End Of The Bloody Line

Chapter Three
Turn by Starshine

"What do you say, Slayer? You gonna help me take out Angelus?"

Buffy squirmed under the intensity of those fiery sapphire eyes. She moved closer to her mother; still not fully aware of her surroundings. His question penetrated the fog in her head and she forced herself to focus solely on him.

Take out Angel?  The thought sent panic through her entire being. How could she even fathom the thought?

Spike smirked. "Oh come on, Slayer. Get your head out of the bloody clouds, will ya? After what we just went through, you can't still think that you’re gonna get your little lapdog back?  You saw him. You heard the things he said. That was Angelus talking, luv. Your broody, soul-having Angel is no more.”

"There—there has to be another way." Buffy tried to suppress a shudder of revulsion as she remembered Angelus’ words to her. Pure, unadulterated evil had glittered in his merry brown eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something when he suddenly doubled over with a shout of pain. Everyone in the room watched in amazement as he clutched at his stomach; his face a twisted mask of agony.

"W-what's happening?" Willow stammered nervously.

Buffy had no idea what possessed her. She hurried to Spike's side and rested a comforting hand on his back, easing him down to the floor.

“Don’t, Buffy, it’s some kind of trick,” Giles made a move to stop her, only to be brought up short by the fierce look she shot at him.

“Spike? What is it?” she asked urgently. “Tell me what to do.”

"Bloody hurt's," Spike groaned. "Need…Make them go," He looked up at her pleadingly.

"I need a minute alone with Spike," Buffy said without hesitation.

The room erupted but she held up a hand to still their protests. "NOW!" she barked in a no-nonsense voice.

Muttering and exchanging wary glances, they all trooped reluctantly out of the living room and into the kitchen, herded along by Joyce.

Buffy made sure they were out of earshot and then knelt down beside the tormented blonde vampire. He closed his eyes for a moment then stared blankly at the ceiling.

"I guess it's done then," he muttered. He sighed and reached up to skim his fingers lightly over Drusilla's old mark on his neck.

"What's done? What are you talking about?"

"Dru has released me."

"Released you?"

It said a lot about Spike's state of mind that he would allow the Slayer to help him to his feet and lead him to sit on the sofa they had spent the night on. He sank back against the cushions with a pained sigh.

"Your boyfriend is gone Slayer. He belongs to her now. They belong to each other."

"How can you know this?" she demanded, her voice edged with a hint of hysteria. "You're lying."

"For a slayer, you know precious little about the creatures you hunt. Dru and I were never mated, but I can feel her through the sire/childe bond. The only thing that can break that familial bond is for the sire to cast the childe aside, for whatever reason strikes their fancy.”

Buffy dropped down beside him, all the strength leaving her legs. "You mean they’re…"

"Mated, claimed, the whole bloody nine yards. I can't feel a thing from her; not even a twinge of remorse. Be nice to have at least that. Over a hundred years and it's sayonara, Spike and hello, Great Poof."

She stared at him, amazed that she was she actually feeling sympathy for someone that had sent a whole order of assassins after her.

"You okay?”

Spike took deep, unnecessary breath. "Not really. I’m alone now. Gotta say that I never expected this to happen," he said with a short, bitter laugh. “Trust Angelus to bollix up my grand scheme.”

 

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, resting a tentative hand on his black-clad knee.

"Not half as sorry as you are gonna to be if you don’t wise up, Slayer,” he sneered.

Jerking her hand back, she glared at him. "What do you mean?"

"He's not Angel anymore, ducks. He's Angelus; the Scourge of Europe. He’s a manipulative master of mind games and an expert at mental and physical torture.”

"This coming from the self-proclaimed Slayer of Slayers?" Buffy snapped.

Spike regarded her with barely concealed contempt. “Self-proclaimed? Hardly, luv. I was given that name by your very own Council of Wankers. Yeah, I’ve killed two of your kind, but at least I gave ‘em the honor of defending themselves. Angelus doesn’t work that way. You have no idea what you’re up against with him, Slayer. I know him. I know BOTH of them. They’re…."

He suddenly gripped her small hands in his and leaned towards her until they were almost nose to nose, his blue eyes blazing into hers. Buffy made no move to pull away from him, fascinated by his intensity and uncomfortably aware of the tingles that raced up her arms from his touch.

“Angelus won’t come after you directly. Not his style, you see. He’ll go after all you hold dear; your mum, your watcher, and all your little scooby friends. Oh, he’s gonna have a real good time with you, Slayer, because he KNOWS what makes you tick. He has all the inside information he needs and he’ll use every scrap of his knowledge to torture you and make your life a living hell. By the time he gets done, you’ll welcome death simply for the relief from his torment.” He gave her a considering look. “That is, unless he turns you.”

Buffy snatched her hands away from him and leapt to her feet, pacing back and forth in agitation. As badly as she wished they weren’t, Spike’s words were finally sinking in and she was getting the true picture of what dealing with Angelus was going to entail.

”So, how do we stop them?” she asked, folding her arms tightly over her stomach in an unconscious defensive gesture. “Just tell me what I have to do to beat him. You take care of Drusilla.”

Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow sardonically at her choice of words. “You sure you’re gonna be able to handle this, Slayer? Not gonna go all catatonic on me again like you did at the church, are you?”

“I can handle it.”

He stood up and moved to stand uncomfortably close to her. “This isn’t about getting them back, princess. They’re mated now, and the only way to break that bond is for one of them to cast the other aside. Never gonna happen. Drusilla finally has her Daddy, and Angelus…well, Dru was always his greatest creation. Nothing will come between them. This is about putting them in the bloody ground, casting their dust to the four winds. You gettin’ my point here?”

She flinched at his harsh tone, but proudly stood her ground. “I said I could handle it!” she spat.

After a few tense moments, Spike nodded. “Right, then. I have a pretty good handle on both of them and what makes them tick. They’ll expect me to go for a spot of revenge, and Angelus will definitely be waiting for you to try and take them down. We need to do whatever we can to throw him off his game, and one thing that will drive him as batty as Dru would be to make him think we’re together.”

“Huh?”

The mystified expression on her face and her oh-so-eloquent response brought forth an amused chuckle from the vampire. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that, Goldilocks?”  he snarked.

She frowned ferociously. “I know you aren’t implying that we try to convince them that we’re…a couple?”

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’, luv. Angelus is a territorial bastard. Doesn’t matter that he’s never claimed you, he considers you HIS. The thought of you and I being together will drive him to distraction, and that’s exactly what we want.”

Buffy laughed in his face. “I’m not that good an actress, Spike. There is no way I’d be able to stomach your presence long enough to convince Angel that we have a—a THING going on,” she declared.

His eyes narrowed in anger at her inappropriate show of mirth. “Shall I prove you wrong, Slayer?” he asked in a deceptively silky voice.

“You’re welcome to TRY,” she smirked, supremely confident in her ability to resist anything he might throw at her. A sudden thought had her pointing a finger at his perfectly shaped nose. “And no thrall thingie, either!”

Spike gave her a scornful look. “I don’t do thrall; that’s Dru’s gig, not mine. Unlike some I could mention I don’t need to resort to parlor tricks to get what I want.”

She rolled her eyes at his show of bravado. “Whatever. Just get on with it so I can say ‘I told you so’.”

Without another word, he bent his head and covered that luscious, smart-assed mouth with his own. She gasped at his audacity, leaving her mouth open and vulnerable to the agile assault of his cool tongue. When she gave a muffled sound of protest and tried to pull back, his hands shot out to stop her retreat, digging into the curve of her hips and dragging her up against him.

Buffy squeaked and pressed her hands against his chest, trying vainly to push him away. She tried to bring her knee up to his groin, but found it quickly trapped between the hard muscles of his thighs.

A low, purring growl of warning emanated from his throat as he continued his onslaught on her mouth. The sound seemed to vibrate through her from the hands that rested on his chest through her entire body before centering low in her belly. The cadence of his kiss changed from harsh aggression to gentle coaxing in the span of a heartbeat; his tongue outlining the pout of her lips before plunging inside to curl around hers once more.

A pervasive lassitude settled over her limbs and she slumped against him in surrender. Her mind was numb but her body had never felt so alive, she realized with stunned surprise. How could Spike-- evil, soulless Spike who had promised to bathe in her blood-- have this affect on her? Against her will, she found herself returning his kiss and arching eagerly into him.

The instant she began to respond to his touch, Spike practically threw her away from him, breathing in harsh, unnecessary gasps. Both struggled to regain some measure of control at they stared at each other.

He recovered faster than she and allowed a knowing smirk to curve his lips. “Guess you’re a better actress than you though, eh pet?”

With an inarticulate sound of rage, she drew back and punched him in the nose

Round 3 by karbear57

Turn Pairings: Spike/Buffy

Rating: NC17

Warning: Blood play, NC17 due to sexual situation

Right after Buffy punched Spike in the nose…

“Stupid vampire,” Buffy slammed her bedroom door.  She immediately started to pace, wringing her hands together. She ran out of the living room as soon as she punched him, leaving before he could retaliate, and she knew he would.

“Him and his stupid plans with his full lips and chiseled cheek bones.  Staring at me with his blue eyes.  Who does his think he is?  ‘Guess you are a better actress than you thought, eh pet?’” She mocked.  “With his stupid smirk and bleached hair, damn him!”  Buffy paced around her bedroom, getting angrier. “‘They belong to each other’,” she mocked again.

“Buffy?”  Joyce’s voice echoed up the stairs.

“Yes, Mom?”  Buffy answered, half afraid that she would get in trouble for punching Spike.

“Bring down the twin sized sheets and make the cot in the basement up for Spike.”  Buffy could have sworn her mother emphasized his name to taunt her.  She could just see him beside her mom, with his smirk and bad attitude.

“Mom!” She complained.  There was no way she was going to make Spike’s bed.

“Do it,” Joyce’s voice was hard and paused a moment, “Now!”

“Fine,” Buffy went to the linen closet and took a pair of blue twin sized sheets out, but paused.  Underneath the blue sheets stood a very old set of sheets, her sheets to be exact.  Strawberry Shortcake sheets.  With an evil glint in her eyes, she replaced the blue sheets and took out her childhood sheets.  If she had to make Spike’s bed up, she certainly could have fun doing it.  She grabbed a blue blanket and tucked everything together.  It was time to make Spike’s bed.

Buffy calmly walked down the stairs and noticed that the living room was empty.  She headed to the kitchen and noticed everyone in there.  She glanced at Spike leaning against the counter with a bloodied dish rag held to his face, his eyes narrowed on her with the shadow of a threat lurking behind his eyelids.

Joyce glared at her daughter as she passed, upset that she resorted to such juvenile and violent stunt.  “Now, Buffy.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”  Buffy opened the basement door.  She ran down the steps and headed to the musty cot in the corner.  She started to make the bed, a self satisfied smile firmly on her face.

She finished tucking the sheets in and had just laid the top cover down when her mother opened the basement door and started down the steps . 

“Now, that wasn’t that hard, was it?” her mother asked.

“No,” Buffy continued to pretend to fix the blanket.   “I guess not.”

“It’s the least you can do to thank him for saving your life,” Joyce said as she picked up some clothes in the laundry.

“Sure,” Buffy snorted.

“That and an apology.”

“What?  You’ve got to be kidding? Mom!” Buffy whined.

“I don’t want to hear it, Buffy.  You apologize for punching Spike’s nose.”

“I so will not!”  Buffy insisted as her foot stomped on the cement floor.

“Yes, you will,” Joyce scolded.  “He saved your life and you repay him with violence.  I thought I raised you better than that.”

“He’s a vampire, Mom.”

“Doesn’t change the fact he saved you.”

“Fine!”  Buffy said and ran up the stairs.  She flew into the kitchen, startling everyone sitting around the island.  Spike straightened his body as she neared him, his eyes appraising her.  “Mom says I have to apologize so I’m sorry.”

Spike’s lips twitched barely repressing a smile. His blue eyes darkened with surprising lust, “Playing Mommy's little girl?” His hand touching his chest, near his unbeating heart.  “I’m touched, really.”  Slowly his hand moved down his pectorals and rib change, “What other role playing games you into?  Care to show me your repertoire, Luv?"

Buffy looked at him startled and a bit aroused.  She watched as he curled his tongue around his teeth, waggling the appendage.  “Pig!” she gritted out.  Before anyone in the room could notice, her fist reached flew towards him, only to be stopped by his own hand.

He pulled her closer to him, their chests touching and whispered, “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

Outraged, Buffy’s foot shot out and made contact with his shin.  “And I’m not sorry!” 

Spike laughed as he rubbed his shin, his blue eyes dancing with mirth and added, “You know you want me, Slayer!”

Joyce watched from the basement door as her daughter stomped out of the room.  She glanced over at Spike with a disappointed face.  Spike noticed Joyce entering the room and his face suddenly fell, “Sorry, Joyce.”

~*~*~
The house fell quiet as night approached and the Scoobies left.  Joyce sat in the kitchen, nursing a mug of homemade hot chocolate as she contemplated life.

Life was a funny thing, she mused.  First, Mr. Giles comes to her, informing her that her only daughter, her blood was gone, dead.  Unimaginable pain filled her, poured out of every orifice.  It almost destroyed her.

The only thing that saved her was the hope that Mr. Giles was wrong.  He brought no proof of her daughter’s demise, only wicked tales of demons and vampires.    She thought that someone slipped him some PCP, evidently a popular drug on Sunnydale streets.  That somehow he was high on hallucinates. 

It was too much for her, she realized now.  Her quiet demeanor wasn’t from choice, but necessity.  Her mind whipped around thoughts and hopes that this man, and the children surrounding him were on drugs.


But it wasn’t to be, she thought as she sipped from the warm mug.  Everything changed the moment the door opened to reveal Spike holding Buffy’s injured form.  Vampires were real and Buffy was alive. 

She didn’t have much choice, inviting Spike in, allowing him to stay. Something deep inside his eyes spoke to her, called to her instincts.  This man, this vampire saved her daughter for no other reason than to fight another day.

She watched as he held Buffy so close, desperate for the group to listen to his side, to band together against the new evil.

She couldn’t help but snort at the idea.  Evil.  She never thought about evil except in terms of her ex-husband and his lack of parentage.  It amazed her that not only did evil have its minions, but she invited one to stay in her house.

Joyce wasn’t stupid, she saw Buffy and Spike kiss in the living room, saw the passion flow around them, encompass them.  And, she knew that it was only time before it consumed them.  She only hoped that they wouldn’t combust.

She finished her nightly drink and rinsed out her mug.  She made sure all the doors were locked and the lights off before she made her way up to her bedroom.
~*~*~

Buffy crept down the stairs, her feet barely whispered against the treads.  Slowly, her body moved through the night like a predator.  Slowly and carefully, she avoided the squeaking floor as she made her way towards her prey.

She opened the basement door and peered down the steps.  Taking a deep breath, she started her journey down to the bowels of the house, leaving the door open to allow some light into the basement.  She squinted against the remaining midnight, barely deciphering the different objects littering the floor.

She stepped around the laundry baskets and storage boxes, all her senses trained on the corner of the basement.  Slowly, she walked towards him, her slayer senses acutely aware of his presence.

“Couldn’t stay away then?” his deep British voice echoed through the basement.  She heard the rustle of the sheets as he sat up.

“Shut up, Spike.”  Buffy rolled her eyes in the dark, slightly embarrassed that he couldn’t see her expression in the dark.  Spike smiled when he saw her embarrassed blush, his night vision was excellent.

“Make me,” he purred as he moved on the bed.  “Loved the sheets, Slayer.”

“Knew you would,” she said confidently.

“They smell just like you.  Bloody intoxicating.”

Buffy stepped closer to the cot.  “Shut up, Spike.”

“Not every vampire can brag about being between the Slayer’s sheets,” he continued.

“Spike,” she sighed, “please.  I didn’t come down here for your evil mouth.”

“Fine, Slayer, I’ll bite.  Exactly what did you come down here for?”  Spike sat up in the bed and patted the mattress for her to sit on.  She noticed that he was not wearing a shirt.

“Were you serious?” She asked as she sat down.

“About what?”

“You know,” she sighed, “Angelus.”

“You mean with making him jealous?”

“Yeah, and him thinking I’m property.”

“He does, you know,” Spike sighed, she watched him drag his hand through his hair, “It would drive him crazy if he thought that you and me…”

“Were together?”

“Dru, too.  Bloody drive her around the bend once more.”

“Look, I’m not in this to make your crazy girlfriend even crazier.”

“Hey, shut your gob about Dru.”

“You’re the one that said she released you, why are you defending her?”

“I’m not,” he suddenly sounded very tired.  “It’s just that I was with her for over a century and she just left, you know?”

Buffy awkwardly touched his shoulder, for some unknown reason wanting to comfort him.  “I’m sorry.”  Spike stiffened at her touch, “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I am sorry.”

“Shouldn’t have come here,” he said, tears threatened to escape from his eyes.

“Sunnydale?”

“Yeah,” he sniffed, “This wouldn’t have happened, you would still be making eyes with the poof and I would have my ripe wicked plum.”

“Maybe,” Buffy said slowly, “Or she could be dust and Angel could have still lost his soul.   Spike,” she paused.  “What if…”

“What if what, Slayer?”

“What if we made them think…”

“It would be a definite distraction.”

“Definitely,” Buffy agreed. “But we shouldn’t, we can’t.”

They both sat on the cot in the dark, neither knowing what to do, what to say.  Minutes ticked by, their bodies close yet too far apart.  It wasn’t a touch or a glance that started it. 

Neither knew what happened, who made the first move, whose lips puckered first.  Before either could process what was going on, Buffy was perched on Spike’s lap, her lips attached to his and her arms around his shoulder.

Spike’s hands curled around her waist, the satin fabric of her pajamas slid through his fingertips.  His lips tingled with excitement as they touched hers.

He felt the warmth of her body saturate his, her legs straddling him as they fought for control with their mouths.  Her fingernails ran down his shoulders and biceps, arousing his demon. 

He heard her heartbeat increase, her scent wafting past his nostrils.  He held her body on top of his, using her body weight to add pressure to his growing erection.  He felt like he couldn’t control himself anymore that touching her consumed him, set him ablaze.  He couldn’t stop if he wanted to, couldn’t deny this feeling.

Buffy broke the kiss, her need to breathe outweighing their passion.  Spike’s hands griped her buttocks, bringing her body closer, rocking them together.  He watched her head lean back, light gleaming off her neck.

“Slayer,” he rasped through his demonic features.

She looked down at him, a slow smile lighting her face.  “Vampire,” she called back.

“Come here,” he licked his lips.

“What’s my name?” she whispered.  Her face fell inches from him, not allowing him to reach her lips.

“Buffy,” he rasped.

“Spike,” she whispered low as their lips touched, his demonic face melting away.  “Want you.”

“Want you, too,” he replied as he moved their bodies down to the cot. Their legs rub against each other as the weight of Spike’s body pressed Buffy into the cool sheets.

Spike’s fingers moved to her pajama top, unbuttoning the pearl buttons slowly as they continued to kiss.  He felt her warm sticky tongue lick his lips and teeth, tentatively exploring him.

Her legs formed a ‘V’ for Spike’s pelvis to rest in, cocooning him.  He felt her arousal through her pants and his jeans, scorching him with her heat.   His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans.

He allowed her to explore, to set the pace, knowing that she was innocent of carnal knowledge.  Her tongue licked around his canines, once again teasing his demon.

Spike broke the kiss, the control over his animalistic qualities slipping.  “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Buffy winked her right eye and tightened the grip on his hips, “I don’t?”

“Bloody hell, Slayer.” He rasped as his demon visage slipped into place.  “Want to fuck a demon, is it?  Want to feel his cock sliding against your virginal walls, breaking the precious barrier away?”

Her fingers grasped the short hairs behind Spike’s head and tugged him down closer.  “I want to fuck you.”

The pressure inside Spike intensified, throwing all caution out the window.  “As you wish,” he snarled.

Buffy watched, entranced, almost enthralled as his hands ripped the remaining buttons of her top off and baring her breasts to his hungry gaze.  He buried his head between her supple breasts, his mouth sucked in her skin. 

Her legs tightened around his hips, causing more lust to rise.  She watched his human face flicker back as he laved her breasts and nipples.   She gasped as he took one nipple into his mouth, pulling it with his teeth. 

His hands gripped her pajama bottoms, pulling the fabric up and away from her body.  Buffy felt the seams start to rip under Spike’s mistreatment and tried to stop him before they totally ripped, but she was too late.

It was startling to her when she felt the cool air of the basement on her bottom half, goose bumps erupted along her legs.  She felt Spike’s jean clad legs grinding against her sensitive skin, but she couldn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of lust.

His fingers fumbled between them, frantically trying to unbutton his pants.  As his erection popped out of his pants, he angled quickly into her.  His lips moved up to her face, devouring her lips and scream as he pierced her virginity.

Buffy panted against the invasion, suddenly aware who she was with.  Fighting against the panic rising from deep within, she swallowed the pain and looked into Spike’s blue eyes.  She saw something deep with his irises, something unreachable; something that stirred her soul.

He moved slowly, allowing her body to adjust, to accept him.  He watched the pain in her eyes fade and her arousal take over once more.  Her eyes flicked bright green to brown as he moved above her, using his body to bind them together.

This was more than seeking revenge on Angelus and Dru.  This was more than a distraction. 

This was more.

Neither wanted to think about what ‘more’ meant in this act or what the feeling inside them meant.  It was something that neither wanted to acknowledge, and so they didn’t.  They moved against each other, her pelvis meeting each of his thrusts, angling his cock inside her to do its job.

Buffy looked up at Spike, the feeling of her body connected and full amazed her.  His body was lean and muscular, definitely manly, but not overwhelming as it moved against her.  Her body opened up to him, coating his cock in more of her juices as a tremor of ecstasy flowed through her.  His eyes turned amber before her as he struggled on top of her, feeling her muscles hold tighter on to him.

Growling, he moved faster, a bit harder than before, yet his thrusts were still measured.  He watched her face contort with pleasure, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted.  He felt her hot bbreath burst on his face as they both struggled toward ecstasy.

He felt the demon inside him, lusting after her, after her blood.  She seemed to call to him, demanding his attention as she writhed under him.  Her scent filled his nostrils, imprinting themselves on to his psyche.  Her skin seemed to flow over her potent blood, drawing his attention.  

He felt her muscles tighten and relax, pulling him deeper inside.  Her body arched with her head tilting to the side as her muscles started to flutter.  He felt her legs clamp around him harder, drawing him closer. 

She sighed and moaned, little noises escaping her body. “I love you,” he heard her whisper into the night, as if the admission was something to be cloaked.

His amber eyes pinpointed her jugular and followed her beat.  She was his, no matter what happened in the future, he knew. 

“Mine,” he growled as she came.  “Mine,” his voice roared as he followed.  Before he knew it, his teeth were imbedded in her neck, drawing in her intoxicating signature, owning it for him self.

Sweet mouthfuls of her rich blood poured into his mouth, binding her body to his; her spirit to his demon.  He felt the ancient magiks whirl around them, the scent of it heavy in the air.

Too caught up in the orgasmic rapture, he didn’t hear her voice in the dark; hear her say, “Yours.”  He didn’t hear her continue, “Mine.”

He didn’t realize what had happened until he felt her blunt teeth against his skin, pulling on his own blood.  Both felt the shift in the universe, the magnitude of what had happened and broke apart, their necks still bleeding.

“Love you,” he said, lost in the sensation of the mating.


With a start, Buffy sat up in her bed, her breath quick and irregular.  “Oh God!”

Down two flights of stairs, Spike stood up with a start, his bare chest needlessly heaving.  “Oh Bugger!”

Chapter 5 by Always_jbj

Turn Pairings: Spike/Buffy, Angelus/Drusilla

Rating: NC17 for language and adult themes.

DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING: Joss owns all... but if he wants a vampire-sitter for Spike I promise to take REALLY good care of him!

Spike paced the confines of the basement, muttering to himself a stream of denials. “No! No sodding way!”

He raked his hand through his hair in frustration, glancing toward the stairs as he ran the vivid dream over in his mind, again and again.

With a growl of annoyance, he gave up on trying to work out where the bleeding hell the dream had come from and why in the name of all that was bloody unholy it had felt so damned real—real enough that he’d had to clean himself up before he could get dressed, like a worthless bloody teenage git. He grabbed his t-shirt from where he had dropped it on the floor near his bed. And what was with the bloody sheets any way? Stupid bint. Well, now her precious ‘little girl’ sheets had his cum all over them—see how she liked that. He dragged the shirt furiously over his head, running a hand once more through his unruly curls in an attempt to tame them before he made his way up the stairs to get himself some breakfast. At least once his hunger was seen to he would be able to think clearly.

*****

Buffy had barrelled into the kitchen only to stop short upon seeing Spike standing there, waiting for the microwave to finish. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she hesitated in the doorway; she so did not want to be sharing space with Spike right now. No... Not with the sharing of anything with Spike… not now, not ever! Never mind that his kisses left her weak and aching for more, or that his body had felt so perfect pressed up against hers, and never mind those exquisitely blue eyes that you could happily lose yourself in forever. No, definitely not thinking about the sharing of… things…with Spike.

Slayer. Spike’s jaw tightened as he drew himself up defensively. He watched in amazement as the Slayer blushed and hesitated; he heard her heart rate escalate, and if his nostrils didn’t deceive him, which they rarely did, he also caught the heady, musky scent of her arousal. Looks like the bint was more effected by my kiss than I thought, he mused to himself, completely ignoring the fact that his dick jumped to attention everytime he saw her and that he had spent half the night dreaming about her; none of that mattered. What mattered was that the bloody Slayer was standing there, getting all flushed and wet at the mere sight of him.

“Oh, bloody ‘ell, Slayer. Come in. I don’t bite.” A deep ironic chuckle resonated low in his chest before his voice dropped to a seductive drawl, “not much anyway,” he leered, looking the Slayer slowly up and down, chills coursing through her body as his eyes caressed her.

“As if I would be scared of you anyway,” Buffy huffed, rolling her eyes at the blonde menace. She purposefully made her way into the kitchen to prove to the vampire, and herself, that she was NOT afraid to be in the same space with him.

As Buffy reached into the cabinet to remove the pop tarts she sensed, rather than felt, him close the distance between them, his hands locking on the counter to either side of her. He leaned in and slowly breathed in her warm, exhilarating scent, then lifted his head to lock fiery blue eyes upon her green ones. “You may not be scared of me, pet, but you’re sure as hell scared of what I do to you. Face it. The Big Bad turns you on, kitten, and that scares you to the bone.”

“My God, ego much?” Buffy made to push past him, and as their arms touched a thrill of longing coursed through each of them. Spike pulled away quickly as he fought to hide his reaction from the diminutive blonde. Buffy gasped, pulling her arm back and away from the undeniably gorgeous vampire who was causing her to have such completely wrong feelings. Please God, tell me why everyone else gets to go home, and Kendra gets to stay with Giles, and I get stuck with the annoying, egotistical, oh so sexy vampire?

“Right then. Well, I’ll get outta your way then, shall I?” Spike moved to leave just as the bell on the microwave sounded.

Buffy sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “No, Spike, it’s ok. Stay, have your breakfast.” She dropped the pop tart into the toaster and poured herself a cup of coffee. “I mean, it’s a big enough kitchen. It’s not like we’ll be in each other’s way or anything.” There, she could be magnanimous when she wanted!

They each prepared their breakfast, taking care to avoid each other in the process. Jumping up to sit on the counter, Spike sipped at his blood, watching her as she moved around the room while images from his dream flitted through his mind, lost until a raised voice broke through his reverie.

“Hello? Geesh, where were you?’

