? Are you so thirsty?” He was hedging around the question, could see it himself, but he was not about to blindly leap towards her with out at least first showing her where he was coming from. Finally, he stopped pacing, and came to a stop before her.

“Yeah, I feel better now, why?” Her voice was soft, but questioning as she looked up towards him.

“Buffy, that was blood I finally gave you to drink. You said it was painful, and that is what I was like at first. It hurts badly when blood lust starts to hit, and nothing else will take care of it. You drank water, and it didn’t help at all, but the blood did.” Buffy’s eyes had grown wide while Spike talked, and she almost looked like she was going to be sick, but she refrained from that yet. “I think…. I think these bloody wankers are doing something to us, making us switch, or something. Hell, I do not know what it is. I woke up hungry, but when you drank the blood, I wasn’t hungry anymore.”

Buffy nodded as she thoughtfully nibbled at her lower lip. “How do they… how does that happen? I mean, they did not do anyt- Oh, god, they gave me that shot! Do you think that had something to do with it? Oh god, am I going to be wanting to taste blood for the rest of my life?” Buffy sat up unexpectedly, and started to ramble loudly. “I can’t just go back to my life as a blood sucking thing! I just can’t! We need to fix it!”

“Now, now, love. Careful what we say, might hurt a guy’s feelings.” Spike sneered, before turning to walk away from her. In the enclosed space, however, it was hard to do before hitting the opposite wall. Spike snarled with a low growl as he paced back and forth on the floor. “Slayer, grow up, you think I want to spend my time attached to your hip? Don’t bloody well think so.”

Both were busy arguing loudly when the door behind them opened, and revealed the man of the hour, Quentin Travers. Travers walked in slowly, and with a sneer on his lips, the door closed behind him, leaving just the three of them in the space. Both Buffy and Spike turned sharply towards him at the sound of the door shutting.

“You! You miserable little wretch! Didn’t you learn the last time not to fuck with me?” Buffy screeched out as she stood and suddenly pounced on him. Spike hesitated only a second before they had Quentin restrained. Buffy glared at him as she started to pace before him. Spike had his fangs poised on Travers neck, waiting to plunge his weapon in at any moment. He could smell it, the fear. It rolled off his victim, wave after wave of the sweet ambrosia.

Buffy stopped suddenly, and turned to face her… what, her watcher? That wasn’t right, she thought as she shook her head. “What were you trying to pull here, this time? I’ve started getting my strength back. What is going to happen if I decide to get, oh, say, angry?” Buffy lunged in, and faked that she was going to throw a punch at his face, and Travers squealed as he jerked back just slightly. The slight pinch and the pain told him that he very nearly impaled himself on Spike’s fangs.

“So, talk to us. Explain what’s happening to me, and to Spike. And make it good and fast. I think Spike’s getting hungry for human blood. Or, in you’re case, less then human.” She glared at him, her arms folded across her chest.

“Little lady, you have no idea what you’re dealing with here. You would do best to let me go now, before you bring down any more trouble.”

“Oh? You really think your little friends can get in here before my new friend Spike can use his teeth?” As if to emphasize the point, Quentin felt Spike’s fangs scraping along his skin. Barely suppressing a whimper, Travers glanced up towards Buffy and remained grimly silent. She raised her eyebrows, then looked up at Spike, who in turn, scraped harder, and started to press his sharp fangs against the tender flesh over the jugular.

“All right! You want to know what’s happening? You think you can handle something like this? Well, all right, missy. You are your friend here are sharing minds and to an extent, bodies now. He is thirsty for juice, and you want blood. There’s a simple solution. You drink the juice, he drinks the blood, and it goes away. I have been told you will get used to it in time. However, the reason we did it to you, is that you two will become a very strong fighting duo now. You will anticipate each other’s moves, you will feel the danger, and you will react accordingly. And before you ask, you cannot change it. Only death will free you now.”

Buffy stepped back as the words registered. Travers sneered at her while holding deathly still in Spike’s morbid embrace. Her eyes drifted to Spikes, and she thought, Oh god, I am… merging with SPIKE?!?! Without taking her eyes from his, she stepped forward again, until she was standing right in front of Spike and Travers again. She was stopped, however, when she heard quiet plainly, What, you think this is a picnic for me, blondie? Buffy’s eyes went to Spike’s lips when she heard the voice, but she saw that they were not moving.