“Sorry, luv, thinking ‘bout some things is all. You say something?” He quickly finished the mug full and, getting down from the counter, moved the sink to wash the mug out.

“Yeah, only three times.” Buffy gave him one of her patented annoyed looks. “I said, Giles is going to be over soon. He was kinda saying that seeing as you are on our side now, that you could help me patrol, and that he was wanting to go over some stuff in a book with you… some watchery stuff, you know… about you, and the others… the rest of the Scourge.”

“You’re mad as a two-bob bloody watch if you think I’m gonna jump through hoops for you or your soddin’ tweed-coated wanker!” Indignation flared across the vampire’s face. “’m here to help you fight Angelus, that’s it! ‘m not a bloody pet vampire performing circus tricks for the likes of you lot. Watcher wants to know about me an’ mine, he can find out some other bloody way.”

“Oh, you are so insufferable, you know that?! Fine, be like that.”

“Fine, I will!” Spike stormed through the basement door, slamming it behind him as he went.

Buffy stomped out of the kitchen, passing her wide-eyed mother on her way, and fled upstairs to the sanctity of her bedroom.

Joyce sighed at their antics. It was definitely going to be a long day! Her thoughts were interrupted as a throat was cleared; she turned to see Mr Giles standing just inside the doorway, looking more than just a little nervous. Giles smiled shyly at Buffy’s mother before stepping into the kitchen.

He had come over in the hopes of convincing Joyce that the vampire should be restrained in some manner, or that perhaps Kendra should stay here while he kept the vampire at his apartment. There were of course certain - holes - in the Watchers’ Diaries regarding the Scourge of Europe that he was hoping Spike would consent to fill in for him. Upon arrival, he had let himself into the house and had made his way to the kitchen in time to catch the end of the small drama unfolding therein and Joyce’s tired sigh.

“I know this is quite a lot to take in… and well, in all honesty, it is my fervent wish that none of this had ever touched yours or Buffy’s lives. Unfortunately, I have no power over who is Chosen; it is merely my duty to help her in any way I can and do my utmost to keep her alive.” Giles removed his glasses, looking the woman before him in the eye before continuing. “Buffy truly is an amazing young woman, and it is my belief that she is one of the best Slayers ever to have existed.”

“That may well be, Mr Giles, but she is my daughter, my only child. And you send her out there, each night, knowing that she may not be coming back. How do you justify that to yourself? How do you send a young girl out to fight such monsters?”

“It is not easy. All I can do is support her and believe in her. Buffy has become, since she was placed in my charge, much like a daughter to me. While I do not deign to suggest that I know how you feel, I believe I do know some measure of it.” Giles’ shoulders slumped dejectedly; how could he explain without causing this woman, whom he was rapidly coming to admire, further pain? “The truth of the matter is that these creatures will seek her out regardless of my involvement. So, better I am there to help her, train her, prepare her in any way that I am able, than to leave her to face the danger alone. Would I it were any other way."

“And Spike?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow?” Giles tried to make sense of the rapid change in direction the conversation had taken.

“Where does Spike fit, in the general scheme of things? I was just wondering?” Joyce’s voice betrayed only the slightest hint of the frustration she was feeling at the moment.

In a very short space of time, she had found out that her only child was a super-powered ‘Chosen One’ whose mission it was to fight evil—vampires, mostly. Then, mere heartbeats later, she was being told that the self-same daughter had been killed in the course of this sacred mission. As she had tried to come to terms with—no, that was something she could never come to terms with—as she tried to grasp the words that were falling from the handsome librarian’s lips, her daughter was returned to her, injured but alive, by the blonde vampire she had been told was instrumental in her daughter’s death.

Call it a mother’s instinct, or just mere observation, but something was definitely happening between her daughter and her vampire saviour. She had seen them kissing, seen the depth of passion that had flared up between them; more than that, she had seen the way they looked at each other when the other wasn’t watching. She had seen Buffy’s cutting words cause hurt to flash across the vampire’s expressive face, only to be hidden almost instantly by a sneer and equally cutting remark of his own. There was no doubt in Joyce’s mind that the two were very strongly attracted to each other, but her instincts told her that that attraction was merely the tip of the iceberg.

“Spike is a killer. A creature responsible for the death of two Slayers and countless numbers of innocent people,” Giles answered her, the hard note in his voice making clear that where Spike was concerned there was no room for compromise in the watcher’s mind. “The fact that he has access to your home, and is being allowed to roam free… well, it causes me great concern to say the least. I should hate to see any harm befall you.”

Joyce felt a sudden chill run down her spine; she was unable to decide if it was caused by the fear of her daughter becoming involved with someone declared to be a merciless killer, or by her fear of the resentment and ridicule Buffy would most likely face from these people because of such an involvement. After observing the pair for the last few days, Joyce was in no doubt that a relationship between them was inevitable. All she could do was pray that any feelings Spike was developing for her daughter were strong enough to overcome his inherent nature.

“I see. Well, thank you for your honesty, but as I have said before—he saved my daughter’s life, and while he is in this house I will not have him treated as anything other than a guest.” Joyce spoke quietly but firmly, looking the Watcher in the eye before smiling understandingly at him to soften the sting of her words. She knew that the Watcher was being honest with her about his fears, yet for some reason she could not help but feel he was wrong about the blonde vampire. She wasn’t sure what it was, something in his eyes maybe, but deep down inside Joyce was certain that Spike was not the danger he was made out to be; at least, not to her family.

*****

He woke groggily, pulled from his dreams as the girl sprawled across his body shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer to him and mumbling softly to herself. He looked down at the dark head resting against the pale flesh of his chest. Their coupling had been fierce and vicious—just the way I like it—he thought to himself, his lips curling into a cold, malicious smile. She was perfect, his mate; in all the world, there was none more suited to him, and together they would bring this world to its knees and wallow in its blood.

Why, then, did he dream of blonde hair and green eyes filled with—what was that... love? Why was his sleep marred by feelings of protectiveness, devotion and admiration for the blonde whore of a slayer? What was wrong with him when his mate lay sleeping in his arms, and he was wistfully dreaming of holding that filthy cunt in his arms and kissing her tenderly?

He shrugged himself out from beneath Drusilla’s sleeping form, ignoring her quiet murmurs of discontent as the need to move, to KILL something overran him. He paced angrily around the bedchamber, eyes searching for something to destroy before settling on the collection of porcelain dolls; in a sweep of his arm they flew to the floor, shattered pieces of china flying in all directions. Furiously, he pulled on the strange trousers he had been wearing as he made his way out into the factory proper to vent his rage upon the remnants of Spike’s minions.

As the dust settled in the now all but abandoned factory, Angelus brushed his hands on his pants, eyes gleaming with evil delight at the violence he had just visited on the twenty-odd vampires who were now little more than fertiliser beneath his feet. His smile vanished and a deep growl sounded in his throat as he realised he no longer had any minions. Damn, I really have to learn to control my temper!

*****

That night, after everyone was asleep, Buffy made her way quietly down the stairs and through the house. The day had been spent in going over plans with her Watcher and researching through an endless number of boring books to find out anything they could about Angelus and Drusilla, all while the perfectly good source of information they had, sulked downstairs in the basement and refused any requests for his assistance. Then instead of patrolling, Giles had ordered—yes, ordered—her to stay indoors. Apparently he didn’t think she was capable of taking on Angelus and Dru by herself. Again, the sulking vampire downstairs was at fault; if he would go with her on patrol… but no, he doesn’t jump through hoops. Stupid vampire.

Which brought her back, once more, to the reason she was sneaking around the house in the middle of the night; that vampire and the way he was making her feel, not to mention the dream she’d had. There was just no way she was getting any sleep tonight until she had spoken to him and gotten this all worked out.

She paused, listening carefully for movement above in her mother’s room, but her ears were met with nothing but silence assuring her that her mother was soundly asleep; taking a deep, calming breath she continued on. The basement door opened without a sound, and she silently thanked her mother’s diligence when it came to keeping the hinges well-oiled.

As the door closed behind her, she found herself engulfed in total blackness. She closed her eyes to fight off the sudden wave of vertigo that the complete absence of any light. had brought on. After steadying herself for some minutes, one hand pressed against the wall for support, Buffy opened her eyes to find the darkness fractionally less complete; she was able now to make out vague shapes. The outline of the handrail was just visible a few feet to her right, and she carefully reached out for it.

“You were wantin’ something, Slayer?” Spike’s voice growled out of the darkness below. Damn, why can he see me when I can hardly see a foot in front of me? SO not fair!

“I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, yet she knew that the vampire would hear her.

“Well, better be getting your pretty arse down here then, ‘less you were plannin’ on a long-distance conversation?”

“I…” Buffy swallowed around the lump of fear in her throat. Oh God, this was a mistake, I shouldn’t be here. What am I doing sneaking around the house in the middle of the night to talk to the sexy vampire who I SO should not be down here talking to, but who won’t get out of my head, and… ok... I can do this, one foot in front of another, it’s as easy as that!

She tightened her grip on the railing and slowly descended the stairs, stumbling when she reached the bottom and the next step that she reached for was so not there. Strong arms caught her before she could fall; Spike steadied her before turning to lead her safely through the blanketing shadows, across the room to the relative safety of the cot.

Now that she was here Buffy couldn’t find the words to begin, so she sat awkwardly perched on the edge of the cot, her hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes downcast as she tried to summon the courage to tell the vampire what was on her mind. The silence stretched on, broken only by her ragged breathing and the pounding of her heart.

“Slayer?” Spike urged her quietly; her heart was pounding, and along with the scent of arousal he could smell her fear, and he knew that she was close to bolting. It was most likely only the all-encompassing darkness that was keeping here where she was. He sat down on the narrow bed next to her. “C’mon, slayer, whatever it is you’re here to say isn’t gonna go away just by…”

“I had a Slayer dream.” Buffy blurted the information out, and then drew a long shuddering breath before turning to stare into Spike’s face, his blue eyes still clearly visible through the gloom.

“”Kay… an’ that means?”

“Slayer dreams are like… well, they’re kind of a prophesy-type thing. They pretty much come true—not always exactly as I dream them, but close enough.”

“An’ how do you know this dream you had is a Slayer dream an’ not just any old dream?”

Buffy paused, looking off into the darkness. Ok… you can do this, you’ve come this far, so you can tell him the rest. But oh god, what if he just thinks I’ve lost it completely and laughs at me? Alright, Buffy, get over it. You can do this, deep breath and just, “Slayer dreams feel real, like you’re really there,” her voice was so quiet that only a vampire could possibly have heard her. “I dreamt about… I dreamt about you, you and me actually. We were… we kinda…”

The vampire’s indrawn hiss of air brought her to a stop. “Tell me about it,” he demanded. Softening his tone, he reached out and cupped her cheek gently with his hand, turning her face so that she was once again looking at him. “Everything, pet; tell me everything.”

Haltingly, she told him the details of the dream; when her discomfiture caused her to hesitate, he took up where she’d left off, filling her in on the remaining details and causing her to flush deeper with increased embarrassment. By the time he had finished, her face was hidden in her hands, mortified that Spike knew every intimate detail of the vivid Slayer dream she had had the night before.

Shifting closer to the girl, Spike gently lay a hand on her shoulder. “S’alright luv, shh… don’t get yourself upset ‘bout it. It was a dream, ‘s all.”

“How do you…”

“Yeah, well, here’s the interesting bit. It seems you an’ I had the same dream luv.”

“What? But how?” Her eyes widened as she realised the implications of that statement. “Oh! Oh, that means that you… and…”

“Don’t rightly know how or why Slayer, I just…”

“Buffy. Please Spike, will you call me Buffy? The Slayer is what I am, not who I am.” Her voice was stronger, more certain than it had been only moments before. “Ok, so what does this mean? I mean, there was the Slayer dream, and the kiss, and… well, that was...” She looked up at the now cockily grinning vampire, “Ok… it was ok,” she finished, hiding her own grin as she watched his reaction to her teasing.

“Ok, was it? I’ll show you bloody ok, wench,” Spike mock-growled at her. Buffy squeaked and shot up from the cot, giggling as she tried to make her way through the darkness to the stairs.

Spike pulled the Slayer tight against his body, pressing her close, feeling her heart pounding against him as his mouth slowly descended upon hers. He gently ran his tongue along her lower lip, asking for and receiving access; their tongues duelled, not the furious fight to the death one would expect from creatures such as they, but a slow sensual battle, each in turn giving and then retaking lost ground. Spike’s eyes fluttered closed, long lashes brushing gently against smooth pale skin; Buffy’s longing moan of pleasure exacted one of equal intensity from the vampire as he gathered her yet closer, aching desperately to feel her body as close to him as possible.

Seconds later he answered his own question, emphatically stamping down on the lingering doubts plaguing his subconscious.

‘Cause it feels better than anything you’ve ever known in your whole bleedin’ life or unlife, so stop your whinging and just enjoy it.

Gathering the girl into his arms, he carried her back to the cot; without losing contact with her mouth or body, he lay her down, covering her body with his and settling himself carefully between her jean-clad legs.

*****

An ear piercing scream echoed off the walls of the basement. “What in the name of all that is holy?” Xander’s face flushed with fury as he glared in horror at the sight before him.

The Slayer and the vampire lay entwined together on the narrow cot. He was spread-eagled on the bottom, and the Slayer slept draped across his body, her head pillowed on his chest. His arms, which were wrapped protectively around her, tightened further; amber eyes flashed and fangs surged forth as he shot awake with a growl, ready to defend the girl in his arms against whatever danger currently threatened them.

“Spike.” Her quiet voice and warm little hand placed gently on his arm were all it took to calm the vampire. He turned, blue eyes blazing, to look at her where she lay on the cot, having been deposited there when he flew out from under her. She was beautiful, no doubting that, but there was more... so much more. She radiated power, strength; she was the Slayer, and so help him she was his, of that he was certain; he would fight to keep her, and he would kill or die to defend her.

“You ‘l right, pet?” His head tilted slightly to the side, the sharp lines of his face softening as he looked at her with concern etched on his handsome features. He felt her hand tighten fractionally on his arm, giving him a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“Buff... wha’… why… HOW COULD YOU?” Xander’s face reddened further as he stammered in disgust, his eyes flicking back and forth between the vampire and the Slayer Buffy moved to sit up behind Spike, her arms snaking around him and her cheek nuzzling gently against his back.

“Buffy!”

“What, Xander?” Buffy glared at her friend before planting a kiss against Spike’s smooth skin and climbing out of the tiny bed. “How could I what?”

The boy, being too caught up in his own righteous indignation, missed the threatening tone of her voice and plundered on heedlessly. “How could you… that… with him? With that creature? He’s a thing Buffy! A dirty, disgusting, filthy thing!

“Ok, for starters, you have no idea what you are talking about. Spike is NOT a thing! He’s a vampire, yeah… ok… but not a thing. And secondly, it just so happens that he showed a hell of a lot more restraint, and was a hell of a lot more of a gentleman last night, than most human males would have been.” Buffy’s gaze narrowed as she fixed her eyes on the young man in front of her.

“Pet,” Spike’s voice was quiet and soothing as he tried to calm the irate girl; she looked for all the world as if she might knock the head clean off the stupid git who still didn’t have the sense to realise what kind of danger he was in.

“No, Spike, I have had just about enough of Mr High-and-Mighty Xander Harris and his idea of how I should live my life. Especially when he comes in here accusing you of being a thing, after the things he’s done….” She spun around, once more fixing her gaze on the boy. “How’s it go, Xan? Let he who is without sin… and… something about the throwing of stones.”

Spike ducked his head to hide the grin; wouldn’t be a good idea to have his Slayer know he was laughing at her, now would it?

Xander shook his head in disbelief, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on. You don’t think I actually bought that whole I don’t remember anything routine, do you? I mean, how lame was that? And you don’t think I actually forgot, do you, Xander? You think I conveniently forgot you trying to rape me?”

Before either of them could react, an angry, growling vampire in full gameface had Xander pinned by the throat against the far wall of the basement.

“You did what?” Spike growled.

“Spike, no!” Buffy practically flew across the room; grabbing Spike’s arm she willed the vampire to look at her. When he did, she smiled gently at him. “Please Spike, don’t. Let him go.” She removed one hand from his arm, and reached up to gently stroke his face, running her fingers tenderly over the rugged planes of the bumps and ridges that shaped his non-human features. “Please.”

He dropped the whelp to the ground and gathered Buffy close in his arms. “If he ever so much as lays a hand on you again, luv…”

“Shhh, its ok. Slayer, remember? I can take care of myself,” she chided him gently before burrowing into his chest. “But thanks for caring.”

As he nuzzled into her hair, planting soft kisses and breathing in her warm, living scent, Spike marveled at the array of choices that had led them to this point. Above all, the event of the previous night rang clearly through his mind.

*****

Her grip tightened on his bum, pulling him closer to her as she wiggled against his hard-on and caused him to cry her name, his voice harsh with lust and need. With a growl he pressed into her, swivelling his hips to elicit even greater sensations from each of them. He nibbled at her lips before moving to trail kisses and nips along her jaw to her neck, burrowing his face into the warm delight of her throat as he licked, nipped and gently sucked on the pulse point, all the while keeping up the torturous play of his hands and cock against her highly responsive flesh.

*****

Without so much as a backward glance at the boy laying on the ground clutching at his bruised throat, gasping for breath and reeking of his own urine, the pair made their way up the stairs to confront whatever other obstacles lay between them and the happiness they hoped they would find in each other.

They reached the kitchen, hands linked and fingers entwined, to come face to face with Buffy’s mother. She looked at the pair, and with a pointed look at the vampire asked, “I don’t need to be reminding you that Buffy is only sixteen, do I, Spike?”

Before Spike could answer Buffy spoke up, “No Mom, you really don’t.” She reached up with her free hand to stroke the sharp planes of Spike’s cheek, a gentle smile graced her face and her eyes gazed gratefully into his. Turning back to her mom, she spoke again. “Turns out our Big Bad here is a gentleman.” The chastising growl brought forth a burst of giggles as she turned once more to the now-scowling vampire. “What’s wrong, Spike? I promise, your secret is safe with us. Right, Mom?” she teased.

A genuine smile formed on Joyce’s face. “I promise, Spike. Not a word.”

*****

Joyce had gone to the gallery that day, and after a brief Scooby meeting, at which Xander was conspicuously absent, the gang had gone their separate ways. The lack of any further news in regard to the two brunette vampires left them with no option other than to wait and see what happened next. Eyes had opened wide and jaws had dropped when the Slayer and the vampire had walked into the room hand in hand. After a warning growl from Spike and a brief flash of amber eyes, no one had said a word.

Once everyone else was gone, Giles called Buffy aside… Spike smirked inwardly; as if he couldn’t hear anything they had to say, no matter where in the house the Watcher decided to have his little chat. After a very heated debate with Buffy, amongst other arguments, insisting that both she and Spike had shared a Slayer dream about them being together ‘and NO she did not want to share the details of said dream,’ Giles had relented, ‘against his better judgement’.

“I will be back this afternoon, Buffy. I would like to go over details of tonight’s patrol with you before you leave. I am assuming Spike is now willing to patrol with you?” At her nod, he had seen himself out, leaving the new couple to the peace of an empty house for the remainder of the day.

They spent the rest of the day cuddled together on the couch, alternating between watching the TV... how can Spike possibly like that show… and sharing searing, bone-melting kisses.

*****

The sun had only recently set when a timid knock sounded from the front door. Joyce moved to answer it, only to be stopped.

“Mom, wait... I’ll get it.” Buffy grabbed a stake and glanced at her Watcher, indicating silently that he take care of her mother, before she moved to the door, shadowed closely by the highly alert vampire.

The door opened to reveal a small bespectacled man, trembling slightly with fear. Before Buffy could say a word, a deep English voice drawled from behind her, “Well, well, Dalton. So tell me, mate, did Angelus send you?”

TBC

Chapter 6 by icemink

Betaed by the fabulous Megan.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. I just play with Joss' toys.

Dalton was nervous as he approached the house on Revello drive, but he didn't see what other choice he had. If someone had told the vampires that had served the Master, the Anointed One, and Spike that Dalton would be the last man standing, they all would have laughed. None of them had ever thought much of Dalton.

Even Dalton knew he wasn't much of a vampire. Thirty years prior, the Master had sent some of his followers to kidnap the leading Medieval scholar at UC Sunnydale. The Master had been feeling nostalgic, and wanted someone to talk to about his youth. He'd been so entertained by the frightened professor that he'd turned him.

For about five years, Dalton had lived a sort of exulted lifestyle. He was the Master's constant companion. He didn't even have to hunt. Since the Master could not leave his prison beneath the Hellmouth, his followers had to bring him victims to feed on. Dalton was allowed to share in this no-risk form of feeding.

Unlife had seemed good back then. He had been sired by an ancient and powerful vampire - one who had lived through the history that had always intrigued Dalton. An eternity of study and discovery had lay ahead of him.

Then the Master got bored. Dalton fell out of favor, and suddenly nothing was right anymore. Dalton ended up at the bottom of the pack. He wasn't a hunter; wasn't a fighter. Sure, he had the strength and speed of all vampires, but he wasn't a match for the other undead who followed the Master.

He became everyone's whipping dog. The female vampires who had been more than happy to sleep with him when he'd been the Master's favorite, now beat him relentlessly. It was like High School all over again, except that this would go on forever. At least when he'd been alive, he had had position and respect among his colleagues. All that was gone now.

Then came Spike. Dalton could still remember the arrival of the most junior member of the Aurelian line. The night that Spike threw the Anointed One into a cage and hauled him into the sun was possibly the happiest of Dalton's unlife.

When the Master had been destroyed, Dalton had expected the Anointed One to meet a fate much like Dalton's. The strongest members of the clan should have fought it out to see who their new leader would be. Instead, they all fell into line behind the Anointed One. A <i>boy</i> who also had never hunted.

But Spike had come and set things right. Dalton may not have especially liked the vampiric pecking order based on viciousness, but it still felt natural and right to him. Spike had restored that order.

More than that, soon after taking power, Spike had found Dalton among his books. The new leader found work for him. Dalton was useful to Spike's quest to restore Drusilla, and so had regained some small measure of his former status. As long as he was useful to Spike, none of the others were allowed to abuse him anymore. Spike was the only one he had to fear.

At first Dalton had thought to draw out the process. Delay the finding of Drusilla's cure and the end of his usefulness. Then one day he'd found Spike pilfering a copy of <i>Sense and Sensibility</i> from Dalton's library. Spike had taken the book, and threatened to kill Dalton if he told anyone. Dalton had promised, but from that day on, Dalton had loved Spike. Spike wasn't just another thug, but a cultured man like Dalton, forced to wear a mask in order to survive.

After that day, Dalton had secretly smuggled Spike other books, hoping that some day Spike would take him into his confidence. Hoped that maybe they could sit and talk about their favorite authors. But it never happened. Spike never showed the slightest interest in Dalton - except for whether or not he was closer to helping Drusilla.

That's when Dalton came up with his plan. It took only a minor alteration to the ritual to ensure that Angel and Drusilla were bonded together for eternity. Drusilla would then leave Spike, and Dalton would be there to comfort him.

He hadn't expected for Angel to lose his soul, however, and that had caused problems. Not only had Angelus displaced Spike, he'd gone on a killing rampage, destroying all that was left of the Master's followers. Only Dalton had escaped. The others had been too stupid to see that this wasn't a new leader killing off a minion or two to show his power, but an out of control vampire who would destroy everything in sight.

Dalton had escaped carrying with him only one thing: Spike's journal. Dalton had seen Spike write in it once or twice, when the master vampire thought no one was watching. When things had gone south at the church, Dalton had freed the small leather bound book from its hiding place and fled to the basement of Sunnydale High, the last place any vampire would look for him. He'd hoped to gain access to the Watcher's library, try and find a way to salvage what had happened. That proved trickier than he'd imagined. He couldn't move around the school during the day because of all the students, and the Watcher kept late hours. Dalton didn't want to risk running into the Slayer, so he was forced to wait until late at night to do his research. He couldn't even take any of the books with him. He was sure that the Watcher would notice anything out of place.

The rest of his time was spent reading Spike's journal. He'd always wanted to read the small volume, but had never dared before. Now Spike's life was literally an open book to Dalton. The journal began during William's adolescence and Dalton began to feel closer and closer to the vampire he'd come to respect and love. William's adolescence was much like Dalton's high school and vampiric experiences combined.

William had suffered levels of abuse within the Victorian boarding school he'd attended that paralleled what Dalton had experienced since his fall from the Master's grace. William had been used and abused by the stronger boys in the school - from the day he entered, to the day he left.

His negative experiences had lead to William's romanticizing of women. William came to believe in them as the absolute paragons of virtue; angel's often sullied by their contact with the crude men they lived amongst. Dalton forgave Spike this misconception of women. Spike could hardly be blamed for being a product of his times. Dalton still hoped to show Spike how much purer things could be between two men.

The journal went on to describe William's years at Oxford. William had never finished his education due to his mother taking ill. He'd returned to London to care for her. Even though Dalton had never gotten along with his own mother, he respected William for sacrificing so much to take care of his.

Then came Drusilla, and William became Spike. Dalton couldn't help but wonder how the man whose background Dalton thought was so similar to his own, could turn into a vampire so different from Dalton. Where Dalton was a failure, Spike had triumphed. Spike had become strong and fierce.

It was a mystery Dalton had no answers to. After all, Dalton was a childe of the Master himself. He should have been stronger and tougher than most other vampires, but he wasn't.

He was smarter, though. Although he'd found several spells that might have helped, none of them seemed to be just right. Then good fortune had shone down on him. Sneaking through the school halls last night, he'd overheard the computer teacher who was dating the Watcher talking to an old gypsy.

Even so, he was nervous as he stood outside of the house on Revello Drive. Spike might blame him for what had gone wrong and not give him a chance to explain.

Finally Dalton worked up his courage and knocked on the door. After a moment the door opened to reveal the Slayer holding a stake. Spike stood right behind her.

"Well, well, Dalton. So tell me, <b>mate,</b> did Angelus send you?"

"N-n-no."

Dalton stuttered, not out of fear, but anger. Both Spike and the Slayer smelled of each other and of lust. Spike's great love - Drusilla - had left him and what had Spike done? Had he pined away, broken from heartbreak, waiting for someone to show him all the possibilities the world still held for him? No, he'd gone and jumped in bed with the first slut that crossed his path.

Dalton reigned in his anger for the moment and continued. "Angelus. He killed them. Killed them all. He got mad. I don't know at what, and. . ."

"Wow. With enemies like that. . ." Buffy left the sentence to dangle. "Guess Angelus isn't the sharpest fang in the bunch, is he? Makes my job easier."

Spike turned to her, ignoring Dalton. "Don't get cocky, luv. Angelus is dangerous enough on his own. Can't say I'm entirely upset about him thinning the ranks. Does make things easier for us, but this still isn't a cake walk."

"Well, guess we might as well finish the job," the Slayer said shrugging.

She stepped across the threshold of the house, her stake raised.

"W-w-wait!" Dalton pleaded back away from her. "I can help. It's why I came here."

"He seems nice enough. And not really dangerous. Do you really have to kill him, Buffy? Maybe we should listen to why he came here?" an older woman said. Dalton assumed she was the Slayer's mother.

"Ms. Summers," the Watcher said. All four of them were now gathered around the doorway to the house discussing Dalton as if he wasn't there. "I assure you, whatever his appearance, no vampire should be underestimated." The last part seemed to be directed at the Slayer.

"Please," Spike broke in. "Dalton's about as dangerous as a used tea-bag."

That was final straw. Dalton knew he wasn't a great fighter - that he was a sloppy hunter. But by now he thought Spike would have come to appreciate the other more important qualities he possessed. As the others continued to argue about whether to kill him or hear him out, Dalton made up his mind. He'd show Spike just how dangerous a clever mind could be. Him and his Slayer whore.

"I think I know how to restore Angelus's soul," Dalton blurted out.

The argument stopped as four sets of eyes turned with surprise to look at the bookish vampire. Dalton smiled. Yes, he knew exactly the spell for his revenge. And if he could get access to the Watcher's library, what could possibly go wrong?


To be continued. . .

by Spikesdeb

tag you're it.

END OF THE BLOODY LINE CHAPTER 7 – ROUND ROBIN FIC

BY SPIKESDEB

BETA’D BY NANALOU

RATING : R

Dalton hovered on the perimeter of the Slayer’s home, unable to enter without an invitation. Four pairs of eyes were fixed on him, each with a maelstrom of emotions swirling in their depths. He’d made the decision to wreak his revenge but now he’d blurted out the trigger words, he felt nauseous. Spike was right, he wasn’t dangerous at all, a poor excuse for a demon in fact; but as a scholar he was second to none, graduated top of his class and the youngest professor in living memory. He would focus on his strengths; he may be a vampire in the same way that he was a male, but he was more than that. He’d show Spike, show the Slayer, show them all.

The older man, the Watcher, spoke first. “Invite him in, Mrs Summers.”

The Slayer’s mother looked panicked, glancing at her daughter for guidance. She’d noted that the visitor didn’t look dangerous but knew all too well how deceptive appearances could be. Mr Giles had in fact just reminded her of that fact. She really didn’t know what to do; this was outside her realm of experience. This was Buffy’s world.

“Buffy?”

Buffy stared at her feet. It was all too much. She’d just got used to the fact that the man…demon…she thought she was in love with wasn’t what he seemed, and had just agreed to see an end to him. She was making mooneyes at a soulless vampire who made her tingle all over in ways she’d never imagined. Her mom was coming back from freak city following the revelation of her slayer status plus her near death. And now this. Now she had to make a choice. Angel, souled up and brooding or…or…what she had now and the possibilities of what could be. Oh, and let’s not forget the Slayer dream, the one with the hands and the tongues and the heavy breathing. It was just…too much. She couldn’t do this.

Spike stood off to one side, to all intents and purposes completely indifferent to the drama playing out in front of him. He leaned against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, a bored expression on his face. But, to anyone who knew him, even slightly, it was obvious that something painful was taking place. And Dalton did know him. Looking at the pain in those sapphire blue eyes, the scholarly vampire’s resolve wavered. He wanted nothing more than to show his mentor exactly what comfort and joy could be had in the embrace of a masculine body. But noting the flicker of Spike’s eyes towards the bowed head of the Slayer, the slight movement hinting at his internal battle with his need to comfort her – his stance told Dalton everything he needed to know. No matter what happened, Spike would never seek him out, never regard him as anything other than a sad and sorry loser with poor eyesight and questionable hunting skills. He was done with being overlooked; there was more than one way to skin a cat.

Buffy paced, arms crossed over her chest. Joyce was at a loss, unsure what to do – a vampire in the hallway, a vampire outside the door. This was the stuff of nightmares.

“Buffy…what should I do? Shall I ask him in?”

It was Buffy’s turn to be stared at by all present as they waited for her reply. She couldn’t meet any of their eyes. Without looking up, Buffy nodded.

“Please, come in.”

Spike moved away from the wall, arms suddenly at his side. He took two steps towards the Slayer, eyes wide with disbelief, one hand raised to touch her arm. She’d really done it. She’d chosen that sanctimonious bastard with a rickety soul over him. Was that it? Were they done?

She wouldn’t even look at him. Dalton watched the interplay with interest. So, the bright and burning Slayer abandoned Spike once she thought her dark knight would be back to shower her with cool kisses? So be it. The game was afoot.

Buffy turned and pounded up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door like the sixteen-year-old girl she was. She couldn’t deal with what was happening so she shut it out.

The silence was awkward, like a streaker had just run through a convent. Spike was frozen where Buffy had left him – hand reaching out to the void she’d left. Giles cleared his throat awkwardly, muttering something about making tea for everyone.

Dalton took a step over the threshold, unhindered, prompting Giles into inquisitor mode, firing questions, his Watcher genes kicking in. Dalton let himself wallow in the Watcher’s effervescence – this was more like it, at last somebody recognised his worth. Spike had remained rooted to the spot, eyes shadowed and tear-filled, staring up the stairwell towards the Slayer’s room. Joyce had been watching him and her reservations melted. This wasn’t some demonic monster in front of her; this was a man with a poet’s heart. In all the time she’d known Angel, he had never shown this level of dedication and adoration for her daughter. And even though, if she was honest, the thought of her daughter dating a demon made her cringe and reach for the schnapps bottle, she’d rather the demon at least made her happy. And Spike did; she saw it clearly, Buffy had had a new glow about her.

Moving to the vampire, she touched him lightly on the shoulder, but he shrugged her off. Reaching for a cigarette, he stomped away down to the basement, not a word spoken. So Joyce found herself alone in the middle of the hallway, the open door framing her in twilight. Giles and Dalton had taken themselves off into the dining room and were sorting books in piles before them. Joyce looked outside, now she knew about the monsters that went bump in the night she’d never be able to fully shut them out. The slam of the door closing showed just how much she wished she could.

Joyce hesitated before going up to talk to Buffy. She would have liked to check on Spike but her maternal instincts were screaming at her to see to her only child. She’d call in on him later, needing to assure herself he would be all right. A final look at the academics seated at her dining table, and she took herself off upstairs to start working through the turmoil.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Angelus was delighting in torture, the clinking-chains mood music stirred his memory as he admired the S & M scene he’d laid out with Drusilla as the central exhibit. The insane vampiress was writhing in ecstasy, her white skin peppered with bite marks and gashes where her demon lover had torn at her flesh. And every mark aroused her even further. Angelus lazily selected a heavy barbed whip from the pile at the side of the bed, flicking it across Dru’s bare abdomen. She gasped at the painful caress then giggled as Angelus lapped at the trail of blood left by the barbs.

But, somehow…it wasn’t as satisfying as it should be. It was beginning to irritate him. He had the girl, the one he’d devoted years to, moulded to his whim by insanity and then dragged down into depravity; he had all the toys he could wish for, enough to strip the flesh from her body if the fancy took him. He’d completely decimated the remnants of the Master’s entourage, and as a happy by-product had eradicated all of Spike’s minions too. Yeah, he was surely on a roll.

So why the hell was he so uneasy?

Snarling in frustration, he flung the whip across the room to scatter the recently repaired dolls neatly arranged against the wall. Drusilla started keening as her beloved babies hit the floor in a crash of shattered porcelain. “Miss Edith! Mummy’s here…”

Angelus leapt at her bound figure, pinning her to the bed with his bulk. “Fuck the dollies, Dru! You’re supposed to be thinking of me…only me!” He sank his fangs viciously into the fleshy part of her upper arm, wrenching them out to leave torn and bloody flesh. Drusilla’s pain fought with the pleasure of her lover’s bite as she bucked her hips seeking friction. Her legs were roughly forced apart by heavy thighs, meaty hands pawing at her breasts and digging into the soft flesh of her belly. Angelus sank his thick cock inside her, fucking her mercilessly in an effort to assuage his restlessness. Ignoring her increasingly frantic efforts to angle his thrusts so as to gain her own completion, he pounded on, soon filling her with his cool semen and leaving her desperate for release. Dru’s cry of want washed over him and he gave her a cruel smile. He could never have too many ways to torture her.

Leaving her writhing body manacled to the bed, he sprang away to grab his clothes. Once he was dressed - all black leather and satin - he turned back to the hissing vampire left naked and unsatisfied and threw her the key to the handcuffs. When she couldn’t get the key into the lock, he relented, but only because it was delaying his plans. He freed her bruised wrists, and caressed her cheek in passing. He didn’t love her any less, it was just that he felt he was missing something…something he had no way of identifying. A spot of mindless violence may do the trick for him, and maybe then he could fuck Drusilla upside down on the bodies of innocents. Yeah, that was a plan.

Mood changing abruptly, Angelus swept his dark haired lover off her feet, swinging her round before setting her down with a bruising kiss.

“Get dressed, Dru. We’ve mayhem to make and minions to recruit. Can’t have your pretty hands getting soiled with housework, now can we?”

Drusilla nodded, unsure what to make of her mercurial sire. But, his plan sounded like fun, and Miss Edith would be here when she returned. She quickly shrugged on her slip and dress, turning round in a wordless request for Angelus to lace her up. He did so, hurriedly, anxious to get to the kill.

Hand in hand, they left their lair in search of slaughter and servants.

Down by the Fish Tank the two master vampires found a trio of fledglings feeding off an unfortunate barfly. A quick flash of fang and an intrusive stare from Drusilla had the three youngsters fawning over their elders like puppies. Five minutes later, Angelus stood in the midst of some thirty-odd vampires bowing down in supplication while Drusilla skipped around the edges, eyes turned heavenwards as she communed with the stars. The former leader of the cadre was dust; the momentary inconvenience of his refusal to submit to the new regime solved by one twist of Angelus’ hands around his neck. The few others who chose to make a stand soon joined their erstwhile leader as floor covering.

It was astonishingly easy, but they’d have to shape up if they wanted his protection. The line of Aurelius didn’t suffer fools.

Drusilla’s piercing shriek drew his attention away from a blonde beauty currently working her way with her hands up his legs. Stilling the greedy fingers with a snarl, his eyes sought out his distressed mate. Shrugging off the clinging vampiress, he leapt over the grovellers on the floor and scooped Drusilla up in both arms, cradling her to his chest.

“Shh, Dru…shh; Daddy’s got you now. Shh…”

“No, no…I can’t abide it…my Angelus…nooooo.”

Angelus strode through the deserted house in which they’d engaged the minions; on finding an empty room he tossed his weeping mate on the filthy bed.

“Dru, darling…talk to me? You saw something, what is it?”

Drusilla stilled, her body rigid as she gripped his arms and pulled him towards her. She looked on his face, her eyes dripping tears.

“I saw them, Angelus…I saw the two of them. They were laughing at us, and then… The Slayer and Spike, wrapped around each other, kissing and fucking and…. we were there, you and I….”

She started wailing, Angelus soothing her with kisses and patting her hair.

“They’ll be our end, Angelus…bound together we were, helpless and naked. They pawed at each other, laughing…then the Slayer…she had a stake…my Spike…he told her to do it …and then she leant over and we…we were gone…pouf! No more Dru, no more Angelus…and they were laughing and laughing...”

Her howl of anguish echoed around the shabby building, and nothing Angelus did could console her.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A soft knock at the door didn’t evoke any response. Joyce rapped harder. Silence.

“Buffy? Can I come in?”

“Not now, mom, just leave me alone. I’ll be down later.”

Joyce tried the handle; it wasn’t locked so she let herself in quietly, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it. Buffy’s tearstained face turned towards her mother, the little girl longing to throw herself into her mom’s arms and make the world go away. But the Slayer – the woman emerging from the shadow of the teenager – couldn’t let herself take that comfort. This was her problem and she’d deal with it in her own way. No one else was going to put this right, just her alone. Alone, as the Slayer should be.

Joyce could see the conflict on her daughter’s face and her heart ached for her. It was a tough lesson when life’s problems were no longer something mom could fix with a wave of her magic wand. Her little girl was all grown up.

“Buffy, please. Talk to me. I only want to help you.”

Hesitantly, she sat on the bed next to her daughter and took the small hand in hers. Buffy’s body slumped. It would be so easy to snuggle to her mom’s side, inhale that unique scent of lemongrass and fabric softener that meant safe haven. But she couldn’t; not this time. Angelus was out there, and he’d be coming for her. Nobody would be safe from him. And yet Dalton said he could be re-ensouled. Shouldn’t she be happy about that, delirious almost that she could have him back? It would solve the Angelus equation – Angelus + soul = Angel, broody, loving, non-killing Angel. End of problem.

Except that it wasn’t. She wasn’t sure she wanted Angel anymore. She was so confused! The touch of Spike’s hands, his lips…nothing had ever felt more right in all of her life. The night in the basement, sleeping wrapped in his arms. Heaven. And to walk away from that…she wasn’t sure she’d be able to. Even if she did, there was still the Slayer dream. This wasn’t her first, and they had a habit of coming true. Hell, Spike had the same dream! That couldn’t be a coincidence, not on the Hellmouth. Her uncertainty showed on her face, the hitched breathing, the flushed cheeks, the tear-filled eyes.

It was too much for Joyce. She gathered her daughter into her arms, rocking her and kissing her hair.

“Oh Buffy, my darling. Talk to me, please - tell me what you’re thinking. I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

Buffy sobbed a little, the rocking motion almost hypnotising her. As she calmed she pushed herself up from her mother’s embrace. She couldn’t afford to be weak now, too much was at stake.

So she told her mom about the dream…without the Playboy channel details…but let her know that slayer dreams almost always came true. She told her that she believed she would be with Spike, that she felt whole when he was with her in a way she’d never thought she would. She told her mom how being the slayer was making her hard, unable to let herself be entirely at ease, but that with Spike she could finally let the barriers down. With Angel it had been different, shy almost, first love. A love shattered now by her knowledge of the vicious creature he truly was.

“Buffy…I can’t pretend that I understand all of this…it’s all been such a shock to me. First, I’m told you’re dead, that you’re ‘the Slayer’…a girl with superpower. Then I’m emphatically convinced that vampires and demons are real when one shows up at my door with you in his arms - alive. Not only that, I then see you kissing him…yes, I know, you didn’t know I was there. The thing is, Buffy, I’m not blind – I see the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him. I believe he cares for you, deeply. And I know you care for him too. I can see it; it’s in your eyes and your actions.”

Buffy hung her head. Every word her mother said was true. She did care for Spike, more than she wanted to confess. But Angel…Angelus…whatever he was, he had been her first love. Didn’t she owe it to him to help him become what he was? Aaargh! She felt like screaming.

“Buffy, right now I’m just as confused as you. But I do know that there’s a…man … in our basement every bit as desperate as you are. He’s hurt and that bothers me more than I like to admit. Whatever you do I’ll support you because I trust your judgment. But you have to think about what you’re doing, the consequences to everybody. Everybody.”

Sitting back, Buffy’s head now resting on her shoulder, Joyce continued speaking softly.

“Tell me about Angelus.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dalton had proven to be an exceptional researcher, devouring all the books at the Summers’ residence at breakneck speed and requesting more, being very specific about the volumes he required. Giles found it refreshing; usually he had to spoon feed his research assistants in order to get any results…apart from Willow, of course. She was refreshingly diligent.

Having exhausted materials and Joyce being otherwise engaged, Giles had escorted the bookish vampire to his car and ferried him to the apartment. Strangely, it was only the fact that the vampire paused at the door that reminded him of the nature of his guest. Sternly berating himself that the slight, myopic figure on his doorstep was a vicious killer, he reached for his crossbow before inviting Dalton inside.

Dalton blinked owlishly as the bright light played havoc with his eyesight. Eventually he managed to focus and stepped over the threshold, eyes fixed on the lethal weapon aimed in his direction.

“In there,” Giles gestured, never taking his eyes from Dalton’s stooped form. They made their way over to the table in the middle of the room on which rested more books, some open at marked pages. They sat either side of the table, eyeing each other warily – one the predator, one the hunted. But which was which?

“Look,” Dalton started wearily. “We both want the same result, right? Angel, not Angelus?”

Giles nodded.

“Well, stop looking at me like I’m about to rip your throat out. It’s a nice throat by the way, very…cultured. But for now, I’ve other priorities.”

Giles considered the words and the situation. He’d play nice. He deliberately placed the crossbow out of reach, then leaned back in his chair arms crossed.

“Ok, Dalton. I’m willing to cooperate, as long as we have the same goal. What do you know?”

This was it. This was when he had to play his joker. How much did he tell the Watcher? Everything? Nothing? The man was shrewd and wouldn’t be fooled easily. Perhaps honesty would be best. Rupert Giles was not unknown to him. He wore the face of a bumbling book-lover, but there had to be more to him. His reputation in the demon world was subject to speculation. There were rumours that in his youth he’d dabbled with demon worship, thrown his lot in with a minor Dagon sex and drugs sect. Hard to believe looking at the tweed-clad figure before him. But then…wasn’t that the same assumption others made about him? And how wrong they were. He was about to prove it.

“The spell, the one used to cure Drusilla. It didn’t go wrong; I changed it a little. I did it for Spike, not that he’d notice of course. Not even a thank you, can you believe it? I tried to rid him of that crazy woman and not even that made him see me as anything other than a failure. I handed him his freedom after years of pandering to her idiotic demands and what does he do with it? Rushes straight into the Slayer’s arms.”

Dalton studied the Watcher carefully for any reaction. There was none up until he mentioned the Slayer; then the clenched jaw and sharply indrawn breath told it all. He’d been right to tell the truth; this man would help him. He didn’t want Spike anywhere near his Slayer. They had more in common than they thought.

“So, it was you who removed Angel’s soul? Well done! Great job!”

The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Dalton. He coughed uneasily and shifted in his seat.

“That wasn’t my intention. It was…unexpected. It was only meant to bind Angel and Drusilla together so that they’d leave, so that Spike wouldn’t have to be hanging on Drusilla’s skirts for all eternity. My research said nothing about losing his soul.”

“Well, as Angel was the only vampire with a soul, it hardly seems as though spells would come with a handy warning regarding same now does it? Do you have any idea of the danger you’ve unleashed?”

Dalton couldn’t hide a smug grin; dangerous as an old teabag was he? Seemed as though he’d done pretty well for a fangless vampire. At Giles’ pointed cough, the smile slid from his face. Not a good idea to bask in his evil plan when he wanted help from the white hats to overturn said plan.

“Yes, quite. I see that I erred in my research. But it’s a temporary impediment; I know how to restore Angelus’ soul. Once that is done things will be as they were, Angel will be all over his Slayer, Drusilla and Spike will resume their twisted games. I just need your assistance.”

Giles sighed, removed his glasses and gave them a quick polish. Replacing them on his nose, he made a decision. “All right. You’re sure you can do this?”

At the answering nod, he continued. “Tell me what you need. You are of course quite right; we both want the same end result. I really don’t care what happens to Spike and Drusilla as long as they are far away from Buffy. To be frank, I’d prefer it if Angel left too. But the danger posed by Angelus is very real and immediate. He’s relentless and won’t rest until he’s slaughtered Buffy and everyone dear to her, I’ve gleaned that much from my reading already. It would appear that the best way to restore the status quo is to give Angel back his soul - if such a thing is even possible. Where did you find the spell?”

Dalton considered his position; he didn’t trust the Watcher and knew that the feeling was mutual. The moment his usefulness was over, he’d be nothing more than a pile of dust to be swept away. No, he would play his cards close to his chest, only reveal enough to get what he wanted. The ultimate component, the actual incantation, he would keep to himself. That way he’d be in control. And there was of course the final twist; the original spell to re-ensoul a vampire wouldn’t work here: the spell used to bind Angel and Drusilla had transmuted due to the presence of the soul. To restore it, there would have to be a vampire sacrifice.

Happily, they had one available.

With a final recollection of Spike’s dismissive attitude and the way he’d looked at the Slayer stinging his emotions, Dalton outlined his plan for Giles’s approval. When he finished, the Watcher sat back in his chair, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

“I’d say that would work admirably.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He heard soft footsteps on the basement stairs and knew by the way the back of his neck tingled that it was the Slayer. He was torn between wanting to grab her to him, make her forget that Angel had ever existed, and wanting to slap her around for being such a feckless, deceitful bint. She’d said there was something between them and yet at the first mention of Soul Boy she’d denied him, nodded her assent to let that wanker Dalton start with the research. Bitch.

Her voice cut through his musings.

“Spike…I...we need to talk. There are things I need to explain to you. Please.”

The plaintive sound of her stifled sob was his undoing. He got to his feet and walked to her as she descended the last step. They stood, eyes locked, neither able to make the first move. Ever Love’s Bitch, Spike caved and reached for her hand, drawing her close. Buffy sagged against him, her arms entwined around his back squeezing him to her. Good job he didn’t need to breathe because there was no room for him to inflate his lungs within her fierce embrace.

He gathered her up in his arms, enjoying the warmth of her breath on his neck and sat on the cot with her cradled on his lap. When she’d calmed a little, he placed a quick kiss on the top of her head and pushed her hair back so that he could see her face.

“Talk to me Buffy. I’m not going anywhere luv, only if you kick me out.” He gave her a lopsided grin that had her crying again.

“Hey, hey! Come on now; thought you were the Slayer, pet. If you keep on like this I may just have to tell the demon community what a softy you are. Look at me…that’s better. So, tell me what’s going on in that pretty little noggin of yours.”

“Oh Spike. Why do things have to be so complicated? I’m so scared of getting it all wrong. If I mess up…”

“Not gonna happen. You’ve got your bloody friends and Watcherman to help you out – they always seem to come up with something; yours truly speaks from painful experience. And your mum, she’s quite a feisty bird. I still have nightmares about her standing over me with that buggering axe!”

Buffy managed a small giggle, which was exactly what Spike was aiming for. She relaxed a little in his arms. Spike stayed silent, enjoying the moment and letting her continue at her own pace.

“Thing is, I really thought I loved him, you know? The whole white wedding and picket fence love - though deep down I knew that was never gonna happen. In my head, it would be perfect, idyllic. Didn’t matter that it was a dream, I never let myself dwell on the impossibilities.”

“That’s what first love’s all about, pet. Doesn’t matter that it’ll never work, you gotta keep on believing.”

Buffy nodded slightly, catching her bottom lip between small white teeth.

“But now; I feel like I didn’t even know him – not really. All the time he had this monster inside him, soulless, a killer.”

Spike stilled, uncomfortably aware that she was describing him also. Buffy didn’t notice and carried on talking.

“All it took for that monster to come out was some magic, a spell. And I was building my whole life around him, not knowing. I thought he was different.”

Buffy finally noticed the unyielding body she was leaning against.

“Oh, Spike! I didn’t mean…I’m sorry…don’t think I meant..…”

“It’s alright, luv. Not said anything that’s a lie. I am a monster, a killer. Never tried to hide it. It’s my nature, can’t change the facts to suit.”

“But why are you so different then? If you haven’t got a soul, why aren’t you like Angelus? Why are you helping me? Why do you…care for me?”

The last words were whispered, Buffy’s voice faltering as she met his deep blue eyes. His emotions were swirling, blazing in their depths. Without conscious thought she leaned into him brushing his lips with hers as she brought her hand up to caress the back of his neck. Spike hesitated, not wanting to take advantage of her fraught state. But the flick of her tongue against his teeth took away all restraint and he crushed her to him, devouring her mouth, pouring into the kiss all the feelings he was struggling to deal with.

With a growl, he pushed her away again. He couldn’t handle this, not now. He’d told her they needed to wait and he believed it. Just wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep from ripping at her clothes if she kept writhing on his lap like she was. Panting, he cupped her face in his hands, willing her to understand. He saw the fight inside her as she struggled with her own unaccustomed feelings for him, the musk of her arousal told its own story, the need to be held almost painful. The Slayer part of her was submerged by her hunger to connect to him and assuage the yearning started by the dream; hell, his demon was having a hard time coming to the fore from behind the poet so he knew what she was going through.

If he didn’t take charge, they’d be lying in sweat-soaked sheets just waiting for Angelus to off them both. And Dalton, the prick, he never got anything right anyway so he wasn’t really bothered that the loser thought he could give Angelus his soul back. He wouldn’t be able to pull it off. But then…she wasn’t to know that, she’d chosen to give Angelus another shot at his soul. The demon inside him roared.

Sliding Buffy off his lap abruptly, he stood, reaching for a cigarette and pacing. All the hurt he’d felt when she told her mum to let that git in hit him hard again. Another bloody woman treating him like he was just…convenient. Well, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. If she wanted to choose Angel, she could bloody well have him! He couldn’t look at her though; he knew that if he saw one tear, one tremble of her lip he’d be putty in her hands again.

“Look, luv. I know you’ll always love Angel, no matter what you’re saying now. Thing is, Dru and me’ll always have a history too, you know? She was my saviour, brought me out of mediocrity and gave me a whole new life. I owe her. So yeah, she’s always had a thing for her ‘daddy’, shagged him silly every chance she got. What? Didn’t you know about Angel’s Dru kink? Yeah, she was Angelus’ great creation – I’ll tell you the tale one day. But she always comes back to me. I’ll slap her around a bit, torture her ‘til she screams then things can get back to normal.”

He took a drag on the cigarette, filling his dead lungs. Buffy was silent behind him. He turned to face her.

“So, you see – do what you have to do. This thing between us – it’s not something that either of us wanted, yeah? It’s not even bloody feasible! Vampire – vampire slayer; not exactly happy ending material, is it? And, as you’ve said, a vampire is what I am – I’m a demon, a monster, a killer. I am, Buffy – no point denying it. Maybe the Slayer dream was just a little bit of wishful thinking on both our parts. I’ve always had a hankering to get in your pants, luv, ever since I saw you shimmyin’ about in that halter top and painted on jeans in the Bronze. And you can’t deny you’re attracted to me – I can smell you, those lovely juices all luscious in your knickers. I suppose we just got caught up in some rogue Hellmouth mindfuck.”

He wasn’t even convincing himself now. How could he hope to be getting through to Buffy? Still she sat silently, absorbing every word he spoke. He babbled on, unable to stop, as he paced up and down gesturing with his cigarette.

“And, if you get Angel all souled up again, you can go back to your life, I’ll go back to mine. We’ll forget all about this…whatever this is. I’ll take Dru and skedaddle, never darken your door again.” The thought of leaving Buffy forever was like a knife in the heart and he stopped, running out of steam.

He heard the creak of the cot’s springs as Buffy got to her feet. He didn’t turn, thinking she was heading off up the stairs, and couldn’t bear to see her walking away from him. The soft tap on his shoulder made him jump.

“Spike. Turn round.”

He turned, unable to deny her anything, desperately trying to affect the ‘big bad’ swagger but failing to hide his poet’s heart. Buffy reached out one hand to caress his sculpted cheek, her eyes wet with tears and a shaky smile on her lips.

“You are an ass, you know that? I come down here to tell you that I’m all confused, hoping that you’ll kiss me into a coma and I’ll not have to make a choice at all. Instead, you prattle on about me still loving Angel when I’ve quite clearly just told you that I don’t think I do. You virtually parcel me up and send me back to him, making me almost pop with jealousy when you mention Drusilla.”

Spike’s eyes widened in shock.

“And then you deliver the sucker punch with the whole ‘I’ll take Dru and skedaddle’ thingy.”

Spike snorted. “Buffy, that’s the worst English accent I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, you make me mad. I’m not sure what’s happening here, but I am sure I don’t want it to stop. I’d like to see where it goes…that’s if you’d like to.”

She moved towards him, gripping his cool hand in hers and continuing her speech.

“See, what I’ve decided is that for the good of puppies and Christmas, we should give Angel his soul back because Angelus…not big on the whole caring for humanity gig. But…”

Buffy raised her finger to place on his lips as he tried to pull away from her, a sneer forming.

“But, Spike…that is all. Nothing else. This thing between us, I really think we should find out more. And the dream? Well, it was amazing…but I’d like to see if the reality is better. What do you say?”

Spike said nothing, merely pushing her roughly against the wall and peppering her lips with bites and kisses until she was dizzy.

Neither of them saw or heard their observers as they retreated back up the stairs. Giles’ eyes were hard and determined as he spoke to the vampire.