Blinking, she stumbled back, and landed on her ass with a thud. She turned her gaze up to Spike’s, and tried to think to him again, but he was not hearing it, or it stopped working, because she did not get a response from him. Spike motioned to Travers with his eyes, and without thought, Buffy nodded and glanced away while Spike sank his fangs deeply and brutally into Travers neck.

As Travers felt his life slip away, the main door opened, and two guards came running in. In their haste, the door was left open behind them, and while their attention was diverted to Spike, Buffy edged backwards. You get the hell out of here, and do not look back. I will find a way, love. She paused only briefly upon hearing the thoughts of Spike echoing in her head.

Running through the door, she came to a short stop in a new room with all sorts of video camera’s set up, and red buttons. She glanced quickly around, but found no other people in here. She flipped a light switch, and the small room became bathed in light. She turned to look back into the room, and for the first time noticed that she could see into the entire room from there. Pausing only briefly, she started looking at the button labels. She found the one she was looking for, and pressed it, while calling out for Spike in her head.

A quick glance up showed that he had heard her, and was even now tossing the dead body of Travers aside, and shoving the two guards into the bathroom. He quickly ran to the door just as she slammed the button down, shutting and locking the door behind Spike. He glanced at her, and before she knew it, she was pressed hard against the wall, her arms around his neck, and her legs tight around his waist. And then, he was kissing her for all it was worth, and she could taste the coppery blood on him.

AN: This chapter is strictly NC-17! If you are not old enough, you are not supposed to be reading this material. However, this being the internet, I can’t physically stop you from reading. I will trust that you use your best judgment in reading this. Also, it will obviously not be posted on Fanfiction.net. It isn’t essential to read this section to understand what happens next, however, as it will be explained fully in the following chapter. This is just pure Spuffy Lovin! Also, it’s a lot longer then it normally would be.

Big thanks to my husband for helping me write this chapter. After the 6th paragraph, he and I started exchanging back and forth, with him writing a paragraph, then me, and so on.

Chapter 20

Buffy whimpered deep in her throat as Spike’s arms held her cradled against the wall. Now this is what I call between a rock and a hard place, she idly thought. Spike pressed upward against her core, and all thought and reason fled from her mind. His lips were so chilly, yet able to create such a scorching fiery heat at the same time. His mouth traveled down her throat, and stopped at the hollow to bountifully place kisses upon it. After an instant, he started to suck at it, soothingly at first, then harder and harder.

Emotions dissolved into one another, and she knew she would be lost if he continued to use his tongue so knowledgeably on her. And it was only a promise of things to come, she heard in her head. Damn you, you have invaded everything now! She screamed at him in her head, even as she tilted it backward to allow him better access to the soft delicate flesh there. Moving lower, Spike's lips played mischievously over to her collarbone. He was alternately sucking, nibbling, and reigning adoring kisses upon her body.

Dragging his calloused hands downward on her sides, he hooked his thumbs around the inside of her shirt, and began tugging it upward. Her hands started to tug at his own clothing, while her soft pink mouth placed light kisses along the top of his ear. He could almost feel her temperature warming him from the outside in, heating his undead body. The passion in her was building, and Buffy’s body was answering of it's own will. Thoughts were no longer logical, and she quit trying to make sense out of this madness. She could feel the rigid wall against her back, which was now bare, and cool air seeped in; hardening her nipples under the thin bra she wore.

Suddenly, the air was brushing against her entire chest, as Spike withdrew his own body from her. Buffy moaned and reached for him, but he just pushed her hands up into the air, and hauled the shirt from her. Tossing it to the side, Spike’s mouth was on her collarbone again, even as his fingers delicately traced the bands of the bra around to the clasp. Working blindly, he unclasped it as his mouth tacked soft wet kisses against her skin. The bra came off effortlessly, sliding from her arms quickly, and leaving her nipples exposed for his mouth.