“Dalton. Just do it. Leave Spike to me. Tell Buffy we need a vampire sacrifice; just don’t tell her that we’ve already earmarked the victim. She’s emotionally unstable. We’ll have to make the decisions for her. She’ll thank me in the end.”



Over to you Diabola!
 

Chapter 8

by Diabola

Beta'd by AmyB and Always_jbj

It had been three days since Buffy had made the decision to have Angelus’ soul restored, and so far things seemed to be running smoothly. Giles and Dalton had the resouling ritual mostly prepared, although they were playing their cards very close to their tweed vests, and all that now remained to be done was enlisting Jenny's help in translating the portion that included the original curse into Romanian so it would fit with the spell as they had constructed it.
 
Buffy and Spike had used the time to get to know each other better, and were finding that the connection that they shared ran far deeper than just the shared strain of the situation or the undeniable physical attraction between them. Even so, it was becoming increasingly difficult to honor their promises to themselves and to Joyce and stop themselves before their make-out sessions became much more. So far they had managed to be good, though there were some encounters that had been very close to the line.
 
So yes, things in the past few days had been good, and now it was Buffy's mother, of all people, who decided to throw a wrench into the works. Joyce had announced earlier in the day, quite calmly and in a tone which clearly indicated that arguments would not be tolerated, that they would be having a dinner guest. More specifically, they were expecting a male dinner guest—someone that she wanted Buffy, and consequently Spike, to meet.
 
Buffy was beyond annoyed. Couldn't her mother see that this was not a good time to bring anyone home? With all that was going on right now—with her daughter's vampire boyfriend living in the basement and her crazy unsouled ex and his nutso childe running loose? What was she thinking?
 
But Joyce had been unwilling to listen to any of her daughter's arguments, going so far as to pretend not to hear any words that went against her plans. So now Buffy and Spike were grudgingly setting the table, preparing to play normal family for her mom's new boyfriend Ted; Buffy was just certain that this would go well….not!
 
The others were supposed to join them after dinner; even in her euphoria over having her new man meet her daughter, Joyce still seemed to realize that having them spend the whole evening alone might not be the best idea.
 
As far as Joyce was concerned, the meeting went over beautifully. Ted seemed to take an instant liking to her daughter and after a few confused questions as to the reasons for Spike's presence in the house – which she had forgotten to explain beforehand – he seemed to believe the cover story that Joyce had concocted and even complimented her on her kindness in harboring the poor young man during his search for a new apartment.
 
Had she been more aware of Buffy's mood instead of being wrapped up in her boyfriend's attentions, the older Summers might have had a different opinion of the introduction of her suitor to her daughter. The Slayer had taken an instant dislike to the man her mother brought home, although she couldn’t exactly say why. Buffy was unable to explain her strong feeling of animosity, other than to assume that they came from a sense of jealousy and the feeling that he might take her mom's attention away from her. Deciding that those reasons were selfish, Buffy had tried her best to ignore them and the nagging sensation that something more than jealousy was wrong with this picture.
 
Spike had remained unusually silent throughout the meal, and it seemed like he had tried his best to appear as though everything was comfortable and completely normal. As soon as he and Buffy managed to spend some alone time however, he confided in his girlfriend that he believed that there might something be wrong with the man.
 
Relieved that she might have been right, and especially relieved that she really hadn’t been channeling her inner spoiled brat, Buffy had eagerly latched onto the vampire’s suspicions and explained her own worries. She only had a vague feeling that something was wrong; however, she started really fearing the implications when Spike mentioned that there seemed to be something off about Ted's smell.
 
While she had first feared that being the Slayer might enable her to somehow sense any bad intentions that the new man in her mother's life might be harboring, it now seemed that he might not even be human. Had they inadvertently invited a demon into their house? Could Angelus have sent him? Buffy was terrified by the implications of what Spike seemed to be suggesting.
 
Spike, however, was certain that whatever was off didn’t make the man any sort of demon. He patiently explained that while the man didn't smell right, he did have a heartbeat, which ruled out vampire and a few other major species of demon; also, Spike was absolutely certain that if he was a demon, it was a species that even Spike on all of his travels had never encountered.
 
Unsure what to do about their suspicions; the two blondes decide to talk the matter through with Willow and Giles once they arrived. The fact that Xander would once again be present went mostly ignored, as neither Buffy nor Spike were quite ready to forgive the boy yet. Despite the continuing hostility between the three, however, Willow's begging had made them agree to welcoming him back into their midst—but only on the condition that he remain as far from Spike as possible. The distance was absolutely necessary to keep the vampire from attacking the boy; while Buffy wouldn’t have minded a little bit of bloodshed, she knew that now was not the time.
 
The blonde couple was extremely surprised to return inside and find the Slayer's friends amiably chatting with Ted and Joyce in the living room; this surprise, however, in no way compared to their shock at the hostility they faced once they got the gang alone and voiced their suspicions about the new man.
 
Buffy had believed that at least Giles, as Buffy's Watcher, would put more trust in her “spidey senses” than in some stranger's word. But it wasn’t just her word that Giles should trust; surely the man would be aware enough of a vampire's superior senses to realize that, if Spike claimed something was off about Ted's smell, it should at least be investigated. Instead, the Watcher blatantly ignored the vampire’s warning and just smiled bemusedly at his Slayer before dismissing her entirely.
 
Xander couldn't keep himself from grinning gloatingly at the pair, an act that earned him a sharp kick in the shins from Willow. The redhead seemed to be the only one of the Scoobies to at least listen to Buffy and Spike's worries, though even she clearly thought they were overreacting; she was just far nicer about it than Xander and Giles had been.
 
Frustrated by her friends’ unwillingness to take them seriously, Buffy finally grabbed Spike and dragged him back into what she now deemed “their” basement. They'd just have to figure out a way to make sure Ted was not a threat to her mother on their own.
 
 
The next day at school, Buffy tried once again to convince Willow of the possibility that Ted might not be what he seemed to be while simultaneously ignoring Xander's continued bitching about Spike; just as she was about to throw up her hands and walk away in extreme frustration, Ted himself suddenly appeared behind her.
 
Buffy forced herself to put on a friendly face while listening to his explanation about being there to update some software – as if she was interested in what he was doing? Please. She was pulled out of her distracted mental ramblings by shock, however, when he suggested playing a game of mini-golf “as a family” in the afternoon when she had finished school.
 
"What? No. Didn't you hear mom explain about William's sun allergy? Don't you think it'd be a bit unfair to invite everyone somewhere he can't go?"
 
Noticing that Xander was about to once again lay into her friend about what he saw as her poor choice of boyfriends, Willow hastily declared that she wanted to take the software updates that Ted had brought to Miss Calendar right away. Jumping up, she grabbed Xander by the hand and dragged the unwilling boy away before he could start another fight. On the way inside the school, as Xander struggled against her grip on his hand, she realized that she really needed to have another talk with her oldest friend before his prejudice and jealousy destroyed any chance he had for reconciliation with the Slayer.
 
Once the two teens left, Ted's demeanor changed instantly and he became just as menacing as he had been friendly only moments before.
 
"Listen, young lady—this guy you’ve decided is your boyfriend. He's creepy, he’s way too old for you, and this illness of his? No family should be burdened with someone like that. I don't understand why your mother puts up with him, or why she hasn’t knocked some sense into you, but I can assure you that I won't have him under my roof much longer."
 
Stunned, Buffy just stared at Ted for long moments, amazed that after only just meeting her mother he not only dared to insult Spike but presumed that he had the right to decide who would or would not be welcome in her house.
 
As soon as she found her voice, Buffy spoke up angrily. "How dare you! You don't get to decide who I can see, or who my mom can invite into OUR house. You… you…."
 
Too angry for words, the blonde Slayer finally turned and stomped off, leaving the older man standing alone and fuming in the corridor.
 
Oh, the little bitch thought she could get prissy with him? He'd show her—no one spoke to Ted Buchanan in that way! Least of all a woman!
 
 
Buffy’s fury carried her all the way through the school and directly to the door of the library, determined that she would finally convince her Watcher that they needed to keep an eye on Ted. Unfortunately, her attempts ended with another dismissal as soon as she brought up Ted’s comments about Spike; Giles this time gave her a cold glare rather than a patronizing smile and told her in no uncertain terms that he agreed with Ted on the issue of Spike being allowed to remain under Joyce’s roof. Feeling defeated, Buffy was more than glad to return home; at least there she had one person who not only listened to her worries but actually agreed with her.
 
Sadly, besides attacking the man and forcing him to tell them the truth, the only plan that she and Spike had been able to come up with involved trying to trick Ted into cutting himself; the best they could hope for was a sample of his blood that Spike could taste. The vampire was completely confident that he would be able to taste anything unhuman that was present in the blood. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, a fact of which they were both painfully aware; for once they were going to have to rely on luck and had to hope that he would fall into their trap and injure himself. That was stressful enough, but the taste test wasn’t foolproof, either; while Spike was sure he could identify demon blood, nothing they gained would be of any use if Ted wasn't a demon—if he was an evil human.
 
To the Slayer's great relief, her mother sided with her when she declined the invitation to the afternoon out under the pretense of needing to stay home with Spike. She was more than a bit shocked, though, when she realized that Ted had not only invited her mother and her friends on his little “happily family” outing, but her Watcher, too. The two men seemed unusually chummy for people who had met only the day before, and she was instantly uncomfortable with what seemed to be their budding friendship. She would have been even more worried had she known that the two of them had bonded over their mutual hatred for her vampire; however, realizing that he would still need to be careful around the Englishman, Ted had been careful to keep his low opinion of Buffy to himself.
 
As soon as the others left, the two blondes snuck out and started their own investigation into Ted. Using the sewers, they managed to make their way to his workplace; unfortunately, besides the shocking revelation that he seemed to have been planning to marry her mother in less than two months and the fairly useless fact that he was great at his job, their investigation proved unsuccessful.
 
Buffy wanted to bring up the question of marriage during dinner that night, but Spike stopped her, reminding her that if Ted was indeed a demon using some sort of thrall on the others, any abrupt mention of a question so incriminating made in her mother's presence might endanger Joyce even more. Besides, he reasoned, seeing that Buffy was still on the verge of argument, why should they admit to snooping around until they had been able to find some sort of proof.
 
Buffy finally saw the logic in her vampire's argument and agreed to keep silent; she didn't even try to interfere in the date her mother had with Ted the next day. Her mother didn’t need to know that she and Spike had planned to take a look at Ted's home the next day; if anything, the date helped because they could be certain that he'd be out of the house.
 
While Buffy was relieved that the burglary she and Spike were planning had become much less risky, she was still worried for Joyce's safety. After a fair amount of argument, during which Spike repeatedly pointed out how useless the solution really was, the two blondes agreed that Buffy should talk her watcher into coming over the next day to watch out for Joyce. He seemed to be becoming fast friends with Ted; despite his unwillingness to listen to their suspicions, however, they felt that he would surely be willing to spend the day with the other two adults. If Buffy got desperate, she thought to herself, she could always suggest that he could invite Jenny Calendar along so that the adults could have a day off from the teens.
 
 
Buffy was surprised when Miss Calendar agreed that she should try to find out more about Ted since the man was apparently coming on far too strong, and she was even more surprised when the older woman agreed to help her convince Giles that he should visit Joyce and her boyfriend during the afternoon. The computer teacher even promised to try and get through to the watcher in the hopes of making him understand that using a bit more caution in his approach to the volatile situation couldn't hurt.
 
Thus assured that her mother would be safe for the day, Buffy went home quickly, only to leave once more with Spike through the sewers as soon as the adults had arrived.
 
It didn't take the two blondes long to make their way to the address they had gotten from Ted's colleague, and with Spike's skills in breaking and entering they were soon inside the man’s supposed apartment. The fact that Spike could enter without an invite was telling, and they now knew for certain that they were definitely dealing with something more—or less—than human.
 
Surprisingly it seemed to be more of a workshop than a living space, but that strange observation was soon forgotten when they discovered no less than four marriage licenses bearing Ted's name, the oldest dated 1957. This discovery only supported their suspicions that he was a demon; a human of Ted's age would have still been a child back then.
 
As he looked around for some clue as to what kind of demon Ted might be, Spike's keen hearing enabled him to notice the hollow sounds made as Buffy walked across the room. Interest piqued, the vampire rolled back the carpet that the Slayer had just been walking across; both were intrigued to discover a hidden trapdoor.
 
After the two had made their way down the stairs, Buffy took in the creepy décor while Spike instantly followed the easily recognizable smell of decay to a door at the back of the room. Opening it, he stared in shock at the four more or less decayed corpses hanging like dresses in what appeared to be a simple closet. The bodies themselves wouldn't have disturbed him so much— after all, he had spent a century as a vampire with Drusilla and had seen far more than his share of corpses in all stages of decay. Hell, after Dru, it didn't even seem all that crazy to find them hanging in the closet like dresses. It wasn’t the bodies at all, but the fact that all four women bore a close resemblance to Joyce, that compelled the vampire to slam the door shut and rush the Slayer back towards her house as quickly as possible.
 
As soon as she heard her boyfriend's description of what he had seen in the closet, Buffy took off at Slayer speed. The vampire followed hard on her heels as they tore through the long-since darkened streets of Sunnydale.
 
They both allowed their pace to slow as they approached the house, seeing the lights ablaze and breathing sighs of relief that its occupants still seemed to be inside. However, their relief was to be short-lived; immediately upon entering they discovered that only Giles was present in the living room of an otherwise empty house.
 
"What… what is going on here, Giles? Where is my mom? Where are Ted and Miss Calendar? Didn't you hear me or Miss Calendar tell you that Ted might be dangerous? I asked you to look out for my mom! Where is she, dammit? Giles!"
 
Annoyed that his Slayer had begun to ignore his advice since she had begun her relationship with the despicable vampire currently standing next to her, Giles didn't even bother to show her the respect of standing while he addressed her. Instead, he remained seated and explained calmly that Jenny had found it necessary to leave early so that she could finish her work on the translation with Dalton, while Ted had wanted to show Joyce his apartment. Aware of the ridiculousness of Buffy and Spike's accusations, he had seen no reason to stop them.
 
"God, Giles! How could you?! This guy has the corpses of his four ex-wives stashed away in his basement closet, and they all look like mom. And you let him leave with her after I specifically told you there was something wrong with him?! After I told you that Spike said he doesn't even smell human?! If something happens to my mom, Giles, you are going to find out the VERY hard way just how much I've been holding back during training!"
 
"Leave it, Slayer. We have to go get your mum—you can deal with this arrogant prick later."
 
Spike's urgently-spoken words finally shook the furious Slayer out of her anger at her Watcher's actions, and without another word to the stunned man the two blondes hurried back to Ted's apartment.
 
Refusing this time to waste any of their precious time in attempts at stealth, the couple crashed through the front door hurriedly; upon seeing the open trapdoor, they allowed their fear to move them, throwing caution to the wind and jumping down.
 
The picture that greeted them was sickening, even to the worldly eyes of the vampire. Joyce had been shackled to the floor, and Ted seemed to be draining her blood from her. Screaming in fury, Buffy attacked the man while Spike rushed to Joyce’s side and tried to stop the bleeding.
 
It was funny that knowing and caring for a person made the thought of tasting their blood so unappetizing, Spike thought absently as he carefully set about removing the collection of tiny needles that marred her flesh. He was certainly still drooling at the thought of tasting his Slayer, but for the first time his brain consciously made the distinction between tasting Buffy for the pleasure of the experience and tasting the blood of a person he cared about when the blood had been shed in a way that endangered their life.
 
Having removed all of the needles from Joyce's veins and bound her wounds, Spike started working on the shackles that were presently holding her down, finding them fairly easy to remove with his enhanced.
 
While Spike guarded Joyce and treated her wounds, Buffy fought Ted; at least now she knew that he was most definitely not human, since he seemed to be almost as strong as her. The mystery of what exactly he was was solved when an especially vicious kick from the Slayer sent him careening into the wall, smashing the side of his face into a bookshelf along the way. The impact tore open his cheek; instead of blood and ripped flesh, Buffy saw metal and wires. The guy was a freakin’ robot?!
 
Stunned by her discovery, the blonde Slayer missed her opponent’s charge and ended up flying across the room, landing in a heap next to the vampire protectively crouched over her mother's prone body.
 
"You want me to help you, Slayer?"
 
"Nope, you look after mom; I wanna smash this asshole to pieces all by myself."
 
Nodding his understanding at her need for an outlet for her panic over Joyce's condition, as well as the pain of her Watcher's betrayal, Spike simply watched his Slayer pound the robot into the floor.
 
Once the horrible thing had been completely disabled, Buffy turned, still panting, back to the other two occupants of the room. Her turn yielded a surprise, as she discovered that Spike was no longer crouching protectively over her mother but was instead standing near the stairs, her mother's body cradled carefully in his arms.
 
"We have to go now, luv. Your mom needs to go to the hospital—the git drained quite a bit of her blood, and we can't help her on our own."
 
Shaking herself out of her terror, Buffy quickly decided that this moment would not be the time to break down at the thought of nearly losing her mother. She met Spike’s gaze and nodded slowly to him; slowly and carefully, the two of them headed up the stairs, changing their pace once they reached the street and making their way as fast as possible to the nearby hospital.
 
Once there, they explained that Joyce had been attacked by an obvious psycho who had tried to bleed her dry; while it was funny to see the nurses’ confusion at being unable to detect a bite wound, they were greatly relieved when a doctor took over and ordered an instant transfusion.
 
A few hours later, Joyce was back to consciousness and officially out of danger. Grudgingly accepting that they would have to leave the hospital soon, while the older Summers woman would need to stay at the hospital until the next day, Buffy and Spike wished Joyce a good night and headed back to Revello Drive.
 
Having calmed down a bit, Buffy was again reminded of her earlier anger upon coming face to face with her Watcher. The time spent at the hospital, however, had given her perspective; instead of screaming at the older man like before, she informed him in a dangerously calm voice of the night’s events and also of the fact that she held him personally responsible for nearly getting her mother killed, all due to his stubbornness and arrogance. Shocked at the ice in her tone, Giles could do nothing but obey her request to leave her house, although he was stunned when she followed up the request with an order that he not come near her again unless she specifically asked him to do so.
 
The Slayer was just about to close the door behind him when they heard someone calling out her name. Turning towards the sound, all three were surprised to see Willow rushing in a dead run towards them.
 
"Buffy! Buffy, you have to help… Angelus… he … he has Jenny, I mean Miss Calendar. He's got her…"
 
Shocked silence followed the redhead's panicked exclamation, and it took the three at the door a moment to get their bearings. Ultimately, it was the vampire who asked the first question.
 
"Where, Red? It's nearly sunrise—if we want to have a chance to get her back today, we need to know where they are."
 
"I… I'm sorry… I don't know. He was taking her with him. She did something… spoke in my head. She told me to run, and… and I did. I know that was wrong… I should have stayed but she sounded so sure of herself and … and I panicked. I don't know…"
 
"Shit! There’s no way we can find them today, Slayer. I could probably try to track them by scent, but I'd have to stay on the streets; no chance of that working from inside the sewers. And seeing as how the sun will be up in less than five minutes, I can't exactly walk down the streets right now."
 
Buffy saw that Willow was near collapse from a potent combination of fear and exhaustion and pulled the distraught redhead into her arms, trying to console her.
 
"Ok. If we can't go looking for them now, Willow, you have to tell us exactly what happened. Maybe it'll help us once we can try tracking them again after sunset."
 
"Yes. Ok, I can do that. Yes. See, I couldn't sleep tonight since I felt bad about the way Xander is treating you, and then there was me with the not believing you about Ted, and I just wanted to make it better somehow. So I took a look at the updates Ted gave me at school, and I discovered that they might solve a problem Miss Calendar had with her translation program. You know, the one for the curse? I wanted to show it to her… I thought if I could help you guys get the soul restoration done faster, it'd make up for me being such a bad friend."
 
"Oi, Red! Lemme guess, you went to the school to show her, during the night. Didn't you listen when we told you that no one is to be out alone during the night as long as Angelus is running wild?"
 
"Yes… Yes, I know, Spike. But I was so excited, and I… I just forgot, ok…."
 
"It's ok, Spike, let her finish her story. Nothing happened, so Willow's walking around alone at night shouldn't be our main focus right now."
 
Nodding his agreement with his Slayer, Spike gave the redhead still huddled in Buffy's arms what he hoped was a reassuring smile, silently encouraging her to continue.
 
"Ok, where was I? Oh, yeah. So I got to the school ok, but when I walked into the library Miss Calendar and that vampire, Dalton, they were yelling at each other. I didn't want them to think that I was eavesdropping, but if I left and they saw me they probably would’ve thought exactly that. So I hid behind the counter. I thought I could wait till they had finished, and then I'd pretend to have just walked in."
 
"So you didn't want them to think you were eavesdropping when you weren't and solved the problem by actually doing it. Clever girl, Red."
 
"Spike! I asked you to let Willow finish."
 
"Sorry, luv. Go on, Red, promise I'll be good."
 
"Uh-huh. So I was sitting there behind the counter, and I didn't mean to, but it was impossible not to listen to them. Jenny, I mean Miss Calendar, she was so angry. From what I understood that Dalton guy had just told her that he and Giles were planning to use Spike as the vampire sacrifice for the ritual…"
 
Willow nearly toppled to the ground when the Slayer's arms suddenly left her, and it took the stunned girl a few seconds to realize what had just happened. Once she had stabilized herself, however, the picture outside was very telling. Spike was holding back the furious Slayer, who seemed intent on getting her hands on Giles. The Watcher, for his part, was still sitting morosely on the porch steps where he had sunk down when Willow had first arrived with the news of Jenny's capture.
 
Listening to Buffy screaming at her Watcher for a few seconds, Willow finally realized that she could barely understand a word of what her friend was saying; the fury was making the other girl’s speech a jumbled mess. Seeing that the older man seemed to barely react to the attack, Willow finally turned her confused eyes on the vampire.
 
Seeing the redhead look at him in confusion and mouth “nearly killed my mother?” – the only clear sentence his girl had uttered since losing the battle with her anger – at him, Spike shook his head slightly in response, hoping that she'd understand the “not now” meaning behind it.
 
Concentrating once more on calming his Slayer before she did something she'd regret later, like killing her own Watcher, he finally managed to get through to her by reminding her that she was the one who wanted to hear the full story of what happened to the teacher.
 
Only slightly calmer, but at least now able to stop herself from attacking the man who had not only been responsible for almost getting her mother killed, but who had also been planning to sacrifice her boyfriend for no apparent reason, Buffy turned back to Willow.
 
"Ah, you want me to keep going? Ok, but you two gotta explain what just happened here once I'm finished, deal?” Buffy gave her a quick nod, and Willow continued. “Anyway, so as I said, Miss Calendar was really, really angry. Going on about traitors and such, and then she just left. She said she'd tell Giles where he could stick his plan…"
 
Willow blushed as she recalled what else the computer teacher had been yelling while leaving the library. Who knew such words even existed?
 
“Oh, and she said that she'd make sure she told Buffy what was really going on. I… I went after her when she left. I mean, Giles would never do that, would he? I wanted to ask her, but she told me to go home when I caught up with her. And when I asked her again, she told me that ‘Arrogance can turn men into monsters too.’ That's exactly what she said."
 
The confusion on the redhead’s face stated clearly that she still didn't understand Jenny’s statement, but then she also didn't know the whole story. Buffy understood exactly what the gypsy had been referring to, and she really hoped that the watcher huddled on her stairs would understand it, too.
 
Shaking the thought off for the moment, Buffy nodded her understanding and Willow, happy that at least one person seemed to know what was going on, continued.
 
"I left, but I heard a scream and so I went back to check. And there was Angelus—he was holding her around the neck. He didn't see me, but she must have, because suddenly there was her voice in my head telling me to run. And the rest I already told you."
 
"Ok, Will. We understand. I think it'd be best if you came in now and we can let Spike make us some tea; he's really good at that. And then in a little while, when you’re calmer, we can fill you in on what else happened today, and we can try to come up with a plan to rescue Miss Calendar."
 
Buffy shook her head sadly at Willow when she saw the other girl staring at Giles, who hadn’t so much as moved at Buffy’s announcement of both tea and planning.
 
"No, Wills. He's not welcome here anymore. Come in, and I'll explain."
 
A few seconds later, the door closed behind the three and Giles was left on the porch, to face the dawn of a new day alone.

End of the Bloody Line
Chapter 9
by MadRog

*****

Giles left, heading for the comfort of his library and the sympathetic ear of Dalton, whom he had no doubt would support his decision and opinions.

Inside the house on Revello Drive, the meeting was about to begin.

Holding onto his hand tightly, Buffy pulled Spike up short as he entered the living room. “We need to get Jenny away from Angelus fast…”

Spike tried to be the voice of reason—a task not that hard to achieve since he didn’t even know this Jenny. All he knew was that Buffy cared for her, and that was enough. “But, luv, we can’t go off half-cocked. We need to know what we are getting into and what everybody can do to help.”

Wringing her hands, Willow spoke up. “But…but Angelus could kill her.”

“No, that would be the last thing the poncy git will do.” Spike’s voice was comfortingly confident. “That would be way too nice on the lass. No, he’ll drag out the torture of her for his jollies and to hurt you white hats.”

Frustrated, Buffy turned and stormed into the living room. “So, what?” Her voice rose. “We just sit back and…”

Catching her up, Spike rubbed up his cool hands up and down her arms. “No, pet. We will act, but I’m not rushing in on his ground and comfort zone an’ risking your life.” Buffy was caught in his smile. “‘Sides, the only person who was supposed to kill you is me, and now I just want to keep you safe.”

As she watched Buffy rest her forehead against Spike’s chest, Willow spoke up. “But we have to do something…”

After placing a kiss on Buffy’s golden hair, Spike looked over Buffy’s head at Willow. “We will. Red?” Willow jumped at the sudden shift of focus onto her. “You dabble in magic, right?

Willow was back to wringing her hands. “Yes, I try, but I should warn you that sometimes my spells go a little wonky.”

Spike looked around the house. “Has Angelus been invited into this house before?”

Buffy nodded her head while Willow’s eyes widened as the implication clicked into place. Glad to have something to contribute, Willow spoke up. “I’m already on it. One uninvited spell coming up.”

“Red, that needs to be done before sundown.” Even though his voice sounded hard with authority, Spike gave her an encouraging smile. Then he looked down at Buffy. “I’m surprised that Angelus hasn’t taken advantage of the invite so far.”

Willow was bouncing on the balls of her feet with anticipation of helping out the cause. “That’s the plan. You can count on me.” Before anyone else could utter another word, Willow was out the front door.

Buffy brushed fictitious lint off of Spike’s shirt. “So, what do we do now?”

Spike ran his hand down Buffy’s hair before he answered. “Rest. Tonight might get…wild.”

As Buffy became lost in her thought that that was a whopper of an over exaggeration, Spike reached for Buffy’s hand and drew her down into what had become their basement.

He opened his arms and she stepped into what was fast becoming her home. She had her arms bent in front of him and nestled her face into the crook of his neck. Spike could feel her tears soaking his shirt.

Raising his shoulder and gently nudging her, Spike prodded. “Come on, luv. Talk to me. You’re breaking my heart.”

“I’m just so scared for Jenny-- for all of us. So much has happened in such a short amount of time.” Buffy gave the smallest of laughs and teased, “Besides, you’re heart is dead.” She kissed his neck to take the sting out of her words, make it the joke that it was.

Placing a finger under her chin, Spike raised her face so that she would look at him. He brushed a thumb across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “Buffy, my heart will always beat for you.”

Their kiss was gentle but deeply felt. Their tongues met, not just exploring but also comforting. “Oh…God…that was just…” Putting her hands on his shoulders, she arched up on the balls of her feet and literally smashed her lips on his. It wasn’t the world’s most graceful, or beautiful of kisses, but there couldn’t have been more heart poured into it. In fact, Buffy thought that Spike could hear the pounding. The kiss was chaste but held great feeling for both of them.

Buffy spoke the first thing that came to mind. “I need to be with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, luv.” Spike held her tighter to add power behind his words.

Moving back a step so she could look at him, Buffy was more specific. “I need a good cuddling.”

With a smile, Spike lay down on the cot then held his arms up for her. Each fell asleep quickly, but their sleep was fitful. Regardless, the night was made easier because each knew the other was there.

*****

At dusk, Spike found Willow in the kitchen. He thought back over the last twenty minutes as he carefully closed the basement door behind him. His body instinctively had known when the sun was setting and it woke the vampire out of his slumber. Unable to pull himself away quite yet, Spike had leaned on his elbow and watched the Slayer sleep. Buffy. Her name was Buffy, and she was his. He itched to touch her face, even something so little as stroke the eyelashes resting on her cheeks. She was beauty itself, and he thanked the Powers That Be for this opportunity to know her. Yes, he had loved Dru, but this was vastly different. His very being called out for this slip of a girl.

And somehow he would have to keep her alive. He had no doubt that Angelus would be gunning for her and getting away from that bastard was next to impossible. But he would find a way so this enchantress could stay by his side, was his thought as he got out of the cot without waking her.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Willow spun around, startled. “Oh…hi, Spike.”

Spike looked to see what she was doing. “Red, looks like you are packing away your magic supplies. That mean you are done with the spell?”

“Yep. This is now a no Angelus zone. Oh, and I guess that means Drusilla, also.” Willow thought for a moment. “Does than mean you, too?”

“No, Red, much to the Whelp’s and Watcher’s disappointment. Since I was in the house when the spell was done, I can still come and go.” Spike walked over and retrieved some blood from the refrigerator. After pouring it into a mug, he heated it up in the microwave.

Willow looked back at the basement door. “Where’s Buffy?”

“Still sleeping, and I hope she does for awhile longer.” He walked over and washed out his mug. “But I do need a favor, Red?”

“Uh…sure.” Willow didn’t know what to expect.

Spike shrugged into his duster, obviously preparing to leave. “When Buffy does get up, tell her all is right as rain. I just had a bit of business to take care of and tell her to meet me at the library at 8:00. You, too. We need to talk about a spell to use on Angelus and his flighty soul. Got all that, sweets?”

He didn’t wait for Willow’s answer, just assumed obedience. Willow was left nodding at his leather clad back.

*****

Spike enjoyed slamming the library door back against the wall as he came sauntering into Giles’ domain. He found the Watcher pouring over a book with Dalton. The pair jumped at the sudden intrusion. “Ah, a little tete-a-tete between traitors.”

“Spike.” Giles felt more than just a little bit of fear. “Er…where’s Buffy?”

“Safe from you for the time being. I thought we needed one of those manly talks that we Brits try to avoid.” He turned his sights on the vampire. “Dalton, Dalton, Dalton. First you were in the master’s pocket, then the anointed brat, next me, and now you are bandying about with a watcher. What next? Santa?”

Dalton’s eyes were wide behind his glasses. “No, master. I am still your servant. I am just…” He never got to finish because Spike threw him into the library’s cage and locked it.

“Shut your gob. My business is with the Watcher first.” He slowly walked back until he was standing only a few feet from Giles. Giles was taller than the blonde vampire, but there was no doubt who held the power. “So this is what a Watcher that betrays his slayer looks like. Not only that, you conspired with a vampire to betray her.”

Giles took a couple of steps back. “But you are a vampire and she is certainly getting way too close to you.”

Spike poked Giles in the chest in time with his words. “And a lowly vampire isn’t good enough for your Slayer, eh?”

“No, certainly not.” As he quickly stepped back several steps, Giles was feeling a little more balanced again.

“Who are you to talk, Ripper? With your background in black magic, you dare to touch a woman like Jenny Calendar--who I have heard nothing but good things about? Were you good enough for the lass? Did she mind what you were?” Spike tilted his head. “Or did you even tell her? At least Buffy knows exactly who and what I am.”

“Precisely. You are a killer and more specifically, a killer that prides himself in killing slayers. Pray tell how is she safe from you?”

“Because I gave my word, and I stand by it.” Spike turned to take a couple of steps away before turning back. “Besides, you should be thanking me. Not only have I given up trying to kill her, but I will give my unlife to keep her alive. I would think you would want someone supernatural watching her back. I plan on seeing that she is the longest lived Slayer – ever.”

Giles adjusted his eye glasses, unnerved by the vampire’s words of devotion. “But how do I know you are telling the truth? It has been my experience that vampires are not to be trusted.”

“Which would you rather do? Be Buffy’s watcher and be of some help, or let your distrust of her boyfriend come between the two of you?” He walked up close, within a foot of Giles, and stared into his eyes. “I only want what is best for the Slayer. Just look me in the eye and see the truth.”

Brown eyes gazed into blue and got lost there. He could see the killer that Spike was, but truth also shined back at him. That much was clear. Giles stepped back, lowered his head and nodded his agreement. If nothing else, he needed time to think.

Spike returned the Watcher’s nod, but he wasn’t done yet. “But make no mistake, Watcher. If I decide that I need to-- if you try to come between me and Buffy and/or put Buffy in danger, I will rip your eyes from their sockets. You’ll live but you’ll never see another one of your precious books again.”

Spike turned, his attention now on the vampire that was currently in the cage. He opened the metal door, stood in the doorway, and stared until Dalton was actually squirming. Then Spike suddenly struck. Pulling a metal spike from his coat pocket, he picked the short vampire up and raised him off the ground with the strength of one arm. “I made a little detour on the way here to pick up some of my name sakes.” The master vampire proceeded to stake Dalton into the wall, leaving him spread eagle with a spike in each hand and each foot. The young vampire howled in pain. Giles had to look away from the spectacle and blessed the Powers That Be that Spike hadn’t done the same to him.

As he started to quiet down some and bear the pain, Dalton was able to think again-- and he hadn’t known what to expect. Spike’s moods were mercurial, and he had given no indication of how he was going to react to Dalton’s betrayal until that last moment. Oh, Dalton was still furious with whom he had hoped would be his lover, the traitor of their kind had chosen the whore slayer over him. But even through the veil of pain, Dalton still looked at Spike in love. This discipline had just been necessary.

Spike was pleased with his handiwork, and now he became deceptively calm. He needed to know the vampire’s motives. Was he working for Angelus? Could he possibly have the nerve to work for himself? Was he just flying by his own seat of his pants, trying to save himself? Was he mistakenly and foolishly going against him? “So Dalton, finally got some stones, did you?”

Dalton’s eyes implored the irate vampire for mercy. “Master Spike, I didn’t know that the Watcher was trying to kill you. I would never…”

Giles interjected, “No, it wasn’t just me…”

Spike whipped around and pointed his finger at the watcher. His eyes conveyed his silent command for Giles to shut up. Once Spike was satisfied with Giles compliance, the master turned back to the vampire now shaking in fear. “You would never what?”

Dalton would have wrung his hands if he could. “I would never even think about injuring you in any way.” Dalton prayed that his lies would get him through this tortured but alive.

In a second Spike back handed Dalton, leaving his lip bleeding. “You betrayed me, you fucking pillock. You dared to conspired with that scum,” Spike pointed again at Giles, “to kill me.”

Dalton shook his head so fast that it was almost comical. “Master Spike, I never intended to sacrifice you. That was just what I told the Watcher. I just wanted you away from the Slayer’s clutches.”

Spike could smell some deception in Dalton’s words coming off of him in waves, but he still needed to know Dalton’s motive and who he was now serving. If it was Angelus, they could use that to their benefit. “Let’s start back with Angelus.”

Not understanding what Spike wanted to know, Dalton started babbling. “Yes, I’m responsible for Angelus. I changed the spell so that Angel was released back into this world and would claim Drusilla as his own. I just hadn’t expected him to lose his soul.” He could see a tick in Spike’s jaw. “I did it for you,” Dalton pleaded. “Drusilla wasn’t good enough for you, either.”

“Drusilla was good enough for anyone. You just made me lose her.” The back hand Spike delivered this time snapped Dalton’s head to the side and opened a cut on the young vampire’s cheek.

“No, she went to Angelus as soon as he was back. She wasn’t a fit consort for you. And the Slayer isn’t fit to lick your boots.” He took another back hand, but Spike still had to understand that all was done for him. “You were meant for a better kind of love.”

Spike got up into Dalton’s face. “The Slayer licks boots? How dare you say such rubbish.”

This was Dalton’s chance to show Spike that love between men was infinitely superior. He quickly leaned forward and kissed his love. Their lips met and Dalton put his everything into it. When Spike’s mouth and eyes opened in shock, Dalton’s tongue darted out and gained entrance into Spike’s mouth. Just as tongue touched tongue, Spike broke away.

Spike shot back so fast that he looked like he had just touched fire. Dalton had completely caught him unawares. He just stood still, frozen to the spot.

Dalton kept talking. “You and me. We are the same. We have intellect beyond our demon. The books that you read, I pored over in hopes of discussing them with you someday. The poems you wrote are beautiful. I have memorized all of them. Master Spike, two men together far surpasses any woman. Give me a chance. You’ll see. I can please you better than a lowly woman.”

As disgusted as he was with the young vampire, one part of what Dalton said really caught Spike’s attention. “How did you know about my poems?”

“I was thinking of you, only you, when I left the factory after Angelus took over.” Dalton tried his best at this opportunity. “I smuggled out your journal while the animal was killing the minions.”

Giles listened to all that was said, soaking up the information. He was starting to suspect there was more to Spike, William the Bloody, than what he saw on the surface. Giles’s first instinct had been to not give any credence to the idea that Spike felt something for Buffy. But after Spike had lined him out, he decided to wait to pass judgment on the whole issue of a vampire looking out for a slayer. But this now. This was different. A vampire that was known for being one of the fiercest of his kind in history read novels. A vampire that wrote poems, and a vampire that seemed to care for his mortal enemy. Amazing. In the last few days, all had changed. Angel had been the good guy, and Spike public enemy number one. Now there was a one hundred eighty degrees swap. And to be honest, Giles had to look at himself. He had let himself be manipulated by Dalton all for some perverted unrequited love and vengeance. Good lord, he needed time to think and a stiff drink.

Spike felt desperation over his poems being read by Dalton but fought hard to not show it. “Where is the journal?”

Dalton nodded to his left. “It is in my coat pocket.”

Digging around, Spike pulled out a medium sized book and pocketed it into his own coat. He instantly felt relieved. Then he heard the doors of the library open and looked to see Buffy and Willow walk in.

Buffy took in the scene quickly. Giles looked disheveled and somewhat frightened. Then she looked at Spike as he turned to look at her. She could see the fury in his face, and the look drew her to him. He was standing in front of the cage, and she understood his fury when she spied Dalton hanging from stakes in the wall. “Spike?”

Unsure of how Buffy was going to take the torture, Spike tried to plow through, but in actuality, he worried that she would be revolted by what he had done. “Had to practice a little; reminding the ponce here of how I got my name.” Tentatively, he snaked his arm around Buffy’s waist, and immediately felt better when she leaned into his side. He was VERY thankful that she hadn’t come in earlier and seen the kiss. “Your watcher and I had a little chat, also.”

“So what do you intend to do with the…?” Buffy hurt just looking at Dalton, but she felt no sympathy.

Spike pulled Buffy’s stake from her waist band. “I have no use for traitors.” Dalton’s eyes bugged out as the knowledge that he was at the end of the line sunk in. Spike threw the stake and it hit home, causing dust to shower down. Without giving it a second glance, Spike leaned down and kissed Buffy on the lips. “Hi, pet. Have a good sleep?”

“No,” her lower lip jutted out. “I woke up alone.”

“Sorry, luv. I had a few things to do.” He leaned down and nibbled her pouting lip until she was smiling. Spike looked up at Willow. “Red, where is the whelp?”

“He’s at his house. We can get him on the way.” Again, she is in hospital.

“Good. Glad someone glad someone will be there with you even if it is the whelp. Ready to get down to some more hocus pocus?”


*****

The slayer. That was Angelus’ target. He didn’t know how, but he led Drusilla straight to the slayer’s home. They crept around the house and watched the windows carefully. He could see the man, the girl and the boy from the night of the burning church.

Neither were problems. The problem was how he felt around this house. He was sure that he had never been here, but a little voice inside of his head told him that he had, and that he had looked inside often. When Angelus and Drusilla-- dancing to her a tune only she heard--rounded the house to the back yard, he gravitated to a tree beside the house. He was drawn by his own scent. It was all over the tree. How could that be? Puzzled but following his personal signature, he climbed the tree, and it led him to a window. When he looked through the glass, he saw the room of someone young. Somehow he just knew that it was the Slayer’s room. He had spent time in a tree, looking in on the Slayer? No fucking way. But he reached out and placed his hand on the window and was bomb barded with emotions. Wanting, caring, concern, protectiveness, and most of all, love. He drew back as if he were burned.

“Daddy?”

Angelus looked down to see that Drusilla had stopped dancing and was now swaying with her hands not touching but poised over her ears. Angelus dropped down to the ground and walked over to her, thankful for this distraction. “What is it, babe?”

Drusilla continued to sway. “It’s the puppies.”

“Dru, it’s the stars that talk to you.” Angelus began to walk back towards the house. Drusilla was even more insane than usual.

Drusilla grasped his arm as he passed. “Yes, the stars are shining down on all the little puppies. Whoof, whoof. Daddy, they want to help us set the table.” She rose up on the balls of her feet and whispered into Angelus’s ear. As she talked, his evil smile began to grow.

*****
After Willow and Giles gathered up what books they thought they would need, Spike and Buffy escorted them to Revello Drive. Since the house had been secured to keep any vampire other than Spike out, it was decided that everyone would stay there for the time being. It would become command central instead of the school library, which was public and fair game to vampires.

Willow was first up the steps to the front porch and she screamed, turned around and threw up in the bushes. The other three rushed up the steps.

“Mother of God.” Giles placed his handkerchief over his mouth to keep from following suit.

Spike and Buffy seethed. Spike read the horror out loud. “Dinner.”

“Those are…were… dogs.” Tears in her eyes, Buffy could hardly comprehend the carnage. “Angelus wrote ‘dinner’ out in the mutilated bodies of dogs.”

“Just letting you know that this house contains dinner. The sick bastard.” Spike wiped a hand over his face. “So it has begun. This is just a taste of what is to come, pet. Let’s get these two into the house in case Angelus or some of his minions are hanging about, and then we can clean up.”

*****

After the clean up, Buffy and Spike were off on a recognizance mission. As they got closer to the warehouse, the more fledglings they encountered. It was obvious that Angelus had been making more minions. The slayer and her vampire made a trail of dust all the way to a window that looked down on the main room of the warehouse.

They looked in the window and spied Jenny hung from the rafters of the warehouse. Her clothes were in tatters. Both Angelus and Drusilla were there.

Spike pointed out the other features of the room: the doors, windows, and stairs. Last, he pointed out the way to Angelus and Drusilla’s bedroom.

As Angelus began to move, their eyes were drawn back to Jenny and the two vampires. Spike sensed Buffy’s revulsion with the scene. When he wrapped an arm around her, he could feel her shaking.

Using a leather whip, Angelus was taking his time striking Jenny on the legs, stomach, and breasts-- leaving thin cuts on her skin. He would pause between every few whips to let Drusilla lick the dripping blood. Then they would kiss, smearing the blood on their faces. Their laughter floated up to the window Buffy and Spike was spying the scene.

Buffy was horrified when Angelus let his demon come forward, and he sank his fangs into Jenny’s neck. In fact, Spike had to restrain her from charging in there to save the gypsy. But Spike gave her a squeeze, and pointed out all of the minions in the shadows of the room, watching the show. Buffy reluctantly nodded her head in understanding.

Then came the last straw. After drinking from Jenny-- not enough to kill her-- Angelus turned to Drusilla and initiated a deep kiss, both with their fangs extended, nipping at the other. Buffy and Spike watched as Angelus drew up Dru’s skirt-- displaying for all to see that the vampiress did not wear any underwear-- before he grasped her sex. Drusilla threw back her head in ecstasy when Angelus penetrated her with his fingers. The vampire picked her up using his hand in her sex and his arm around her waist and carried her in the direction that Spike had pointed out to be their bedroom.

Tears streaked down both Spike’s and Buffy’s faces, and she gratefully turned into his open arms. After a few moments of trying to calm and control the tears, Spike pulled back and tilted her face up to his. He placed a kiss on her soft, welcoming lips. “Tonight, luv, we’ve said our goodbyes.”

Buffy nodded and gave him a watery smile. “Now, together, we only look forward.”

*****


BloodshedVerse Round Robin Fiction

Chapter 10 by PassionFish :: “Something Wicked This Way Comes”


It was dark.

It was black. Bleak.

The world was shifting, and the two powerful beings that patrolled the cemeteries of Sunnydale could feel it. And were content in the knowledge that it was them who was its cause.

The minions had poured out of the lair in quick succession, high on the gory display their masters had put on for them, and eager to revel in their own violence this night.

This was one night the monsters should have stayed at home.

They had no weapons. No toys with which to play, to taunt, to drag out the pain of those who had stood by and watched their friend cry out…who had watched their final hopes disintegrate so carelessly.

But weapons were not needed.

Toys were for children.

Revenge was not.

For these two other worldly creatures had strengths within them beyond the comprehension of these mere demons they found themselves presented with.

They worked in tandem. It was as if they had trained together for years. Their movements were perfect; flawless.

Their kill – beautiful.

One by one the others fell. Disintegrated into dust before blue and hazel eyes.

And as they did so a further piece of respite fell into place within a Slayer’s and Vampire’s heart.

---

Her cries rocked the walls, the room was in tatters. His mouth devoured hers, his careless fangs tearing what was left of her flesh.

Blood poured between them.

Blood bound them to their fate.

In a single move Angelus entered her.

---

Buffy felt like what she had seen earlier than night had torn the last semblance of her childhood away from her. Finally her eyes were wide open and she could finally appreciate the view. Finally she could accept who she was.

No longer a girl.

Not just a woman.

The Slayer.

A small growl tore from her throat as she reached forward spinning the head of minion #7 clean off his shoulders and watched him turn to dust before her eyes.

Where once there had been a girl with super powers, now stood a warrior.

---

Angelus, Angel…there was no use in distinguishing them. They were not separate people. And no one knew this better than Drusilla herself. It was this that had been his downfall after all. The spell that had woven between them had called to more than the past, more than the ether…it had called to something deep within her lover.

He’d wanted to turn. To switch. To be free.

Release. It was all that had been on his mind.

And in the end, her Sire had forced his way to the front in that deliciously violent way of his. Forced his way out.

Forced his way home.

Home to her.

She knew this. Dru, she was smart. The pixies, they may not talk to her anymore, but Miss Edith was her constant confident and had never led her astray before. She had been told that Daddy was coming.

Pity Miss Edith had left out just who Daddy was coming back for.

She watched in seductive awe as her precious Daddy rose above her, his hips slamming into her own.

The vampiress smiled, her state euphoric, even as her pelvis cracked.

---

Feet, fists, fangs.

This was all they had,

All they needed.

They had each other.

And together, they were perfect.

The perfect warriors.

The perfect fighters.

The perfect match.

---

Angelus growled, long and deep within his throat, his eyes flashing brilliantly dull yellows and oranges.

His thrusts increased in tempo, his release drawing ever closer.

He never realised from what.

---

Eight, nine, ten… all, they fell.

The earth was covered in dust, past sins finally accounted for as the air thickened with their screams. The moon had come out in full view to play for the second time this month. It was as if Mother Nature herself was blessing this exchange as she lit the warriors’ way to victory.

There was a pause. The final particle of ash hit the soft earth below their feet. The battle was over. Beneath them lay the armies of their opposition.

Destroyed, destructed, decimated.

There was a pause.

A deep breath took.

And then they were in each other’s arms, mouths clashing hungrily as impatient hands tore at shreds of black and red clothing. They had thought the battle was over, but here they were engaging in another kind of combat.

A much more pleasurable kind.

Spike’s demon was out to play. He couldn’t shake it off. And she didn’t seem to mind. But for a moment it – the lack of control – worried him, but then her tongue was in his mouth and he was lost to the sensation of her hot hands trailing over his body.

A growl from her partner shook Buffy’s very being and she keened softly at the loss of his ravenous lips as they left hers to traverse the youthful, golden skin his violent fingers had uncovered.

Above them, the heavens crackled and opened, sending sheets of icy rain down on the two warriors. But neither noticed, nor allowed the interruption to stop them from their one goal, which was suddenly all the more essential. All the more imperative.

As Spike’s mouth found her oh so sensitive nipples Buffy cried out, clasping his head to her chest and forcing him down harder on the tender nub. His fangs cut into her skin, and her blood ran thickly into his mouth. His reaction was immediate and violent as with a roar he latched on to the wound, seductively sucking at this wondrous gift.

Her now naked body arched in to his, and she groaned at the feel of his hard cock against her stomach.

The sensations were building up inside of her; a funny warmth that seemed to start from deep within her womb. She writhed against him, trying to remove herself from this exquisite pain, but at the same time unwilling to leave it.

Suddenly it wasn’t enough. She felt cold, empty, alone.

Buffy didn’t know what it was she wanted, or what it was she needed to do to get it. But her body did. It was as if something deep and primal within her was calling out for it–no-demanding it.

As if they had a mind of their own her legs lifted and wrapped themselves around his waist. Her inner juices ran freely down her thighs, against his stomach and on to his thick, hard cock which twitched hungrily in response.

With a twist of her hips and a mind no longer her own, Buffy took him into her. The Vampire roared at the feel of her wet heat engulfing him and as if against his control his head jerked up, and his fangs sank deep into her throat. He growled. He growled again. And again.

These were possessive growls. These were proprietary growls.

More importantly, these were claiming growls.

“MINE!”

In time with his roar of ownership the earth shifted once again, and the heavens sent down a lightening bolt, striking the two supernatural beings.

Together, they fell: their bodies still entwined, their hips still grinding, his fangs still possessively in her throat…their release yet to be found.

---

Drusilla screamed.

But this time it was not a pleasant scream.

Angelus flew from her body, forced away by some as yet unknown supernatural influence. He crashed into the dresser at the other end of the room, his bulky landing demolishing the wood and sending splinters everywhere.

Another scream from Dru had him raising his head, and his eyes bugged in shock at the sight before him.

Still spread out on the bed lay Drusilla, her arms out stretched, her legs together…

….her chest ripped open.

Blood for blood.

The time had come.

---

Buffy screamed.

And Spike roared in unison as finally their mating brought them release, and together they leapt over the edge and fell into the abyss.

The sky crackled, and lightening raged above. Then suddenly, all was quiet.

And the two warriors opened their sharp amber eyes, and twin growls filled the silence of the graveyard.

Yes, the battle was over.

But the war was yet to come.

 tbc..

Chapter 11
by Megan/Peta

*BSV note* Thank you to Megan for this chapter! The author who was supposed to write Chapter 11 suddenly disappeared and Megan had the stress and agony of following up on something that she wasn't quite prepared for. Megan, my apologies and THANK YOU!!!

He wore her blood on his face in gory fashion—not for the first time, nor for the second. But this time was definitely the last. As she lay soaking into his sheets, giving her last over to an agonising moan, he watched. Held still against the wall by a multitude of force—his will and fear, and some strange barrier that kept him from pouncing back on her and finishing what he had been thrown away from. Finishing despite the horrific cavity that was left of her chest. And even as he didn’t think of her, thought of only what he had been deprived, her body drifted to dust and she was no more. Only then did he find his eyes begin to hurt, begin to sweep the room for some explanation for this severe change in his fortune.

He felt the wrench of her reunion with her soul, felt in the air the wicked sense of power and good as she became one with what he had taken from her so long ago. He’d stolen viciously from her, swapped her righteousness, her goodness for a mask with a demon’s morals, dragging her down to wallow at his level of corruption.

But in the muffled scream at his loss, his memory of her faded—rejected what he knew and what he’d known and what he could forever know again. Even as he forced his amber eyes from the doorway out of this room that was dusty with the remnants of his childe’s ash he was striding towards it, barging through the now useless barrier that had held him against the wall.

His heavy form found its stride in the outer room, the minimal number of minions standing frightened against the wall away from their prisoner, away from their Master as he paced in a building fury. Seemingly safe from his rage, it was a shock when he pounced with an ear-shattering roar, tore flesh until a neck twisted and more ash fell around him. It was like a nightmare, an unreality that he was contributing to because his rage felt misguided and lacking in intelligence.

She was so weak, hanging limply and near to fully giving in as she braced against his wall.

“Snap to it, bitch. You’ve got some shoes to fill.”

Resignation dulled the blackness shining at him in hate, but feeling a connection to the spiritual, she'd made the leap. Something had struck with force in this part of the world, shrouded the Hellmouth with equal lashings of approval and punishment—and now it was her turn to pay the due.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She was curled up into something that had never before been an option. Cool chest against her cheek, cool arms around her back, holding her as she shook in reaction and fear at her sudden change. In her puzzlement she recalled something—a brightening flash of light that fused every element. Heart, mind, body, earth, heaven and hell. She was now one with it all and her glowing eyes shed amber over the shiny flesh of the man beneath her, proving the fact that she was altered and something new.

“There is nothing to fear, Slayer.”

Spike’s head shot up, his body shifting under Buffy’s in such a way that they both became exposed, Spike flinching even as he grabbed at his duster for cover.

“Dru,” he breathed, overcome by the angelic glow she emitted as she took their presence in, took in her smile of obvious delight that this had been her release from hell and damnation. That this had been what her William had been for.

Buffy wove her arms around his neck, dragging her naked body against his as she both emphasised her claim and battled her fear and jealousy. This interloper was so shiny, so pretty, and so obviously no longer a vampire. The shock of the night, the confusion of who she was and what she’d done was too much, and she couldn’t keep secret from her new lover that her pain was causing her body to revolt in tremours.

“What happened, Dru?”

Even without looking Buffy could somehow scent the fall of his tears, could feel the clog of his throat as it squeezed her own tight. It mustered up her own reaction and as her tears fell she buried her face against his shoulder, gripping his biceps in a frantic need to keep him close, to not let him tear after the other and leave her alone and naked in the grass of the cemetery. Buffy could feel the emotional moans that bayed from her belly up to trip off her tongue as it burst from her lips. She rocked against him, his arms tightening around her even as his eyes held the vision before him.

“Do not cry, dear. I know that all this is frightening to you, but if you will be still I can explain it all.”

Spike watched his ex-love suspiciously, convinced that it was his own heart thumping a ragged rhythm in his chest even though it couldn’t ever be. As Buffy’s tears had turned to sobs, the tempo increased within his own chest and now that she was settling, moving closer to accepting a revelation, the thuds were slowing and relaxing until once again he felt them no more.

“What am I? What are we?” the Slayer asked into his skin, never once lifting her watery green eyes to seek answers from the heavenly presence at their side.

“You are one. You are balance,” she answered, an innocent and purely happy smile curving the plumpness of her lips.

Spike rubbed his hands absently over Buffy’s body, despite the receding shakes, and watched his maker carefully.

There was no doubt that she had passed over; this vision of her held the glory of who she was, of who he’d often wondered she could be without the history of Angelus and the many years of bloodshed. He’d been rejected by her for the path of good. He could barely believe it.

“I didn’t know what my place would be, William. You helped to bring me back. Everything about your being with the Slayer is right for you. Is right for her. Is even more right for the world. One of the dark, one of the light, you have brought balance to the world that Angelus too easily took away.”