He dragged his calloused hands over her aching nipples, sending ripples of feeling through her enflamed body. Buffy tugged at the neck of his shirt even as she moaned his name, a soft whisper of sound in the otherwise silent room. The sound was intoxicating, and the more he heard it, the more he wanted it, no, needed it. His own thoughts had long since ceased as he felt her reacting under him. Spike rolled the enflamed nipples between his finger and thumb, reveling in the way she whispered out his name so delicately, but so passionately at the same time.

The room was filled with the sound of her ragged breathing, all thoughts of the trial they had endured gone from her mind now. All that was left, all that her mind registered now, was this moment, this passion so easily sparked between the two. Her hands tore at his shirt, and he finally registered her need, and quickly pulled it over his head, before returning his attention to her body. Buffy’s leg came up to rub against Spike’s, the friction causing her feelings to soar even more so then they already had been.

The vampire's hands slide down the hourglass shape of Buffy's sides, until they came to rest at her hips. Spike's fingers tensed for a moment, gripping her tightly and drawing Buffy impossibly closer to him. The strong grasp hurt slightly, but Buffy barely noticed, her only thought to be closer to Spike. Arm becoming more taught, Spike loosened his grip as his fingers moved to the front of Buffy's pants. Almost in unison, Spike's lips moved to the front of the woman's throat, where he continued to administer alternating kisses and nibbles.

Pulling at the button, Spike’s fingers freed the top of the jeans, and started to push them past her hips as she arched into his clutches. Her arms wound around his neck, and held his face to the peak of her chest. Almost immediately, he had the jeans slipping down her body, leaving her legs scantily dressed in a cherry eyelet thong. Ruffled edges belied the firm edge the slayer carried on her shoulders; it softened her somehow, made her more feminine.

There was no softness to be found in Spike's body, or attire as Buffy pressed herself against him with an almost inaudible moan near Spike's ear. By contrast, his lips gave away the vampire's more tender tendencies as they shifted to the side, taking in one of Buffy's nipples. There was the scrape of teeth that sent goose bumps over her flesh as Buffy's hands began to knead at Spike's shoulders and back, moving downward at an almost agonizingly slow rate.

Buffy gasped, her mouth hung open silently afterwards as her hands held him firm to her sensitive nipples. She kicked the jeans free, and brought her leg to rub against his jeans. Get those off, she thought harshly, hoping he would hear. Spike did, and his hands reached between them, stopping just a moment to sweep gently against her sex. Spike snapped the button off, and tore the zipper down, before he started to thrust the offending material downward. Exposed skin met her next, his entire body naked from the lack of undergarments.

It was impossible, the way he made her feel now. Like ice so cold, it burned the flesh. Buffy was at a distinct disadvantage, her lungs needing air the Spike's did not. As Buffy raised a bare leg, rubbing the soft inside of it against the vampire's hip and thigh, Spike allowed his hand to fall to his side and grasp her near the top of her smooth calf. Spike's hand slid upward, nestling behind Buffy's knee as he lifted his head to look into her hazel eyes.

Buffy stared back into his blue eyes, dark and stormy with passion, lust, and possibly more. The depths were endless, and she felt herself drowning in them. Spike brought his free hand down her side, and tugged at her standing leg as he bent down. His tongue lapped at her skin, paving a path down to her belly button. Spike urged her leg further upward, until her smooth foot was resting on his shoulder. Pushing aside the frilly pink fabric, his tongue quickly darted out to lap at her sex, to taste her essence.

Buffy's eyes fluttered shut as she rested the back of her head against the wall. If not for the wall behind her, she was certain she would have fallen backwards. One of her hands became entangled in Spike's blonde hair, her fingers pulling at it not quite gently, but not in a painful fashion. Again, Spike's tongue flecked out quickly, seeking the source of her warmth as he took an unneeded, shaky breath.

After just a few short strokes, she could feel her body tightening. She had been aching for it, the itch deep in her body begging for him to scratch it. With long slow strokes, he tasted her, and with those same strokes, she came quickly, screaming out his name in breathless abandon. As she came, Spike felt an odd sense of relaxation hit him hard, and if not for the painful hardness between his own legs, he very nearly may have collapsed onto the ground himself. Reveling in the feeling for a moment, he looked up at her from his position, and the joy he saw on her face was enough for the moment, but not for long.