Buffy didn’t want to raise her eyes, didn’t want her face to be seen and so stayed buried and hiding, waiting for the moment Spike would jump to his feet, run and leave her with the feral nature that had burst upon her face.

“It has almost faded, Buffy.”

The confident reassurance left her sagging in relief, her breathing ragged and gasping as she accepted she was not evil. Knowing now that the change was short lived. She was still herself, but now something more. A part of something huge and much wider than just herself.

She felt the final pull back into place, her pretty face once again dominant in her outward mask and she raised a face that was ravaged with uncertainty and tears. Her skin prickled as she was able to focus more on their predicament, feeling Spike against her and wondering at his warmth. Wondering at the almost primitive nature they had succumbed to bring them to this point. This joining. Her eyes shot wide as she felt the wet slide of his cum as it slipped down the inside of her thigh and she shuffled away from him a little, suddenly finding their show a little awkward in the eyes of this now being of good who watched them.

“Why are you here?” asked Buffy, her voice all a mixture of growly rough and soft disappointment.

“Because Daddy’s back and he’s making something new. He was never mine,” she added sadly, long brown hair falling over her face as even now, with memories restored and heart and soul renewed, she grieved for the loss of the one who had made her for so long through history.

“You are too late, William. It was always to be that I would be released and the gypsy would be his protégé. You must be ready. Must prepare and believe in yourselves, in who you are. In what you are together.”

Buffy pushed herself to sitting, the duster clutched to her breast for protection and decency.

“And what are we?” Her voice was shaky, fearful of what new burden was about to become hers, what new truths were about to knock her world off its axis.

“Everything,” she was told from behind a warm and confident smile before the newly made power of light glowed and hummed, then receded into the night.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Her body was slack as her legs flared awkwardly while being dragged from the wall and through the room, banging hard on whatever obstacle was in the way, mini bruises prettying her skin alongside the darker ones that had been compounded with localised beatings of the past day. She was irrevocably marked; fangs and scratches, whips and chain marks a criss-cross on her skin that told the tale of ownership, the news of her life and her approaching death.

Her eyes were wide, wet and fixed as she stared at the ceiling, her back being pressed hard into the bloodied sheets below her, her blood mingling with that of the one now gone—the one who left behind her Sire and her ashes to soak into the back of the newly initiated.

There was no point in struggling, nowhere to run and no way of making it to the door without a twisted neck, so Jenny Calendar said her goodbyes to the empty night, said her prayers to a forgiving God, and waited for what she knew to be her fate.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“I-it felt a little like it wasn’t me in control. I mean, I know it was us, but it wasn’t. I want it to be us.”

His heart clenched painfully at the tears that were still on her face, the sadness mixed with euphoria in her shining jade eyes. Spike lifted his hand and ran it through the hair that had fallen over her face, brushing it free so she could see how genuine he was about being okay with what had happened.

“You heard Dru, pet. Was inevitable. Doesn’t mean we can’t reestablish our bond on our own terms, yeah?” He smiled encouragingly and sighed in relief when Buffy nodded, happiness at last the dominant emotion as she tilted her lips up for a kiss. And she knew everything behind the pressure and his tongue and teeth that nibbled her lips. She knew her own moan as she succumbed to the power of being his mate, of being one with him.

Of being Chosen to join with this creature.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He held a clawed hand around her throat, his other holding one leg bent and high on the bed, blocking her at the knee as his cock tore into her; no lubricant, no passion, nothing but a cruel fuck before he drained her life away. His smile glittered like an animal, his mouth frothing with the pressure of pounding into her hard, not quite as hard as his lovely Dru, but hard enough to crack her open, hard enough to feel her captured screaming terror in her throat.

Each time she closed her eyes he would squeeze his fist harder, and despite knowing she was about to die, reflex kept her cooperative, kept her pliable as he moulded her into the perfect Gypsy Barbie to follow his Dru. Dark hair, beauty incomparable, she would definitely do. As he reached the end—the end he had been deprived of not so long ago, he roared and launched himself at her throat, spearing her savagely with his teeth as he gripped her with the jaws of a predator. Tore her flesh and supped what was left of her body, his hips pistoning in time with the pulse of her blood as it hit the back of his throat. He slowed the thrusts of his cock as her pulse weakened, coming hard as her heart all but stalled.

Pulling back his face was awash with red, the power of gypsy blood making him brave and eager. Using his long nail he carved the sign of the cross into the spongy bell of his dick and shoved into deep into her moaning mouth, spurts of blood and cum gagging her even as he massaged her throat and laughed as the precious fluid soothed into her belly.

It was beautifully vicious and he was well proud of his creation, even if it had been an inspired act, carried out with little preparation.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was no less passion, but a shared direction they went as they joined again. His rhythm as he moved inside her was without measure as they stared into each other’s eyes, needing nothing more than the focus of one another. They could lose nothing to instinct, to destiny as they made themselves one in their hearts, and in their soulful depths.

Light, sticky kisses kept at them as they rolled side to side, a slow shift with Buffy now ending on top. She surged in energy as she sank down, sucking him in deep within and rocking against the rigidity that was solely for her pleasure.

She loved it. Was loving him as her eyes overfilled with happy tears and she felt the rub against her nerves that could bring her to a blissful conclusion for the night. And when her heart raced her scream to the stars, she felt her body pulse in time to the bursts that shot within her, felt the run of combined fluids as they mixed and leaked out from between them.

She sobbed into his mouth as he captured her lips again, massaged them desperately in an attempt to keep the clarity, to not lose the moment to some more divine inspiration that had plans for them. This was their moment and she wanted nothing encroaching on her delight, on her acceptance of this new trail of her life.

“I know who I am, Spike. I know who we are.” And she smiled, confident yet sad that for them to be, others had to cease and take up new direction. That her friends would suffer and her watcher—as much as she was annoyed with him—would have to reconcile himself to another loss.

“Ready to go home, baby? Might be an idea to get some kip before you go see your mum tomorrow.”

The Slayer nodded, shyly gaining her feet as she searched around for her clothing. They quickly dressed, kissed once again and began on their way, halting as they spied a shining Drusilla smiling upon them. She made no approach and so they continued on their way, the breaking of dawn little more than a whisper away.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

There had been shifts. No chances were taken in public places where vampires did not need a formal pass. So, shifts had been formed to cover the guilt of losing Jenny. No one was left without the protection of a Slayer, and at night the Scoobies benefited from a confused but reforming vamp.

The hospital did not require invitations and Joyce was too juicy a risk to be left unguarded. As the night rolled on, and Buffy washed and dressed, swapping creams and toothpaste for intermittent kisses with Spike in her bathroom, Kendra paced outside Joyce’s door.

The second Slayer was wary, feeling the pinpricks of danger as it danced up her spine to linger in the base of her skull. Yet she saw nothing, nothing but quiet corridors bereft of rushing doctor or nurse. Joyce was behind her, all plumped up with fresh blood and Kendra felt nothing but the apprehension that was pushing her to her feet, keeping her ready to bounce and kick if the promised threat materialized.

It was like a sharp explosion in her head as she spun around and found the darkness that stalked her. The teacher dressed breast to toe in skintight leather, her jacket barely making the leather bustier decent as her flesh spilled from the top.

“I might have known something like dis would come to pass. I will do my duty; do your worst vampires.”

There was no noise as the struggle commenced, no corruption to the rest and recuperation encouraged behind the closed patient doors. Violence was caught in a warp of overwhelming fear as Kendra found herself outflanked, outchallenged. They were two against one, baying for blood as the one only required dust, but her power was no match against the pair that beat her down, held her struggling against a wall as the male laughed in victory and gave permission for his childe to taste; to claim the blood of a Slayer.

The gypsy vamp called forth her new fangs, the Slayer cringing in fright against the protruding ridges of the once beautiful woman’s face. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm against losing, against dying even as the new one’s fangs were sunk into her vein. The first gulp was interrupted as another burst around the corner, another Slayer and a white-haired vampire bearing down upon the little party. Tides turned and now it was two against three. Angelus tipped his head to the assessing eyes of his childe, and as he got hard watching her continuing to drink even as they put themselves in the path of death, he ordered her to let go and follow him to safety.

They ran, allowing the other to slide down the wall, not waiting to know if she lived or died. Not waiting to gloat at those they were leaving in their wake.

That confrontation was for another day.

The brunette couple merged with the night, malice dripping from tongues and teeth as they tore their way back to their lair.

The shift in the balance was more than compensated. The change was known.

And the gauntlet was thrown.

Chapter Twelve END OF THE BLOODY LINE


Buffy rushed to Kendra’s side and applied pressure to the still spurting wound in the other slayer’s neck. She looked up at Spike questioningly and he nodded, reassuring her that the girl’s heartbeat was steady and strong. He went into Joyce’s room and pushed the buzzer for the nurse’s station and then joined Buffy in the hall, standing vigil over her as she comforted the sobbing girl in her arms.

“Dey was too strong. I tried, Buffy, but dey was jus’ too strong. De Gypsy woman, she is not like a fledgling – she is powerful already. I’m sorry…” the despair and disappointment in her voice was heartbreaking and Buffy struggled for the words to reassure the other slayer that she’d done her best.

Suddenly Spike was kneeling in front of them, forcing the distraught slayer to look him in the eye.

“Hey, Island Girl, you know all those times you threatened to stake me?”

Kendra nodded suspiciously.

“It wasn’t gonna happen, luv. You’re not a bad slayer, but you’re inexperienced and not as strong as you could be. Too predictable. Not like this one,” he smiled briefly at Buffy who was frowning, wondering where he was going with this.

“Angelus is a Master. He’s been around for a bloody long time and when he creates a childe, it ain’t gonna be your average fledgling. You throw Gypsy blood into that mix, and I’d say you did one helluva job to keep two of them busy and away from Joyce as long as you did.”

Kendra continued to stare at him suspiciously. She was just getting used to the idea that she shouldn’t be staking this unusual vampire on sight, and here he was trying to make her feel better about not being able to do her duty. She looked back at Buffy who was nodding vigorously.

“He’s right, Kendra. If I’d thought you were going to have to face two of them, I would never have left you alone here.”

She looked up at the night nurse who was rapidly assessing the situation and calling for an orderly to bring blood and a stretcher.

“She needs to stay in this room,” Buffy said firmly. “With my mother. We’ll be taking them home in the morning.”

The overworked woman left in charge for the night had been born and raised in Sunnydale. She looked at the wound on the dark girl’s neck and at the two lethal-looking blonds standing guard and nodded once. The orderly arrived with the rolling stretcher, but before he could move toward the injured slayer, Buffy had scooped Kendra up easily and deposited her gently on the rolling bed. He gawked at the tiny girl’s effortless lift, but the nurse just gestured to the room behind them and the man obediently rolled Kendra in and placed her bed near Joyce’s.

After Kendra had received several pints of blood and was napping peacefully, Buffy and Spike relaxed enough to sit in chairs outside the room. Spike had already checked the window and assured Buffy that it was as vampire-proof as a public place could be.

“Even if the gypsy bird has a few Drac-like tricks up her sleeve, it’s a long way down from here and nothing to climb. I can’t see either one of them getting up here and getting through that window without us knowin’ it.”

“I hope everyone else has the good sense to stay inside the house for the rest of the night,” Buffy mumbled.

“I doubt even the whelp is that stupid, ‘specially now that we know Angelus’s taken at least one of you down.”

He paused for a moment, wincing in sympathy as Buffy flinched at the reminder, then continued, “You know, don’t you, that he’s gonna keep comin’ after your friends and family? It’s the way he works. Takin’ the Watcher’s girl was jus’ the beginning. He’ll be furious at losing Dru…”

Spike closed his eyes briefly as the realization that she was gone from him forever truly sunk in. He was surprised to feel a gentle touch on his arm and found Buffy kneeling beside his chair and looking up at him with brimming eyes.

“I’m sorry, Spike. I know how much you loved her, but she’s happier now, don’t you think? She seemed really happy when she talked to us.”

She looked at him anxiously, torn between genuine concern for his feelings and the relief she felt that her one possible rival for his affections was gone. She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, allowing the love and empathy she was feeling to flow through their newly-realized connection.

He covered her hand with his own and brought it around to his mouth where he placed an open-mouthed kiss on her palm.

“Yes, love, I’m sure she is happier. And she’s where she belongs – with the angels. Or what passes for them among the Powers That Be,” he grimaced at the reminder of how little they had to say about what happened to them.


“And,” he added with a wicked smile as he stood and pulled her against his body, “It seemed she was giving us her blessing.”

“Mmmmmmm,” Buffy murmured as she pressed up against him, “Somebody did, that’s for sure. I’ve heard people say ‘the earth moved’ for them, but I think we’re the first couple to be struck by lightning.”

He laughed and nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent, now irrevocably mixed with his. “Yeah, I’ve gotta say, love, as good as I like to think I am, I might have a hard time followin’ that little performance.”

“You are gonna follow it, though, right? No more waiting till I’m old enough?”

“No more waiting. Think that genie’s out of the bottle and there’ll be no putting it back. You’re mine now, love. Forever.”

“Forever,” she echoed, pushing down the knowledge that her forever could come any time.

As though he knew what she was thinking, Spike tipped her head up and pinned her with iron-hard blue eyes. “There is no way you’re not gonna live as long as I do, Slayer. Whatever that power was that freed Dru and sent her to us, it affected us too. Made us somethin’ different, somethin’ more than we were before. You’re in me now, jus’ like I’m in you and I don’t see either one of us leaving this earth without the other.”

“If you weren’t on this earth, I don’t think I would want to be here,” Buffy said softly. “I don’t think I COULD be here. Not without you.”

“Well, there you go then,” he said, lightening the mood. “ ’M not gonna let you get killed, and you’re gonna be watchin’ my back. Ole Angelus doesn’t stand a chance. Don’ care how many Gypsies he turns.”

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

Shortly before dawn, Spike slipped down the bare corridor, racing the sun back to Revello Drive and his bed in the darkened basement. He waited anxiously until he heard the commotion that indicated Buffy had brought both Joyce and Kendra home, then quickly ran upstairs. Without speaking to anyone, he picked Joyce up and carried her to her room. He deposited her gently on the bed and turned to leave, only to be stopped by her soft voice.

“Spike.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her and waited while she fumbled for words.

“I…I owe you an apology. You and Buffy. You tried to warn me and I…I was a foolish woman. I put a man I barely knew ahead of my…family.”

He tried to hide the warmth spreading in his chest as Buffy’s mother included him in her family and responded gruffly, “You were lonely and he made you feel special. I know how that feels. No need to apologize to me, Joyce, but I ‘spect your daughter’d like to hear it.”

“She will,” she said firmly as she settled back against the pillows. “She definitely will.”

He nodded and went out into the hall. Buffy was just emerging from the spare room where she had insisted Kendra spend the day resting and getting her strength back.

“We’re going to need everyone we’ve got when we go after them,” Buffy said firmly. “So I want you to rest until you are back to full strength, ‘K?”

There was grumbled agreement from the other Slayer, who snuggled down in the bed with a pout on her face, but was asleep within minutes.

Buffy sighed and leaned against the cool, comforting body in front of her.

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” she whispered into his chest.

“No, love, it isn’t. But you’re not in it alone. You’ll never be alone – I’m here, and I’m staying here.


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

Angelus was reveling in his new companion. He stared down at her, spread wantonly on his bed, waiting for him to take what he wanted. He licked his lips as he took in her lush beauty.

“The Master was always blathering for ages and ages about certain rules. Not that I paid much heed to auld bat nose, but I remembered him once telling us not to turn gypsies. I knew that old bastard was hiding something. He just didn’t want me to know what it could be like. Such a fine thing you are. Between us we are going to make the streets run with blood.”

He leaned over her and sank his teeth into her full breast, growling softly as she moaned and writhed under him. Her legs came up to wrap around his back and she pulled him down so that his cock was pressing into her sex.

“Aye, you want that, do you, Gypsy? You want Angelus to fuck you?” He held himself up on powerful arms, refusing to allow her the contact she was demanding. The vampire under him was snarling and baring her teeth, snapping at his neck that remained just out of reach.

Suddenly he backhanded her, snarling, “You don’t bite me without permission, Childe.”

Instead of cowering and pleading for forgiveness as Drusilla would have, Jenny twisted her head and sank her teeth into the hand that had slapped her, meeting the older vampire’s astonished eyes as she pulled his blood into her throat. He was torn between the demon’s rage at her lack of respect for her sire and his admiration of her viciousness.

With a guttural snarl, he pulled his hand away, heedless of the pain as her teeth ripped free. He used the bloody hand to punch her in the face. Then, sitting up on her chest, he systematically battered her face with both fists until it was a mass of swollen, bruised and bloody flesh.

When his new consort had stopped snarling and was lying still beneath him, whimpering slightly, he stopped and glared down at her.

“Such cheek! Don’t ever challenge me again, Childe. I made you to rule at my side, but I can replace you just as easily as I replaced Drusilla….”

He shuddered for a second, the memory of the dark-haired vampire’s torn body and final agonized scream dampening his anger and lust. His demon howled internally, aware that somehow, not only had his greatest creation been lost to him physically, but that in her final seconds she had escaped the eternal damnation to which his siring should have condemned her.

Shrugging off the uncomfortable feeling that he was missing something important about the night’s events, he focused his attention back on the softly sobbing childe underneath him. He slid down her body and rammed his cock into her, rejoicing in her gasp of pain and surprise. But when she once again wrapped her legs around him and began to push against his bulk, he growled softly and allowed her to take what pleasure she could in his rough love-making.

Confident that he had re-established his dominance, he failed to notice the angry glint in the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut or the defiance still visible on the battered face buried in his neck.

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

“We have to warn Giles about Jenny.” Buffy’s flat voice indicated that it was only her Slayer sense of duty that made her at all interested in what happened to her Watcher.

“I’ll do it,” Willow volunteered. “I have to get home and to school. I’ll tell Giles about Jenny.”

Buffy nodded her head tiredly, leaning back against Spike’s supporting chest and not even noticing her friend’s wide eyes as he nuzzled the new marks on her neck. The vampire saw, though, and said gruffly, “Tell him it turns out the Powers That Like to Fuck With People’s Lives have decided the Slayer and I are their latest toys. If and when he’s ready to start behaving like her Watcher and not like a bloody wanker, we’ll fill him in on what we know.”

“Fuck him,” Buffy growled, causing Willow’s eyeballs to expand past what should have been physically possible.

Spike chuckled and pulled her closer to his chest. “Does that little bit of channeling me mean I’m gonna be wanting to wear high heels and carry a purse, pet? Cause if it does, I’m gonna be having a serious conversation with those soddin’ Powers.”

Buffy opened her eyes and looked at Willow apologetically. “I’m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean that. Well, maybe a little bit, I did. We need to get some rest now, but I think we should get everybody together this afternoon so that Spike and I, and Kendra, can bring everybody up to speed.”

Willow nodded her head, trying to smother the curiosity that was demanding she stay there and fire questions at the obviously exhausted duo.

“Okay, I’ll let Xander know…and Giles. We can all meet back here this afternoon.”

With a nod, Buffy turned and started toward the basement, turning at the entrance to the kitchen to look at the vampire.

“Are you coming or not?”

As Spike’s chuckle rolled over her, Willow slapped her hands over her ears just as he leered at Buffy and answered, “I’m expecting to, love. Definitely expecting to…”

The Slayer roller her eyes and with a final flip of her hand at Willow, she opened the basement door and started down the stairs, the vampire following like a blond shadow.




End of the Bloody Line – Chapter 13

He was on her before they hit the bottom step, his hand on her neck sending shivers down her back, electrifying her tired muscles. Fatigue dissipated and Buffy nearly faltered on the steps. Rather than let her fall, Spike swept her up, cradling her close, his mouth on her neck just below her ear. Inhaling deeply, Spike groaned into her skin, “You smell so damn good. Wan’ to just eat you up, little girl.”

She should be scared; his words should frighten her; he was, after all, a master vampire. But she wasn’t afraid. Oh, her heartbeat did increase and her breathing changed but in a good way.

All she said was his name on a breath, and his control was gone. Growling low in his throat, his free hand slipped under her shirt to cup her breast, his thumb unerringly homing in on her nipple. Buffy arched up into his hand, her mouth seeking his, her tongue licking along his chin. Lost in the sensations of his hand on her and being so close to him again, Buffy never even realized they’d reached the bed. Spike rolled them both onto the bed, ending up flat on his back with her draped over him like a living blanket. His lips sought out hers, his hands diving under her shirt releasing her bra catch. She pushed herself up, disengaging from his mouth, letting him lift her shirt up. His mouth closed around a nipple, his hand cupping the other, palming the lushness. His growls filled the still air, countered by her gasping pants.

The thud of her shoes hitting the floor was missed in the noises he was making. His mouth pulling on her sent pulses of want straight to her womb, and Buffy whimpered, whispering his name, begging him to take her, writhing her mound against his hardness. “Oh god. Spike. Please.”

Her scent was driving him wild. Couldn’t get close enough, needed to be closer still. Rolling them over, Spike freed her arms of her shirt and bra, leaving her bared to his gaze, his touch, and his mouth. Little nipping kisses rained on her skin, raising roughened flesh under his lips. He needed to see her - all of her spread out before him like a banquet. Licking a path first from one nipple to the other, Spike slid his hand into her pants, his cool hand cupping her ass, holding her against his rock hard erection. Just the tip of his tongue was on her now, brushing against her hard nipple. Buffy’s hands were worming their way into his jeans, holding him tight against her as she bucked into him. “Spike . . . please.”

Her whimpers grew in volume when he growled and lifted his hips away from hers. “Wanna see you ... wanna watch you come apart for me.”

Spike leered at her, his midnight blue eyes twinkling and his brows jerking.

The pop of the button and zipper was loud in her ears, but Buffy didn’t care . . . She wanted to feel him against her – head to toe – wanted his hard length filling her up. Slowly he slid her pants down, tugging from the bottom. Suddenly there was nothing but a red thong between his touch and her flesh and it was too much.

Laying open-mouthed bites along her inner thighs, Spike slid one finger inside that barely-there scrap of silk, teasing her folds. Buffy bucked up her hips, practically offering herself to him.

Spike slid another finger past the barrier, his eyes never leaving her face. She was flushed with arousal; legs spread wide, pert breasts aching for his mouth. But he resisted her siren’s call, concentrating on teasing her unmercifully. “Come for me little kitty . . . gimme some cream luv . . ..”

Two fingers entered her warm depths, and Buffy lifted her hips again, his name a chant interspersed with her begging him for more.

He ripped the side of her thong using his free hand, pulling the tiny bits of silk away from her body. She was all pink and glistening framed with dark gold curls. Beautiful, she was beautiful, his golden girl, growling low in his throat, watching her, he rumbled out her name. His fingers were still pumping in and out, and he knew it wasn’t enough anymore.

Spike needed to taste her, needed . . . inhaling deeply, he shook his head to clear it, then settled between her legs. The first touch of his cool mouth on her overheated flesh sent shock tremors through her, forcing a shriek out from her gasping lungs, his name a long exhalation. She could feel his grin against her, and her hips bucked up again. Nibbling on her clit, pumping his fingers in her, her taste on his tongue, in his mouth, his senses drowning in her, Spike realized he was lost . . . was never ever going to let her go. Even without the bond, he wasn’t ever going to let her go.

Buffy hooked her toes into his waistband, tugging on his jeans, nudging his arms with her knees. He was still fully clothed, his erection painfully hard against his jeans, but he couldn’t break away from the deliciousness of her pussy in his mouth. He growled again, the sound vibrating into her and her inner muscles began the fluttering that signaled her climax. One last hard suck, causing his girl to squeal and Spike lifted his mouth away from her, watching her in the throes of a bone shaking orgasm. Bloody hell she’s beautiful . . . my kitten, my Slayer.

A possessiveness Spike didn’t realize he’d ever been capable of rolled through him, urging him to mark her, claiming her over and above what had happened in the cemetery. That had been something else, something otherworldly and beyond the both of them, beyond Buffy and Spike, perhaps even beyond good and evil, light and dark. But this feeling … this compulsion that was driving him now was just them, the two of them, no one and nothing else. He wanted her to be his. Always.

And not just at the whim of the Powers-that-fuck-with-you.

His voice rolled through her, her name a prayer on his lips, and her writhing movement stilled, hearing him calling her. “Spike?. . . Spike, please . . . don’t . . ..”

Her voice broke on a sob, her hands reaching for him, trying to hold him against her, sudden fear sweeping through her that he was going to leave her, “Spike, don’t leave me, please, don’t . . . leave me.”

“Not goin’ anywhere sweets, not now. Not ever.” Belying his words, Spike sat up after laying a kiss just above her glistening curls, nipping her slightly in the process.

“Spike . . . come back,” was her whined plea, but he ignored her.

His back to her, obviously heaving with unneeded breaths, Spike was clawing at his boots in an effort to get them off, but his hands were shaking and he couldn’t unlace or unbuckle them. It wasn’t until she rolled over, curling against his side that she realized what he was doing. She could see his hands faltering on the buckles, and taking pity on the clearly flustered vampire, Buffy slid her arms around his waist.

“Hey,” she breathed against his back, drawing in his scent, feeling his muscles flexed beneath her cheek. “Hey,” she said again, this time snaking her warm fingers under his tee shirt, running a hand over his black denim covered erection. He groaned in response, his hips involuntarily bucking up into her hand. “Spike, wanna feel you . . . can I?”

“Oh fuck, yeah . . . jus’ do it.” His words rasped out from behind clenched teeth, his head angled up so he wasn’t watching, staring at what her hot little hands were doing to him. It was enough that he could feel it. “Oh fucking hell, Slayer jus’ . . ..”

One little hand slid around his waist to cup his hard length, the other finger walking up his zipper to the button at the waistband. The pop of it opening was loud in the air and Spike groaned again when Buffy slid her hand inside cupping him, stroking the silky hardness.

Nuzzling her mouth against his back, Buffy whispered, “Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?”

“Not gonna ever say no.” His ironic laugh filled the air around them, and Buffy giggled softly in response.

“So. You gonna get naked for me or just make me imagine it all?” Her hand squeezed up and down his hard cock, her thumb flicking over the head.

Spike growled again, once more leaning over to get his boots off, his mind blank of everything but her. This time the buckles and laces cooperated, and he wrenched the boots off, throwing them nearly across the basement in his haste. Buffy pushed his shirt up over his shoulders while he wriggled out of his jeans, kicking them off also. His clothes landed in a heap, scattered just like hers, and then finally they were skin to skin, her legs draped around his hips, her breasts molded against his hard chest.

“Feels so good. Want you now, little girl, wanna be inside. Gonna let me in?” Spike’s voice vibrated through her as she laid small kisses across his deceptively angelic face and hard shoulders. Her hips wriggled of their own accord, and suddenly she was beneath him, his hips forcing hers wide, his cock nudging at her entrance. “Let me in . . . c’mon little girl, lemme in.”

She couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak. She could only thrust her hips against him, scrabbling her fingers against his back, digging her nails into his skin, urging him on.

“Buffy . . . look at me . . . c’mon look.” His face was a breath away from hers, his eyes intent on her, willing her to calm and look up at him. Wide, passion-glazed green eyes shot with gold stared opened, their lashes tangling together. “Kitten, gonna make you mine, all mine.”

By way of answering, she tilted her hips up, grinding herself on him. She didn’t flinch, didn’t back away, didn’t shriek in surprise or fear when his eyes shifted, changing from cerulean to amber, his face altering, ridges forming and canines elongating. He hesitated, almost afraid she would reject him, and when, instead of pushing him away Buffy pulled him closer her mouth seeking his, Spike’ own heart expanded. Words he never thought to utter to the child-woman in his arms, the Slayer, tumbled from his lips “Love you, bleeding hell, I love you . . ..”