Pushing himself upward, Spike pressed his body hard against her soft form. His penis poised, the velvety skin just barely touching her still quivering sex. Spike paused to look into her eyes, and she nodded just barely, and without another thought, he was buried into her. His hard length expanded her, causing her to constrict around him. The warmth he found was burning, and if he were to smell smoldering flesh, the surprise would be in that he was still alive. As alive as he could be, anyway.

Buffy felt filled, she felt as though she had never been filled until now, and the pleasure it caused was intense to her sensitive bud after the orgasm he has already given her. Depths of her body that had never before been touched stretched achingly now, pushed to the point of pain, it was so intense. Buffy felt as he stopped moving, pressed deeply against her very core. Hazel eyes opened to meet dark blue eyes, and in her own, she questioned why he paused, accented by a soft whimper. Understanding filled Buffy’s when he bent down, and cradled her bottom to lift her up and drape her stretched legs around his tapered waist.

Squeezing the perfect roundness of Buffy's bottom from below, the vampire began to move methodically slow. He leaned down, pressing a deep kiss against Buffy's lips, which began to part slowly. Spike began to taste her, exploring the beautiful woman's mouth as he moved within her. Buffy pressed back with her tongue, her arms, and legs wound tightly around the unforgiving hard muscles of Spike's. He seemed to so taunt and strong, yet even with the firmness of his kiss came the promise of warmth and tenderness that was both exhilarating and somewhat frightening. Frightening because of the way he made her feel now, as Buffy had never felt before.

Spike's lips moved from the woman's inviting ones, his lips rubbing gently against her smooth cheek as the tip of his tongue traced an unseen trail across Buffy's jaw line. The slayer shivered at the added sensation, her mind beyond reason, as she simply wanted to feel everything at once. Spike was only too happy to oblige as his lips found the gently sloping side of Buffy's neck. His lips attacked with a hunger beyond that of bloodlust while his body kept the woman pinned beneath his flat stomach and chest, and the wall to her back.

Slowly the vampire parted his lips, his tongue making small, moist circles on the side of Buffy's neck. He could feel the heat and pulse of her blood, all the while increasing the rapidity of his movements within her. Almost lazily, Spike licked at Buffy's neck again, before kissing and suckling on the soft, pliable flesh there. He scraped his teeth ones, very slowly dragging them along Buffy's throat. The slayer responded by tightening her grip so much, that if the vampire had need of air, he would have been close to blacking out. Instead, it only seemed to enflame his lust further.

Buffy could feel that familiar tension building against and she started rocking her hips hard, meeting him thrust for thrust. Slowly, Spike’s tempo began to pick up, his mouth nipped a bit harder, and his own low growls filled the air in the small room. Behind them, in the darkened cell where they had been held, Travers bloody body lie, testament of what had happened only minutes before hand.

Spike tilted his head down until the platinum curls were brushing against Buffy’s chin, and his hands moves across her body to grasp firmly at her sides. With a low untamed growl, he began to pound hard into her, and draw out slowly before sinking back in, hard and fast. Her short gasps became like music to his ears. Her fingers clutched and kneaded at the sinewy muscle of his shoulders.

Almost at once, she could feel more, she had a new sensation that was building, and it pulsated against her skin. She could feel hands on her shoulders, though no hands were there. She could feel legs around her waist, though no legs were there. She could feel deep scorching heat enveloping her, though all that seized her was cold.

With a final thrust, Spike’s head went back, and Buffy clutched tightly against him. Their orgasms were simultaneous; both were unrelenting, and powerful. Blood dripped slowly down Spike’s shoulders from where Buffy’s nails bit at his alabaster skin. They held their fevered position tightly, before they slowly sagged onto one another. Clammy forehead to sweaty forehead, the two blondes opened their eyes and looked into the others. They stayed that way for what felt like an hour, but could not have been much more then ten minutes.

Spike was the first to pull away, and the loss of his flesh against hers left Buffy feeling alone, and utterly empty. He slowly withdrew from her silky folds, and let her down to stand on her own. Still breathing hard, she let her body sag against the wall for support, and watched as he quickly got dressed. Not thinking much of her nudity, she let her own clothes sit by until he was finished dressing, and then bent down to pull her own clothes on. Her heart beat a tattoo against her flesh as she dressed. Her thoughts were jumbled, scrambled into one another.

“Well, then, pet. Think maybe we should find us a way out of here, so we can talk to your watcher?” His voice was soft and low as he watched her, almost revering. Buffy looked up after pulling her shirt over her head and nodded quietly. Spike started looking at the buttons, and found the one they were needed to unlock the house of horrors they had been trapped in. They looked up at the door at the top of the stair case, and walked slowly up the steps, Buffy behind Spike.

Chapter 21

Buffy felt odd as they walked up to her watchers house. She didn’t know how they would react, and was suddenly very scared of the rather real possibility of being staked. Buffy blinked, and rubbed her chest. Where the hell did that come from? A low chuckle behind her assured her of the source of her fears. Turning with a glare, Buffy found herself on the receiving end of a soft reassuring kiss. She took in a deep breath, then turned again, and knocked on the door.

After a few moments, Giles opened the door, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days. He stood silent for a moment, then tugged her to him, and enfolded her small form into his large arms. “Oh, thank God, Buffy. I was so scared that you had been… that is…” His words were ragged with emotion as he rocked his slayer and surrogate daughter back and forth in his arms.

Pulling back, he held her at arms length away, and took in her form from top to bottom. Other then being a bit pale, he saw that she was doing fairly good, though. Buffy looked up at him, her eyes wide as she took in his own appearance. Finally, she broke free of his arms, and took another deep breath.

“Giles, we have a problem, and I don’t know what’s going to happen.” She stepped aside, and reached out with a hand to tug Spike forward. Giles immediately reached for the cross bow he kept next to the door, and had it aimed at Spike’s heart before he was even fully out of the shadows. “Giles, NO!” Buffy instinctively stepped in front of the cross bow, and glared at Giles. A shot of fear had lanced through her when Giles had first aimed the crossbow.

“Buffy, step aside.” Giles’ voice was quiet and authoritive as he looked at Buffy. “I can stake him with this quicker then he can do any thing about it. Now, move.”

Buffy planted her hands on her hips, and shook her head. “No, you can’t stake him, because I’m pretty sure that when Travers said, ‘Death is your only escape’, he meant we would both die if one of us was killed. So, put it away, and invite him in.”

Giles stared in shock at Buffy, before shaking his head. “I most certainly will not!”

Buffy glared at him, and moved to shove him out of the way so she could at least enter, but she found herself facing an invisible barrier, stuck on the outside, looking in. Shock was clearly evident on her face, and then on Giles. Behind her, however, Spike either wasn’t shocked, or if he was, he didn’t show it. Giles looked up at the night sky, then back at Buffy.

“Buffy?”

“Relax, watcher, she’s not a vampire. I think it’s something to do with whatever your little council did to the both of us. She’s in me, and I’m in her, or some such rot. I suggest you let us in, so we can figure out what’s going on.” Hesitation flickered in Giles’ eyes, but he finally stepped aside, and said quietly, “Spike, Buffy, please come in.” He kept the crossbow at his side, however, as the two slipped into the apartment.

Spike prowled the small space with barely retained energy, and Buffy went immediately to the bookshelf. Pulling out random books, she comprised a pile, and sat them on the coffee table.

“Ok, this is what we know. I was locked in a house and tested,” Buffy paused to glare at Giles before continuing, “again. After a few days of fighting, with Spike helping me I might add, we were knocked about by soldier types, and locked into a glass room in the basement of that house. They shot me up with something, and shortly after, I started craving blood. Blood, Giles! I couldn’t drink enough of it! Anyway, to be blunt, Travers told us that we were becoming one, that our minds were merging, and our bodies, too. What did he mean, Giles?”

Giles sat hard on the chair behind him as his mind worked furiously. He had heard talk recently of a prophecy that needed filling. It was something or other about a slayer and a vampire, fighting as one. Without a word, he reached into the pile of books, and found the right one.

Flipping through it, he started running his finger down the text as he tried to locate what he needed. Finally, he came to it, and read the words silently to consider them.