“Please Spike stop teasing me . . . please . . ..” Burying her head against his neck, struck with sudden inspiration, she knew of one certain way to get him to move, to finally end the torment. She bit him. Hard. Where his pulse should pound against his skin but no longer did. Buffy bit him with the accuracy of a master vampire, directly over his long silent jugular vein. Spike’s entire body jerked against her, his cock slipping easily inside her pulsing cavern, her warmth increasing his tremors. His mouth sought out her pulse points, sucking and nibbling on her skin, using his tongue to trace along the length of the vein beneath her skin.

Beyond thinking, Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him down, his pelvic bones bumping her clit, his cock pounding against that elusive spongy part inside of her that . . . shook and shivered and . . . “oh god . . . oh Spike . . . Spike . . . Please. Now!”

Sharp teeth rasped along her neck, scraping against wet and sensitive skin, until finally, with her writhing against him, her pussy like a vice around his cock, Spike sunk his teeth inside her.

The taste of the first swallow hit the back of his throat like a tsunami, eclipsing every other single sense, drowning him in her waves. The second was better still, and by the third, every nerve in Spike’s body was strung tight, poised on the brink of exploding, Buffy’s keening cries reverberating in his ear, her fingers digging in, drawing blood, her legs wrapped around him tightening, her pussy pulsing around him strangling his cock, drawing him in because this warm living woman was created for him only, meant for him, always for him, only his. Until there was no thought in his head, nothing more than this racing through every molecule, every cell, every piece of him calling to every bit of her, falling inside her, swimming inside her veins, and she was him and he was her and there was nothing left but . . . “mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Rupert Giles was a man in the middle of crisis of faith. Faith in himself, faith in his mission, faith in everything he’d been taught from the organization that recruited him, oh-so-many years ago. He was broken. Everything he knew about vampires, everything he knew about Slayers was now under intense and terrifying scrutiny. No longer able to believe what the Council had force-fed him during his intensive training, Rupert had to now rely on his own formidable intuition and his own innate sense of right and wrong. He’d been wrong. So very, very wrong. He’d placed his trust in a vampire of unknown quantity, believing naively, perhaps that ownership of a soul made one different from a monster. And instead of trusting his own Slayer, trusting her intuition and her judgment, he’d placed not only her in danger, but her mother and others.

Joyce had nearly died because of his own carelessness and foolishness.

Kendra had also come into more danger because she was left alone to guard Joyce.

The children were all in harm’s way now.

And Jenny . . . Jenny of the dark flashing eyes and warm creamy skin; Jenny, who made his heart smile and gave him a hope for a future not tied up in a Slayer or a Council; Jenny, who’s quick wit and knowing, nearly wanton smile challenged him from his complacency and reticent British facade; Jenny, who he loved . . . was now in the hands of a true monster, the vampire that Giles had once trusted.

And the vampire he hadn’t trusted? He was home, with his Slayers – both of them – making plans to save his Jenny.

Rupert Giles had no idea how to get a handle on the situation. No idea how to come to grips with the one hundred and eighty degree turn his life had just taken. Unable to trust his own judgment, unable to trust his Slayer’s judgment, unable to trust anyone at all, Rupert had no idea what to do. For once in his life, his intellect and intuition and his art could not salvage anything.

He had to swallow his pride and beg his Slayer to forgive him.

He wasn’t so sure he was deserving of any absolution or forgiveness at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow approached the library doors, totally at a loss of how to break the bad news to Mr. Giles. Stopping just short of the doors, Willow froze, her mind wandering down twenty different paths. Cheerful doesn’t work. I can do matter of fact. Right. Oh god. How’s this? Mr. Giles, I have to tell you. No, can’t do that either. Um. Okay . . . maybe I should just, you know, break it to him gently. Or something . . . or oh no. I really don’t know how to do this.

Unaware she was pacing back and forth, Willow ran through all the possible ways she could tell Giles about what had happened to Jenny. She knew she was prolonging the inevitable. Well just no more of that missy. Steeling her features, Willow pushed through the double doors of the library only to find the place devoid of any human presence.

“Giles?” Willow nearly stamped her foot in frustration. After all that he’s not here? What the heck kind of librarian isn’t in a library. “Giles?”

There was a rustle of noise from his office, and Willow headed in that direction, only to be stopped short by a hand on her shoulder.

Her shriek of surprise echoed against the stacks of books. Swinging her books around, slamming the heavy weight around and into the belly of her assailant, Willow danced out of reach. Her delight over incapacitating her assailant quickly changed to guilt and remorse when she realized she’d nearly gutted Mr. Giles with her textbooks.

“Ooops. Sorry Mr. Giles.” Looking at the still doubled over librarian, Willow moved closer, then sort of pushed and pulled him to a chair. “Are you okay?”

“Can’t breathe.” He gasped out, unable to catch a deep breath, his face nearly blue.

Willow didn’t know what to do. “I’m soo sorry. Can you breathe now?”

His alarming coloring eased, as his lungs began to fill with much needed air. “I realize Willow, that we are all on edge about, well, everything, but was it necessary for you to nearly disembowel me the hard way?”

“Yup. You’re fine.” At his quizzical look, Willow matter of factly stated, “You’re all with the using of big words again and, you know, using way to many of them.”

“Indeed.” Thoroughly peeved, Giles resorted to his facade of the meek librarian, abruptly getting to his feet. “Really Miss Rosenberg, what brings you here?”

“Buffy sent me.” At his hopeful look, Willow had to clarify that statement, “Actually, I volunteered to come. She and Spike were gonna go to sleep, and they brought her mom and Kendra home, and everyone’s okay so far, well, not really all okay, I mean there’s other things going on, but hey, you know everyone’s still okay.”

Giles stared at the redhead, a blank expression on his face, yet his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Does she really think I’m a doddering old man, that I don’t understand what she’s trying to avoid saying? Quite possibly she does. Willow is not stupid.

“Are you aware that you’re babbling?” He directed her to a chair, sitting her down so that she calmed and also so that she wouldn’t be able to make a quick escape while he questioned her. Without waiting for her to answer his rhetorical question, Giles quickly got to the point. “What is it you volunteered to do?”

Willow glanced up at him, her dark green eyes suddenly filling with tears, and a sad expression on her features. “Willow?”

“I’m so sorry. Really, Giles I am. But I, and I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, really.” Taking a deep breath, Willow continued, “Buffy’s still really upset. But I think she would have told you if she could. And Kendra, she’s still weak from getting bitten, and . . . I’m doing it again aren’t I?” She shifted beneath his intense gaze, afraid to meet his eyes, suddenly not wanting to tell Giles this information.

“Willow what aren’t you telling me?” Giles was certain he would rather not hear this information, but realized he had no choice but to listen. “Perhaps it would be easier if you just told me.”

“Giles. Kendra was at the hospital watching Buffy’s mom and Angel. I mean Angelus attacked her. He had another vampire with him.”

His heart suddenly felt very hollow and the air he’d been able to get into his lungs deflated, leaving him breathless and feeling very thin. Giles blanched, his coloring leaching away. “Oh dear god.”

Slumping against the table, Giles hid his face from Willow’s sympathetic look, unwilling to share his agony and grief with her.

“Mr. Giles?” Willow leaned up and touched his arm, trying to comfort him. He flinched away from her, moving away from the table, trying to regain some semblance of control over his swirling emotions.

It took him long minutes, most of that spent with his eyes closed, images of the beautiful dark haired woman swimming behind his eyes. My foolishness drove her to this. My mistakes. My blindness and inability to . . . no. It wasn’t my inability to listen. It was my unwillingness. Oh Jenny.

“Tell me what you know.” His was far from steady, but they both ignored the wavering, instead concentrating on what she could tell him. The tale wasn’t very long, in fact was nothing more than a few brief and succinct sentences, but it was enough. His Jenny was no more. She was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t realize until he was laying on top of her, every muscle in his body lax and feeling exactly what he imagined limp noodles felt like, just what he’d done. Shifting his head off her shoulder, he felt a sharp sting, opposite the marks Drusilla had given him so very many years ago. She. . . no. . Fucking way. She didn’t.

She did. Buffy had bitten him, through the skin, and his neck now sported another mark. Her mark. Spike lifted up on both elbows looking down at the golden girl beneath him, astonished at what she’d done. He wasn’t really sure which one of them had initiated it and right now it hardly mattered. What mattered was she’d accepted and acknowledged his right to do . . . to claim her.

Her eyelids were closed over those gorgeous green orbs, her lashes dark and full over her sun-kissed cheeks. She was beautiful. And she was his. Forever. With the blessing of the Powers-that-fuck-you and even when that was no longer . . ..

“Buffy. Open your eyes.” A long pale finger stroked down her face, covering each feature with exquisite tenderness. “C’mon kitten, look at me.”

Titling her head, Buffy barely opened her eyes to look at him. A whisper soft sigh escaped from her mouth and in the next breath, she completely stole his heart, by saying, “I love you Spike. I’m yours always.”

For once in his long existence at a loss for words, Spike did the only thing he could think of to do. He shifted his hips, settling back inside her slippery warmth and began thrusting into her inch by slow inch. “Love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was quiet. There were no noises, save from outside the four walls of this place. There was no sound, no steady thumb of a heartbeat within her breast, no rush of air compressed from her lungs. Nothing. All was silent.

Except for the voices in her head.
She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t hearing things like the other one. She knew what these voices were – they were only parts of herself screaming in agony. Pain from the beating she’d taken earlier radiated from every part of her. She was particularly happy for only one thing. She could not see the damage her Sire had wrought on her features.

Jenny cracked open one eye, looking around for the Irish bastard, her muscles tensed in anticipation of another beating if he was nearby. He was strong, she’d give him that much. But he wasn’t smart – and he certainly wasn’t anything like her. Hate surged through her, threatening to consume every part of her, but it goaded her into action when she realized he wasn’t in the room with her. She could feel him, pacing the floor in another room, could almost hear his idiotic ramblings with her newly enhanced hearing.

She needed to feed. Needed fresh, lovely, red blood. Sliding down her throat, filling her up from the bottomless well that was now her soul. Gingerly she raised herself up, fearing for a moment that her new strength would desert her. Testing herself, Jenny stretched her limbs, trying out each muscle. Moving warily, listening intently for any sign that her Sire felt her shifting around, Jenny got to her feet. Her feet were on solid ground, her legs not the rubbery noodles she thought they were going to be and Jenny realized she felt better than she had a moment ago.

She had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. Since Angelus had taken her captive, time had ceased to fully exist, save in moments that were between pain, between torture. At least now she was safe, relatively speaking. She was nearly to the door to the bedroom when she felt Angelus slip into sleep. Startling herself by growling softly, Jenny at first glanced around to see who was in the room with her making such noises, then stifled a soft angry laugh when she realized she was alone.

On soft silent feet she padded through the warehouse, idly noting the amount of dust piles throughout, as she made her way to her Sire. Just the thought of him brought a sneer to her battered features. She hated him with a passion that she’d never before in her life felt. Liam, Angelus or Angel, it hardly mattered which name he used, he was still nothing more than a drunken Irish lout. A bog-trotting sot who’d reeled his drunken way from one slaughter to the next, never once seeking to change himself. He’d played a game as Angel, pretending to the world and the Slayer that he was more than what he was – a brutal sadistic killer. But she knew. Now she understood far better than she had before, when she was still among the living.

Jenny halted at the sight of him, sprawled out on a clean bed, limbs skewed this way and that. The room reeked of sour whiskey and old blood. The stench surrounding him assaulted her delicate sense of smell, her nose wrinkling in distaste. Gods what a fucking pig he is, she thought, taking note of the blood still splattered on his naked form. Blood. Suddenly the craving was on her, her salivary glands flooding her mouth with the need, the desire to bleed someone, drain them until they were dead, consuming them in her hunger. Did you leave me something to eat, you disgusting troll? Or were you going to let me starve? Tilting her head to survey the scene before her, Jenny narrowed her eyes, fixating on the blue veins running beneath her Sire’s pale form. He might be drunk enough . . . knowing he would beat her again if she fed from him without permission, she sneered. He might try it . . . but this time, he wouldn’t succeed. She could feel the power surging in her, the magics her people had always had access to swirling around her like patterns of air around her.

Magics, vampire senses, everything swirled in her, running in rainbow patterns of blood red to pale pink, shifting as her vision shifted. Sniffing the air around her, she moved closer to his sleeping form. Fuck it. He stole from me. He took something from me. Too god damned bad if he doesn’t like it. I’m not weak in the head like Drusilla was. Let him just try it now . . .just once. I will make you burn, Angelus. Dance in the fires of your own destruction. I am not your plaything . . . I am Rom, I am still of my people. I will not let you destroy me the way you did the other. . . . Before she could secondguess herself, Jenny slid to the bed, sliding slowly up the sheets, resting against his still form.

Reaching out with all of her senses, Jenny probed the corpse beside her. An ironic chuckle surfaced in her mind . . . dead to all the world. Good. Cobra quick, she struck, her fangs in his throat, Sire’s blood flowing into her, strengthening her, healing all the cuts and bruises that marred her features.

She drank, filling the chasm that was her aching hunger, swallowing deeply her Sire’s essence.

She drank, becoming drunk herself on his blood, power coursing through her, adding to the already thumping powers surging through her.

She drank, draining her Sire . . . depleting his strength.

Finally done, Jenny got up, wiping her mouth, a vicious sadistic smile on her features.

Without a glance back at her Sire, Jenny stalked from the room, sparks flaring from her fingertips.

Chapter by Mefiant

Spike lay flush against Buffy’s back, his cock still nestled in her warmth as he dozed lightly, waking every now and then to reassure himself that Buffy was still sleeping calmly.  With everything that had been happening with Angelus, Dru and now the watcher’s girl, her sleep had been filled with troubled dreams.  He shifted slightly, pulling her closer to him and enjoying the mews of contentment that his action elicited, as well as the slight wriggle of her body against his rapidly hardening member. 

He lazily drifted one hand up to cup her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.  The other he positioned over her clit, rubbing it gently.  Buffy moaned and pushed her arse further backwards, her increased heartbeat signalling her emergence from sleep. “Hmmmm more.” 

Spike chuckled, “Thought you were asleep?” He began to work her clit more vigorously, all the while resisting the urge to begin thrusting inside her once again.

“Yeah sure you did,” Buffy twisted her head towards him, “so are you just going to play, or are you going to get serious with that thing?” She clenched her inner muscles lightly as she spoke.

“Would love to get serious pet, but we got company coming.” Spike reached down to grab the blanket, pulling it up to cover Buffy discretely.

“Who?” Buffy glanced towards the stairs.

“Red.” Spike sat up and spying his jeans on the floor, he jumped up from the cot and pulled them on in one fluid movement.  A rapid knock sounded on the door just as he eased them over his firm buttocks.

“Buffy, Spike, I’m coming down it’s urgent.” Willow yelled franticly as she opened the door and began to feel her way down in the dark.  She blinked and almost fell as the light suddenly turned on, blinding her momentarily with its brightness.

“Will what’s wrong?” Buffy stood at the base of the stairs wrapped in the blanket and looked up at her worriedly.

Spike silently began to gather her clothes handing them to her, before he began the search for his boots.  Something was seriously wrong as he could feel the waves of stress and fear pouring out of her.  His demon was baying for release, not to attack the young girl before him, but to hunt down and destroy those who would cause her such pain.

Willow almost leapt down the remaining stairs, “I was only gone for a minute, and I mean, I knew he was upset and grieving, but he asked for some tea and then I couldn’t find the packet, and it took longer then I thought, and when I got back the cage was open, and there are things missing, and I looked everywhere, and I can’t find him.” Tears were streaming down her face as she twisted her hands together, causing them to redden at the abuse.

“Who can’t you find, Will?” Buffy wrapped her friend up in her arms as she tried to calm her.

“I’m guessin’ the Watcher.” Spike came up to stand beside the girls, “You told him about his girl, and first chance he got he took off.  Am I right?”

Willow nodded, “I think he’s gone after Angelus and Miss Calender.” She started to sob loudly again, “He’s going to get killed.”

Buffy turned frantic eyes towards Spike, “We have to find him.”

Spike nodded, “We’ll find him luv, I promise.”

He wrapped an arm around Willow’s shoulder, carefully leading her back upstairs and allowing Buffy time to get dressed. “Buffy and I’ll go after the Watcher and bring him back all safe and sound in a neat Tweed package.  But we need you to stay here and keep an eye on Joyce and the other Slayer.”  He settled the still distraught teenager onto a stool in the kitchen as he busied himself with making her a hot chocolate, “Why don’t you call the whelp and get him to come keep you company till we get back?”

Buffy strode into the kitchen, “Ok, we grab some weapons, and then we go find Giles.” A look of determination crossed her face, “We don’t come back without him.”

A few minutes later they stood at the front door, stakes secreted around their bodies and holy water stuffed in pockets.  Buffy also held a long sword, while Spike wielded a wicked looking axe.

“Let’s go get your watcher, pet!” Spike growled, as the two blondes strode off into the night.

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

Giles approached the mansion cautiously, stopping short in the street he stared up at its imposing façade.  The cool night air tickled the hairs on the back of his neck, or maybe he was just picking up on the fact that he was about to walk into a master vampire’s lair.

He closed his eyes for a moment; Jenny was in there, or at least a creature that now walked around in her body.  His resolved hardened; he was going to go in there and destroy the creature that had taken his love’s place, and if Angelus got in his way then he would destroy him too.

Deep inside Giles knew that he would most likely fail, that he would probably end up dead.  Part of him ached for it, longed to join the soul of his beloved.

Giles tightened his grip on the crossbow he held in his hands.  His plan was to fire off a few bolts, then grab the stake resting in his pocket and take out as many of the vile creatures as he could as he made his way to Jenny.


Taking a deep breath he slowly turned the doorknob, what he wouldn’t give for slayer strength at the moment, to be able to kick the door down and burst in guns blazing so to speak.  Instead he opened the door as silently as possible; praying fervently that the vampires inside hadn’t picked up on the sound of his pounding heartbeat.  He slipped inside, crossbow at the ready, only to be met with total silence.  Frowning Giles scanned the room.  He knew that many of the minions would be out hunting, but he had expected to come up against some resistance.  It was then that he noticed small piles of dust dotted around the room.  ‘So Angelus had a bad day did he?’

Tentatively he moved further into the room, eyes darting from side to side as he crept towards a large door on the other side of the room.  Pushing the solid wooden door open slowly, Giles took in the sight before him.  Angelus lay on the large bed, his skin drawn tight, his lips moving slightly, as though he were whispering.

Giles stepped up to the bed to stare down into a pair of hungry, pain filled eyes.  Giles noticed a large gaping hole in the side of his neck, part of the sheet stuck to the dried blood that surrounded the wound.  Giles aimed the crossbow at the weakened vampire’s heart, “What happened?” His eyes hardened as he heard a soft rasping laugh escape from the form on the bed.

“My new childe is a little disobedient.” Angelus reached a hand up desperately trying to grasp Giles arm, “I think I’ll have myself a little snack before I go teach her who’s the master here.”

Giles stepped back laughing, “What do you think you’d be able to do Angelus?”

Gathering his courage Giles stepped closer to the bed, leaning down close to the stricken vampire’s face, “Look at you, lying there like a dried up old husk.  You’re just a pathetic shell, brought to the brink of destruction by your own vile creation.” He pressed the tip of the bow to Angelus’s chest a cold, malevolent smile transformed his usually benign features, “I wonder if it’s more painful if it goes in slowly?” Giles began to apply pressure to the bow, gradually inching the tip deeper and deeper until it came in contact with the hard bone of the vampire’s ribs.

“Oh my, it seems we’ve hit a little obstacle.” Giles twisted the bow, leaning heavily onto it as he tried to force it through and into the creature’s chest cavity.

Angelus lay writhing on the bed, too weak to push his tormentor away, his dry throat unable to release the screams of pain that expanded inside him. 

Grunting, Giles once again tried to force the arrow deeper, “It seems we have a small problem.” Giles smiled derisively, “It appears to be stuck.  Oh well, the fast way it is then.” He moved his finger a fraction, sending the bolt straight into Angelus’s heart, instantly transforming the master vampire into dust.

As he straightened from the bed, a cool hand wrapped around his throat, a feminine body pressed tight against his back. Soft lips caressed his earlobe in a whisper, “My my, someone’s been a bad boy.” Jenny stepped round to stand in front of him, hand still firmly clasped around his throat.

Moving forward Jenny let her other hand trail slowly down across his body, “Such viciousness Rupert, I didn’t know you had it in you.”  She moved closer, plucking the crossbow from his numb fingers, as several minions carefully removed any other weapons he had stowed in various locations.

“You know I really should be annoyed with you, Angelus was my sire after all.”  She moved closer so that she rested her cheek against his, “But lets face it, he was an asshole.” She turned her face and began to trail her tongue across his cheek, “And I think I’d make a much better master, don’t you?”  Slowly she moved her lips downwards, caressing his skin with her lips until she found the small pulse that so fascinated her.  She cupped his cock with her hand, rubbing him provocatively, until she finally plunged her fangs into his neck, taking long deliberate pulls.
--------------------------

Jenny strolled through Sunnydale, a small group of minions trailing behind her, dragging a near-unconscious Giles with them.

“You know I never realized how much potential there was in this town.”  Standing she turned to stare down the street, a small sign on one of the shops catching her eye.  “I think we need a change of scenery.”  She casually moved forward, a small crackle of energy dancing from her fingertips. 

Jenny stood in front of the store staring at the sign, “The Magic Box.” Looking through the window she noticed a figure moving around inside, “Looks like we found our new home.” Turning to the minions she smiled widely, “Let’s have some fun.”

Motioning for the others to stay out of sight Jenny walked through the door of the shop, trying to remember to act as though she were still the human Jenny Calender.

“Jenny, hello.” the dark haired woman inside smiled her greeting, “What can I get for you?”

“Daina,” Jenny moved closer until she stood directly in front of the unsuspecting woman. “You’re always so helpful.  I’m sure you’ll have no problems giving me what I want.”

Daina looked puzzled at her best customer’s choice of words, and then turned fearful as the door opened once again admitting a group of deformed looking men, who were dragging another man behind them.  “Mr. Giles?” she gasped when he raised his head trying to gain his bearings.

Giles looked about himself blearily.  His neck was throbbing and his head ached; his eyes felt gritty and sore, and he felt as though he were looking at the world through thick glass.  ‘Glass, glasses, where were his glasses?’  Peering through the fog of his vision he saw two dark haired women standing across the room from him, one looked like the young shopkeeper from The Magic Box.   

“Jenny?” Giles throat felt like sandpaper as he croaked the word out, almost immediately he remembered what jenny now was.  He turned horrified eyes to the oblivious shopkeeper, “Run! Run!”

Daina felt the terror building inside of her.  Mr. Giles was telling her to run, and that’s exactly what she was going to do.  Grabbing at Jenny’s hand she tugged her towards the back of the store, “We have to get out of here, it’s not safe.”

Jenny allowed herself to be pulled along, her demon enjoying her small deception, “You’re right, it’s not safe,” Stopping suddenly she twisted the girl’s arm, roughly dragging her round to face her as she slipped into game face, “for you that is.”

Jenny viciously twisted the girl’s head to the side, licking at the pulsing vein just beneath the skin, before plunging her fangs into the tender flesh.  Her demon rejoiced as the rich; fear-laden blood flowed readily into her mouth, the sound of the girl’s terrified whimpers filling her ears.  

‘Janna,’ a soft voice whispered through her mind, causing her to pause momentarily. ‘JANNA!’ the voice became more forceful, repelling the demon from its prize. 

Jenny’s vampiric face melted away as she stared down at the weeping girl at her feet.  Frowning she tried to work out what was happening, her demon was howling in rage at the interruption, but it was also slinking deep down inside her as though it feared the voice in her head.  “Uncle?” 

Jenny turned in circles, expecting to see her kin somewhere close, but there was nothing.  A rushing sounded in her ears as what seemed like a thousand voices began to whisper and chant in her mind.  Then she knew.  They were the voices of her clan softly chanting the words of an ancient curse.

Giles watched in morbid fascination as Jenny began to scream, hand clutching the side of her head, as though she were trying to rip something from her mind.

“No!” Jenny suddenly realized what the voices were whispering. “NO!” Desperately she raced to the shelves lining the walls, pulling down bottles and jars before discarding them carelessly.  Finally she found what she was looking for; twisting the jar open she poured some of the contents onto the counter.  “Match!” she demanded, causing the minions to frantically search, until they finally found a small box of matches.  Jenny ripped the box from the minion’s outstretched hand; striking one she watched the flame dance for a moment before dropping it onto the pile before her.

Chanting softly Jenny’s eye’s glowed with determination until finally, “Repel.”  Jenny smiled as silence washed over her. “Much better.” She smoothed her hair, taking a deep unneeded breath, “Now where was I?  Ahh yes, Daina.” She turned to where she had left the shopkeeper only to find her gone. 

Screaming her frustration Jenny whirled back to her minions, arms spread wide. “Welcome to your new home boys.  Get this place cleaned up and find me some decent furniture for the back.” Stalking forward she pulled Giles’ head up roughly, “Nobody touches this one. I’m not finished with him yet.” 

Jenny ran a finger across his lips softly before pulling him into a hard kiss.  Biting his lips with her blunt teeth, she caused a small amount of blood to fill her mouth as she deepened the kiss.  Pulling away she ran her tongue across his mouth once, lapping up any stray drops of blood.

“Later,” she breathed as she stood slipping into her demon face once more. “Right now, I have a runaway to find.”  Laughing she sped towards the door and out into the night, howling her delight at the hunt to come.

End of the Bloody Line: Chapter 15
by Niamh

[A/N: Thanks to Blue Irish for letting me play in her place.]


He was trussed up, tied by his hands to the bookshelves that were lining the front of the recently seized magic shop, a minion standing guard over him, watching him intently. His arms ached from their captivity and he could feel the skin tearing away every time he moved, shifting to find a comfortable spot. Giles was trying to keep himself conscious, reciting multiplication tables in his head, those being the only things he could actually remember without taxing his already addled and dazed mind. He shifted his feet, trying to use small movements so that it wouldn’t attract the attention of the minions, his best efforts failed and the minion in front of him snarled, before punching him in his side. The blow was hard enough to bruise but not hard enough to break his ribs, something for which Giles was immediately grateful, because he could feel his empty belly cramping in preparation for voiding itself.

The minion, who looked vaguely familiar, hissed at Giles when the dry heaves became too much, saying, “leave it human. Just don’t do anything stupid to get yourself drained before the mistress returns.”

Mistress.

Oh god. Jenny. Was gone.

One simple word summed it all up, the horrors of the last couple days, and the utter despair of the last couple hours. There was no more Jenny Calendar. Never again would he be able to look into her eyes and see amused affection glittering in the dark chocolate depths. Now the thing that stared back at him was darker, less amused and more detached. Affection was gone and nothing but dark violent desires remained. Bloodlust and disdain. Giles groaned, his heart constricting with pain for what had been lost. The possibilities . . . . the what-ifs clamoring in his head. If he’d only trusted, only believed his Slayer and Jenny. If he’d only listened. This mess was all his fault.

He was struck with the sudden chilling fear that no one, not even Willow was going to come rescue him. Not that he wanted any of the others to put themselves even further into harm’s way. No, Willow needed to stay clear of this, in fact both Willow and Xander needed to stay very far away. Closing his eyes in prayer, beseeching his god, any god that would listen, Giles prayed that the teens would stay away and stay safe.