Blood is shared,

Enemies as one,

Come together,

Fighting for each other.

Two as one,

One as two,

Mind and body,

Body and soul,

As one they shall be,

Consummated whole.

He thought through the lines, and read them as he had been taught to, as a watcher. The words came together for him, and he understood, though he wasn’t sure of the implications. The last line gave him hope, however. He turned to see Buffy and Spike watching him intently.

“You are sharing… traits, then? Blood, for instance. You craved it? Spike, were you hungry when she drank the blood?” Spike nodded curtly as he listened to Giles. “Well, then, I suppose what is happening, is you two are fulfilling a prophecy for… well, it doesn’t really say. Buffy, can you, uh, find me the book on slayers? The one with the gold lettering and green cover.”

He was still scanning the page when she handed him the book. Giles sat the first book down, page open still, and started flipping through the slayer book. There was a section dealing with Slayers and Vampires that he hadn’t needed to look at since Angel left for LA. He came to a small paragraph at the bottom, and read the words slowly.

Prophecies foretell of a slayer and a vampire who will become one, fight as one, and live as one. The act requires compassion between the two, we believe, and a strong link. It is believed that the two must share the act of feeding before it will start to happen, and that the slayer and vampire must both be open to each other’s thoughts and feelings. An act of consummating the relationship in the biblical sense is the final step. Without the consummating, it is widely believed by researchers that the joining can be reversed. However, once joined, the Slayer and Vampire will be the most formidable fighters the council has ever seen. This is all unfounded information, however, and we are not sure what will actually happen.

Giles sat back as his mind raced with the information. Blood, she craved blood. But, that didn’t make sense, either. How could she have started to change before drinking the blood? Or…. No, that couldn’t be it. Giles looked up and found the two of them staring at each other almost blankly, but he could tell that they were able to understand one another, possibly even hear each other’s thoughts.

Clearing his throat, Giles waited for the two of them to turn towards him. “Well, apparently, there is a prophecy that two will join as one, fighting together, living together, and well, being one person together. The information on the actual prophecy is a bit sketchier, but still, there is some. I, uh, think we can reverse it, if that is your wish, Buffy. However, I must caution you, if you allow this to happen, the two of you will fight as one. You will be a very powerful team against demons.”

Buffy looked at Spike, and he glanced towards her. Her mind was paused for a moment, before she thought of the pros and cons. Without exchanging a word or thought with Spike, she turned back to Giles, and took in a deep breath. “Before we decide, how is it reversed?”

“Well, they don’t know, that is, nothing like this has happened, so you’re the, uh, guinea pig, so to speak. The only thing it does say pertaining to the reversal, is that it can happen anytime before the relationship is, well, consummated.” He glanced from Spike to Buffy, and saw the two exchange worried expressions.

“That’s out. No, before you ask, I’m not sharing details, how’s, or why’s. Let’s just assume that reversal is out. Get on the phone with your little buddies, and find out what’s going to happen to us now.” Buffy said to the slack jawed watcher. Swallowing clearly, he finally nodded and walked to the phone, as though he were on autopilot.

See, he took that better then you thought he would, pet. Spike smirked as his thought went to her, and saw her trying to hold back a chuckle as she watched Giles glancing at them with a dumbfounded expression.

Epilogue

Epilogue

“Spike!” Buffy hollered out mid morning, “Get your ass out of that chair, and eat! I am not going to have blood just for you!” She picked up a pillow from the couch, and threw it at him, pegging him square in the chest.

“Bloody hell, slayer. I’m not hungry yet.” Spike gave her a sardonic grin, and went back to watching Passions. It had been nearly three months since they had told the watcher, and had since taken to living together.

At first, Buffy had been dead set against have the bleached vampire living in her apartment, but the two were so connected by then, that neither could stand the distance for much longer then a day, before it became painful.

Giles had done his bit, and the research came up with precious little. Physically, they felt everything the other felt now, but remained two separate people. If one was hurt, however, the other inevitably had a matching wound. They had learned that the hard way when Buffy got slashed on the upper arm by a nasty demon. The upside of it, however, is that the combined slayer-vampire healing caused any wounds to heal in a matter of hours.

“I don’t care if you are, I feel hungry for that… stuff. Now go eat!” Spike grumbled before disappearing into the small kitchenette, and pulling a bag of blood from the fridge. He liked giving her a hard time, but really, he just wanted her to be happy.

There had been a few times in the beginning when he had woken in the night to feel the gut wrenching tears she still had now and then for her lost family, but they had quickly learned how to adapt to the feelings, and bring comfort to the other.

Buffy had never thought that she would care what the vampire was feeling, but every once in a while; she would feel the lost and lonely emotions tearing at him. The sadness that overcame her shocked and surprised her at first, when the feelings were rare, but now, they were getting to be so common place, she knew how to deal with them better.

Spike returned from the kitchenette with a warm mug of blood, and tossed a granola bar towards Buffy. “Eat up, luv, got a nasty demon to oust tonight.”

It hadn’t taken long for them to come to a compromise on Spike feeding from a living being. They decided that he could feed from any suitable demons, while helping her kill them, so it worked out best for the both of them. There were still times when Spike came home, and Buffy knew before he got in the door that he had fed from a human, but those times were few, now.

Buffy had found that she was angrier that he tried to hide it, than anything. She abated when he helped with the demons, however, and he was able to get in one or two good bites a night, if he didn’t mind watered down, hardly adequate demon blood. Most of it wouldn’t sustain him, but it served to cure the ache his jaw would get when the need to bite came over him.

“Yes, I know, you and Giles hardly let me forget anything but the whole, ‘lets go kill another demon’ thing.” Buffy grumbled as she opened her granola bar, and quickly ate it. Her eyes were drawn to the TV; Spike had turned her into as much of a Passions addict as he was.

Things were still rough from time to time, they both had their ups and downs, and neither really wanted the situation, but they were stuck with it. They just had to adapt, and figure it out in their own time. Spike kicked back in the chair again, and slurped his blood quickly, knowing that Buffy still wasn’t used to the sharp biting hunger pains of blood thirst.

He had grown more accommodating for her, while she had stubbornly done the same, though loudly protesting the entire time. In truth, though, her protesting was more for show, than anything, and they both knew it. It still irked her to know that anything she said and did was potentially heard and felt by Spike. There had been a quick lesson in humility when she had gotten herself worked up in the shower one day. To her acute embarrassment, she came out of the shower only to see Spike glaring at her with a distinctive bulge in his jeans.

“’ey, might want to watch those high kicks tonight, slayer. This guy has a thing for going in low, n one of those kicks would give him the right place.” Spike remarked as he paid attention to Passions. Buffy smirked and downed the last of her snack, then stood up to throw the wrapper away. On her way by, she tossed a quick smack to his head.

Spike hadn’t looked at her after that for nearly an entire day, and kept pissing about her lack of common courtesy. She had balefully regretted that day, and nothing had happened since. They both steadfastly ignored what had happened at the house in the basement, but at the same time, it was there, hanging over them.

Truth be told, neither would have tried hard to stop it, but Buffy wanted Spike to make the first move, while he wanted her to prove it to him and herself that she did indeed want him just as much. The standstill was going to end soon, though, because neither was able to handle it when one of them had a sexual dream, thought, or fantasy.

“Oi, now, no messing with my hair!” Spike tossed the pillow back at Buffy, and grinned.

To the best of their figuring, it was easier to ‘exchange’ feelings when one was feeling extremely emotional, though smaller emotions still slipped through at times. Spike knew every time Buffy cried, and Buffy knew every time Spike felt alone, or hurting. She had even picked up on his inclination to over do things to compensate for his ‘Inner-William’, as he called his conscience.

“Oh, like it would move with the gallon of gel you dump in it!” Buffy teased as she made her way back into the living room.

Overall, things were working out, albeit, slowly. Spike was getting comfortable in his new life, and Buffy was adjusting well.

“I do not own any such device!” Spike retorted indigently.

”Yeah, I know, you steal mine!” Buffy cracked back with a laughing smirk on her face. “Don’t think I don’t know why it disappears so fast, buddy.”

Spike chuckled while neither admitting nor denying the accusation. He looked over at Buffy, and smiled with true affection for her. It came to no surprise when she returned it.

The End