It was the only hope he allowed himself. The hope that the others would all survive this travesty and that someday they would look back on his memory and not see the bumbling idiot he’d allowed himself to become. Remembering instead the man he’d liked to have been: a trusted guide and mentor.


His breathing broke on a soft sob, thankfully soft enough so that his captor made no note of it, dismissing it as a human weakness. There was a noise at the front door, and the minion’s attention shifted briefly forward, long enough for Giles to take better note of his surroundings. He could barely move his head, his arms were tied up and over the top of the bookshelf, pulled up on either side of him, blocking any but forward vision. Only books were stacked behind him and there was nothing but air near his hands. Nothing against which to loosen the ropes.

Sighing again, fighting back tears, Giles grimly waited for the return of the creature that used to be his Jenny.

@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@


Spike walked beside her, watching the stiff set of her shoulders and tried to think of something to say that would calm her nerves. She was nearly running in her haste to rescue the Watcher; Spike knew she was all prepared to go in full bore, without any thought to planning or safety, and that would just get them killed. “Slayer.”

Buffy ignored him, intent on getting to the factory as quickly as possible, unwilling to leave Giles in the hands of Angel and Jenny.

“Slayer.” Spike’s tone got shorter and Buffy finally reacted when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to look at him. Holding her in place, he growled out, “I’m talkin’ to you, little girl. You’d best listen.”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to slug him one, but Spike’s hand tightened on her arm and the look in his eyes was enough to set her back a step. “What is it Spike? We don’t have a whole lot of time here.”

“We have time for this otherwise we won’t make it out of there.” He growled in response, poking a finger in her direction. “You need to listen to me.”

“Make it quick. What is it that’s so damned important right now?” There was a stubborn set look to her cute little face and she looked just like a fierce little tiger cub. It was almost enough to make him soften towards her, but he knew damned well just how sharp this little kitten’s claws were. He also knew how scared she was. He could sense it coming off her in waves and that was the emotion Spike was seeking to control. She needed to lose some of the fear. Fear made you reckless, made you take stupid chances.

“Listen to me, kitten, and listen good. We aren’t going up against two fledges or just any other vamp. This is Angelus and a gypsy vamp. Two things you jus’ don’t wanna face.” Taking a deep breath, hoping she was paying him some attention, Spike said, “We might have to fight our way through some minions as well, before we face either of them. Can’t take the chance of losing each other while we’re fighting. We have to stick close. Not let them get in between us.”
Catching a glimpse of the look on her face, he continued, in a softer tone, “can’t get lost from each other – remember that, yeah? Together we are stronger than they are; just have to stay together. You get that?”

Buffy blew out a breath, refusing to look at him, her eyes shifting off to his left. “I know what I’m doing, Spike, remember? Slayer? One girl in all the world? I can handle this.”

Dropping the axe, Spike grabbed both her shoulders, shaking her a little and forcing her to look up at him. “You don’t know. Yeah, you’re the Slayer, best one I’ve gone up against, but this isn’t what you’ve convinced yourself it might be. Angelus is a right bastard when he wants to be – and even when he’s feelin’ charitable. Which isn’t often at all, he’s not your Angel.“

Her eyes finally met his and she was struck by two things, the anger coupled with concern swirling in the depths of his eyes and the set of his shoulders. She’d only seen him like this on one other occasion and that had been on Halloween, at that precise moment when she came back to herself. Back then the anger was understandable, but it was the concern that had her wigged. Right now it was the other way around.

A shiver ran down her back and Buffy knew that there was more to this than just what he was saying. Before opening her mouth, she thought hard about what he’d just said. “I get you Spike, but really – I know what I’m doing.” She paused a second or two then blurted out, “He’s not my Angel anyway.”

But Spike was shaking his head, his gaze fierce. “No. I don’t think you are gettin’ me. This is not gonna be a walk in the park, little girl. This is Angelus.” Shaking her once more, he said, “an’ not just him. He’s gone and made himself a gypsy vampire. Somethin’ that just isn’t done.”

His tone of voice was like flint shavings against her skin, but something in his demeanor made her pause again and really look at him. There it was again. A different look, something he’d hidden from her until this moment. Searching his eyes again, letting the silence build between them, trying to convey to him wordlessly that she was willing to listen, Buffy saw it again. Spike was afraid. Just what was he afraid of?

“Spike?” Buffy dropped the sword down, letting it clatter to the ground, joining Spike’s hastily dropped axe. “What’s really wrong?”

Sighing loudly, Spike looked away from her, to a point somewhere over her head. He swallowed deeply, preparing to answer her, when she abruptly pulled him down to her lips. “Spike? You know I love you, right?”

Her declaration spurred something, because he looked down into her eyes, his own bright with some emotion she was unwilling to put a name to. Buffy smiled at him, their mouths inches apart and before she could react, he leaned down and stole a fierce kiss. “I love you too, kitten, but I need you to understand something.”
She made a face, and he paused, before looking down again, seeing the flash of disappointment cross her features at his slightly off-hand avowal of love. “Buffy. I love you.”

He waited, watching her emotions flit across her face, and he smiled when she reached up and laced her fingers around his neck. His arms snaked around her and she leaned heavily into his embrace. ‘Now you goin’ to listen to me?”

‘Yeah, I am.” She took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of leather and smoke and whiskey, laced with the other heavier scent that was just him. “Tell me what you want me to know.”

“Gypsies, luv, aren’t supposed to be turned. There’s too much magic in ‘em. ‘S what makes her dangerous. She’ll be able to do stuff we won’t expect.”

Buffy pulled back, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Cool Matrix-y stuff? She’ll be able to jump from building to building?” She pouted, realization dawning, then she showed her age by adding in a softly whining voice, “But I’m all super-strong girl, why can’t I do any of that? I wanna jump around like Trinity! Don’t you think I’d look hot in all that leather?”

His growl cut short any further words and he lifted her up, his mouth on hers, his tongue pushing its way into the warm cavern to mate with hers. Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on, her hands tangled in his hair. His erection was pressed against her sex, aching to enter her, and Spike was lost in her warmth for long moments.

Some sixth sense broke through, pulling his attention away from the vixen in his arms, and Spike had enough time to duck, rolling to the ground with Buffy still in his arms.

@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@

“Buffy?” Willow looked up at the stairs from where she was sitting on the couch to see Joyce teetering on the stairs, confusion mixed with pain on her features.

“Hey, Mrs. Summers. You shouldn’t be up.”

Grabbing onto the railing for support, Joyce forced a smile. “Probably not. I’m not feeling so good. “ Looking around, Joyce asked, “where’s Buffy?”

Willow got up from the couch, moving past the front door to get to Joyce. “C’mon Mrs. Summers, let’s get you back to bed and I’ll explain everything, okay?”

@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@

Jenny stalked through the streets, noises and scents assaulting her heightened senses, drawing her attention away from her prey. Daina was a faint presence ahead of her, the scent of her fear teasing at the roof of Jenny’s mouth, calling forth her razor sharp teeth. Power surged through her, sparks flashing in her eyes as tiny arcs of energy jumped from her fingertips.

When she’d been alive, breathing anyway, she’d sometimes had glimpses, brief flashes of this connection to the source, this power that was now surging recklessly through her. But now, now this was different. She was the power. It was hers to command, to exploit and use as she deemed best.

Daina stumbled and Jenny sped up a tiny bit, drawing out the other woman’s fear. Her nostrils flared, gathering in as much of the other’s emotions and sensations as she could, reveling in the abject terror running through her body. “Daina, oh Daina. I’m coming. Can’t run from me.”

The whimpers of fear reached her ears, causing a soft chuckle to escape from Jenny’s lips. “Silly woman. Don’t fight.”

She thought for a second, chuckling louder, “On second thought, go ahead. Fight me.”

Scrabbling away on her knees, Daina looked up at the deceptive beauty looming over her. “Please Jenny, don’t do this.”

A vicious laugh sounded in the air around them. “Don’t do what? Play with you?”

The grin got wider and Daina realized there was nothing that was going to save her. “No. Can’t do that. I want to play.”

Jenny reached down, and with one hand around the other woman’s neck, lifted her up, holding her off the ground. The grin on the gypsy vampire’s newly pale features widened and her fangs extended, chocolate eyes lightening to glistening amber. “Oh yeah. Now’s a good time to scream.”


@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@


They came to their feet at the end of Spike’s abrupt roll, backs pressed together, watching the small group of vampires circling around them. Most were remnants of the Master’s minions, some had sworn loyalty to Spike after he’d dusted the Anointed One and some hadn’t.

But all of them had groveled to Angelus when he’d appeared with Drusilla at his side.

Aware of his mate pressed against his back Spike counted the numbers against them.

“Think it’s fair?” His tone was conversational, his stance deceptively relaxed.

Buffy, guessing at his game, ticked off the numbers with a shrug. “Dunno.” Then she paused, glancing up at him with innocent eyes. “Gee Spike, if you get all yours, would you help me?”

He laughed gruffly at the helpless little girl voice she was using. “Well, Pet, could maybe see my way to doing that if the reward is sufficient.”

Giggling softly, knowing exactly what she was doing to him, Buffy gasped out, “awww. Spike, you’re soo strong. You’re my hero.”

The vampires surrounding them ranged about seeking any openings in their posture.

“Slayer?”

“Yes Spike?” She could feel his muscles tense and took her cue from his body.

“Ready when you are.”

Sneaking a glance over her shoulder up at him, Buffy smiled into his eyes. Without shifting her eyes away from him, Buffy sucker punched the first vampire on her right, then said, “oops. Guess I’m ready.”

With a noise somewhere between a laugh and a growl, Spike lazily leaned forward into a punch that knocked another vampire on his ass. “Right then.”

Affecting a swagger, Spike grinned widely as he egged them on. “C’mon now, kiddies, step right up.”

Two vampires launched themselves at him and he casually wrenched the first’s arm off, then used it to smack the second in the head.

Buffy was using her slightness and small stature to her advantage, slipping in between the vampires, then staking them as they came at her.

“Someday, Sunshine, I’m goin’ to figure out where in bloody hell you stash those things,” he groused at her, his grin a near leer and the teasing tone he was using sending a shiver down her spine.

Her answering giggle was infectious and she said between punches, “Someday I might let you search.”

He growled again, grinning at the vampires coming at him as they tried to rush him as one. Leaning away from one, Spike threw a left hook that rocked one back so hard he stumbled into another, giving Spike a moment to wrench the head from a third vampire’s shoulders, dusting him instantly.

Buffy, meanwhile, had her hands full as four of them were hemming her in, cutting her off from Spike. She hit one with a flurry of punches and was about to dust it when one of the others grabbed her right arm back, holding her off. Sensing their sudden advantage, two more moved in on her left side, knocking her back, into the arms of yet another vampire. He grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her torso, not making the mistake of lifting her up and allowing her to use her feet to fight them off. Buffy tried kicking up while attempting to wriggle her way out of the vampire’s embrace. The first vampire, the one she’d been whaling on, began raining a series of blows on her face, knocking her senseless.

Spike’s attention was elsewhere, dispatching the vampires as quickly as he could, trying to maneuver them towards the spot where he and Buffy had dropped the axe and sword. He was turned around, his back to where Buffy was being held when a gasped grunt that sounded off caught his attention.

Whirling around, Spike roared his disapproval and anger to the air. A punch came at him from his right, galvanizing him to action. With a swirl of black leather, he turned on the unfortunate vampire that had just thrown the punch. Snapping its neck, but not removing the head, Spike moved onto the next.

“I’m comin’ Sunshine.”

Buffy wasn’t idle, using the distraction of Spike’s absolute fury to lean back into the minion, head-butting him and simultaneously kicking up with her feet, slamming her foot into the face of the vampire beating on her. His head snapped back, and using that also to her advantage, she tried to flip up and over the head of the one holding her. Anticipating her move, he held on tighter, not allowing her any further movement.

Spike’s fierce growl and low menacing tone rang through the night air. “That’s my mate, you fuckin’ wanker. Best let her go. Now.”

The vampire just laughed, running his fangs along the juncture of Buffy’s shoulder and neck. She stilled, watching as Spike’s entire body tensed, preparing to strike.

The rage filling him, consumed him, and a strange transformation took place, his ridges almost smoothing out as only two razor sharp canines extended further, his eyes bleeding from amber to red. Buffy shivered, feeling her own face begin to change, knowing instinctively what was about to happen next wasn’t going to bode well for the unfortunate vampire holding her captive. In the blink of an eye, Spike struck, raking a hand down the side of the vampire’s head, nearly cleaving it in two.

Buffy shifted away, giving Spike more room to work, her hand coming up to stake one of the others faster than she realized.


@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@
The door slammed shut behind her, rattling the windows and nearly causing the rolldown gates to slam shut. Draining Daina hadn’t been nearly as satisfying as she’d thought. The shopkeeper had been so frightened that the moment Jenny sank her fangs into her neck, Daina’s heart had stopped, effectively stealing the kill out from under her. Which just made her temper rise.

Her entrance into the shop galvanized the minions and Giles heard them scurrying about to please their mistress.

There was silence in the shop, leaving Giles to wait, knowing somehow that her first order of business would be to torture him.

His guess proved true when suddenly she was standing in front of him, her fingernails scratching across his face, over his cheekbones. Blood welled along the trails her nails left and Jenny leaned forward, licking over his features, her voice a soft sibilant whisper against his skin. “Miss me Rupert?”

Giles didn’t answer, just gritted his teeth and held his tongue, hoping against hope that she would tire of the game she was planning if he refused to play.

“Oh Rupert. . . the least you can do is pretend.” She licked his face again, tasting the blood and salt on his skin, “tell me you missed me. . tell me you love me.”

She drew back just a little, enough to look deeply into the pain filled eyes of Rupert Giles, “oh Rupert, tell me. . . tell me everything. . . sshhhh. . yes, Rupert. You can’t resist me.”

Raking her nails down his chest, Jenny ripped his shirt to shreds, softly growling and purring as the blood rain in rivulets down his torso.

“Oh Rupert. We are going to have such fun.”

@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@


There was no time to react, no time to assimilate what had just happened – one second she was being held by a small circle of vampires and the next Spike had reacted, annihilating the entire group.

Somehow, he had no idea just how, he’d ended up on his knees, chest heaving, drawing in deep unnecessary breaths. Buffy stood a little away from him, her hands at her mouth, her gasps sounding in time with his.

She was shaking, his display touching a chord deep within her and Buffy didn’t know when the tears had started but they ran down her cheeks in a steady stream. Bowing his head a bit, Spike growled low, almost as though he was trying to soothe her. Neither one of them moved for long moments, until Buffy couldn’t stand it any longer; the need to touch him was immediate and overwhelming, welling up from her depths and choking her with its intensity.

A tiny warm hand reached out, stroking across his face before resting in his curls, letting them wrap around her fingers. Choking back a sob, she held him to her belly, drawing comfort from the strong arms that wrapped around her.

“Spike. . . oh god, Spike.” Her voice trailed off into the night, words completely deserting her. No one had ever – she’d never seen anything like him, the grace in his ferocity, his possessiveness and protectiveness overruling every other emotion. He’d seen the threat to her and just reacted.

Feather-light kisses brushed against the soft skin of her belly as he nuzzled against her. His low rumbling growl set off a series of tremors within her muscles and Buffy collapsed against him.

“You’re mine, little girl. Forever. Mine.”

A heated look accompanied his words and Buffy felt her legs falter. “Protect what’s mine. Never let you go.”

Spike surged to his feet, lifting her up in arms flexing with unearthly strength. Grinning up at the start and gasped surprise from his girl, Spike playfully nipped at her belly. Her hissed gasp ended in his name, a fact that just made his grin widen.

“Did you feel tha’, pet? Did you?”

Breathy from the changes in the last two minutes, she whispered, “felt it. Saw it. My god Spike, what the hell just happened?”

Stooping down to retrieve their discarded weapons, Spike nearly dropped her when he shrugged. “Dunno yet, sweets, but whatever it was seems to be a good thing, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she almost giggled at him, tugging on his ear. “Whatever it was, it was way cool in a scary way.”

“All right then, no more dillydallyin’. Let’s go get the Watcher.”

@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@

The factory was empty. No minions. No vampires at all. No Jenny. No Angelus. No Watcher.

Spike felt nothing inside, neither alive nor undead, but they entered cautiously anyway. Buffy picked her way through the piles of dust, taking note of how many, Spike barely a step behind her. At the twentieth pile, she stopped, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Dusted. Looks like Angelus had himself a right snit.” Walking past her, he headed right for the room he and Drusilla had shared, uncertain if Angelus had been willing to use it or not.

Buffy’s hand on his arm stopped him, and he was about to snap at her when he saw what had caused her to halt his progress.

Barely visible in the darkness was a softly shimmering light, surrounding a pale ethereal figure. She gasped as the pale form of Drusilla wavered and flickered, trying, it seemed, almost desperately to gain some solidity.

“Daddy’s gone, floated away. . . “ A soft sob seemed to echo through them and the vision was gone, only the disembodied voice remaining. “He’s left on his own journey, will walk no more. . . .”

A soft touch kissed across both their foreheads – a sigh of a touch, a whispered blessing. “His story is done. Angelus reigns no more, brought low by his own creation.”

One more touch, soft as down, brushing over their lips and Drusilla’s voice came from behind them now. “His story is done, yours but barely begun. . . long days ahead once the danger is past. . . . sunshine dawns in the east, coming ‘ere soon. . . what shall you do with the light?”

“Gypsy ones. . . grant wishes. Choose it wisely. . . “ then another, breathy sigh before a quietly murmured, “You are glowing William. . .”

Drusilla’s form flickered into view again and the faint track of tears could be seen on her face.

“My Angel is gone. . . and the Ripper is waking. . . . needs rescuing. Look for him in the place the gypsy knows well.” She paused, looking toward Buffy, “she’ll turn him ‘lest you stop her. . . . she wants a mate. . . and Ripper will be one.”

“Dru?” Spike’s voice was gentle, his hand clutching Buffy’s hard, “Princess, tell us where she’s gone.”

“Nasty shop. All sorts of musty smelly things.” Waving them off, Dru said softly, “Go now. Keep safe.”

Fading away, her touch brushing one last time across both their faces, Drusilla’s spirit placed a kiss against Buffy’s brow, her voice gently reminding her to choose the gypsy gift wisely.

@~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~@

Giles was bleeding, cuts and slashes adorning his chest and abdomen, his trousers in tatters, held onto him only by his belt. Jenny smiled as his head slumped forward wearily, certain he was broken.

“Tell me now, Rupert, how much you love me.”

She waited, expecting his surrender, relishing it. Slowly he lifted his head, angry defiance glistening in his barely-opened eyes. “You are not the woman I miss. She’s gone. You’re just the demon that stole her body.”

Shocked at his defiance, Jenny raked her nails down his face to his chest, digging in hard. She was about to open a vein when a loud commotion sounded at the front wall; a loud roar filling the air and a large dark object crashed through the window, destroying the front wall of the shop.

The car, for that was what had careened into the building, crashed into the bookshelves, knocking Ruper completely free and throwing Jenny against the rear wall.

Looking up from her position slumped against the wall, Jenny watched as two figures appeared on the hood of the vehicle as flames licked along the sides.

A low English voice sounded in the air, his low chuckle raising the hackles on her neck.

“We came for the Watcher.”


Chapter 16

By Schehrezade

Many Many Thanks to Megan for her betaing

Italics - thoughts

“Well, well, well. Looks like someone has been a very naughty girl,” Spike drawled as he jumped off the bonnet of the now destroyed Desoto, his duster flying up dramatically. He landed on the fallen debris with a thump, his Doc Martins sending up a puff of dust as he gave his girl a mournful pat of farewell. He’d wanted to hotwire a car and nick it, but one look at the expression on the Slayer’s face had put paid to that idea. Instead he had whimpered slightly over the death of his trusted steed and then bravely reminded himself of the fun he and Dru had had in the 1980s, in London, ram-raiding shops up and down the Kings Road. Cranking the volume up on the radio, he howled at the top of his lungs and aimed for the magic shop.

Jenny vamped out while running towards her captive and stepped in front of Giles’s battered and torn form, almost protectively. She eyed the eldest of her line with contempt; he was a freak now, an aberration of vampiric nature. “You reek of the Slayer, insipid whiney little thing that she is.” Her lip curled in disgust. “God, how could you screw her of all things?” Jenny’s face was a mask of malice and cruelty.

“Extinguish,” she muttered almost instinctively, instantly dowsing the flames that licked around the sides of the Desoto.

“Hey, rude much,” Buffy exclaimed as she stared anxiously over at Giles, trying to see if he was alive. Despite his attempt at betraying her with Dalton, she still cared, just maybe not as much as before. But she did cared. Buffy eyed the leather-clad body of her former teacher. “Scheesh! Dominatrix wannabe, ” she sneered.

“Yeah, wot of it? Could say you reek of Peaches, but I’m too much of gent to do that—” Spike’s glittering eyes widened in mock surprise. “Oh no, I said it…gonna smack me, bitch?” He curled his tongue against the back of his teeth and his face fell into the familiar lines of his smirk. “Bet you were right disappointed with the shag tho’, weren’t you? Peaches was never one for stamina. Hell, from what Dru screamed in my ear over and over, size really does count.” Spike tilted his head and shot a smug look at Jenny, his thumbs looped in the waistband of his jeans, his lean fingers framing the large bulge with a cocky smirk painted on his lips.

“Hardly. Wouldn’t want to touch you, traitor!” she snarled around her fangs; her amber eyes were shot through with black lines. The untamed power coursing within her voluptuous frame was almost tangible. Behind her Giles shifted restlessly; he could feel the magicks pouring off the demon that wore his lost love’s face. It was calling to a part of him he had long since thought suppressed under the piles of tweed that he had consciously coated himself in a vain attempt to forget his past. He’d been defiant earlier, but blood loss, sorrow and the lure of dark magicks was starting to wear him down. It would be so easy to give in to her. To lose himself in her and her wickedness. It just sang to his long suppressed desires.

Jenny’s eyes darted to the back of the shop.

Spike took a step forward, “Now none of that, missy. We’re here to have a nice bit of a rough and tumble, save that git behind you and rip your head off.”

He’d misinterpreted her look. Spike moved fluidly forward, seemingly oblivious of the fledgings that were appearing at the smashed storefront. The master vampire knew his mate had his back, something he’d never experienced before in his unlife and he had to admit he liked it.

“As if you could scare me into running, you foul aberration,” Jenny spat, her contempt and disgust for him pouring off her. She rubbed her hands together and began to mutter under her breath in Romany. Giles began to twist against his bonds as he recognised the words.

Buffy growled at the vampiress, her eyes turning a deep crimson. Her fury at the insults being thrown at her mate filled her. It made her fingers and toes tingle in anticipation of the ass kicking her erstwhile teacher was going to get. What shreds of sorrow that had lingered in her heart over the techo-pagan’s demise were gone with one look at the bloodied form of her Watcher.

There was a clatter of broken glass as one of the vampires tried to sneak up on her. Buffy whirled and fired an arrow unerringly into her would be attacker’s heart. “One down…” she quipped as she fired and then reloaded the bow within seconds, her newly amplified strength causing her hands to move in a blur. For about thirty seconds all that could be hear was a whoosh and a thud as the arrows found their homes in the dead hearts of Jenny’s troops.

“That’s enough,” Jenny howled and slowly began to rise up into the air, scarlet ribbons of electricity crackling at her fingertips. With each arrow her position of power was diminished and the former techno-pagan was still waiting for her surprise package to be delivered.

“Spike, I told you she’d do matrixy stuff. No fair. I want to do that,” Buffy shouted over the wind that Jenny’s power had unleashed. She teasingly stuck her lower lip out in her infamous pout; one that she knew brought Spike to his knees.

“Holy Hell…” Spike yelped and dodged the bolt of magic that the now incensed vampiress fired at him. He slammed into the wall with a grunt and watched in dismay as the bolt fired a hole through the hood of his now defunct baby. “Right, you sodding bint. That takes the biscuit.” He roared and with a feral grin, lunged straight at the whirling figure of the latest addition to the family. Only to stop mid stride, he froze in his tracks and then growled at the sight of Giles’s face as it twisted into an ugly smile.

‘Dru was right… Ripper’s coming out to play’. He’d wanted to spare Buffy this, but now it was too late. On the drive over Buffy had filled him in on her Watcher’s colourful past and despite himself he had been impressed with the stuffed shirt. Shades of the Ripper had been evident when his girl’s Watcher had tried to off him earlier on.

He hadn’t appreciated just how much of a threat that persona was. Until now.

*********

The house on Revello drive was silent, it’s owner fast asleep and healing. Down the hallway lay Kendra. She was curled up on her side, a twisted stake held loosely in one hand as she lay there staring at the wall. Even injured and exhausted the Slayer’s training was still firmly in place.

Kendra pressed her fingers over the covered wound on her throat and tried not to scream aloud. She focused on her old exercises and began to do deep breathing exercises to calm her nerves. She’d gotten complacent, being around the blond vampire, and had let her guard lapse. Now she was marked by one of the beasts and she was shamed.

So caught up in her misery, Kendra didn’t hear the anxious whispered voices coming from downstairs, or the back door clicking shut.

********

Buffy grunted as her opponent’s claws managed to catch her on the forearm as they fought. She had been battling for what seemed like hours. The fact was it was only minutes, but she was tired. She wanted to curl up with Spike and sleep for days, safe in his embrace. She also wanted to check on her mom and Kendra. The last thing she wanted to be doing was fighting for her life and staging yet another rescue of one of her friends. Despite fighting furiously with vampires—her attention focused on dusting and moving onto the next one—she was very aware of her mate and the battle he fought. Buffy was aching to help, but knew that she had to deal with the flunkies before kicking Jenny’s ass up and down Main Street. ‘What the hell had Angelus been thinking?’

Without breaking her stride, she flipped onto her hands and the pushed off, sailing over the head of one of the remaining vamps and staking him through the back as she landed. The howling minion crumbled to ash in front of her and Buffy smiled. Turning to leap through the remains of the shop front, Buffy was intent on drawing the fight out of the cramped space and onto Main Street. She needed room to manoeuvre and also wanted to give Spike as much ground as he needed to engage the supercharged magical vampiress. Her ploy succeeded and the remaining vampires followed her out with shouts of glee. All of them intent on bagging their first Slayer and none of them realising the trap they were running into, the six vampires slid to a halt and stared around in confusion.

The street was deserted.

Buffy held her breath as she balanced precariously on the windowsill of the apartment above the shop, pressing her palms flat against the window frame to balance herself. She reached for the second crossbow hooked over her shoulder and fired off two shots. The intent Slayer knew she had to make each shot count; surprise was the only element in her favour, and if she could cull two more vamps from the herd then it brought her opponents into manageable proportions.

Grimly ignoring the sounds of magical battle in the shop and the grunts of pain from her mate, Buffy watched the two largest vamps dust in seconds. Tossing the crossbow at the head of one of the remaining minions she leapt down from her perch, landing with a thud on the sidewalk. Two stakes dropped from her coat sleeves into her waiting hands and she launched herself at the vamps. Buffy took a deep breath and began to kick and punch at them, her limbs moving so fast that even the far superior eyesight of her opponents failed to see them.

*****

“Come on, if you think you’re ‘ard enough,” Spike bellowed as he dodged another bolt of lightening that sprang from Jenny’s clawed hands. He was hoping that all the magic she was lobbing at him would soon drain her of juice then he could go in for the kill. Flipping backwards to avoid yet another ball of flames that she’d conjured and thrown at his head, Spike landed on his back. He rolled onto his side to avoid the next bolt of lightening Jenny fired at him. He was really starting to get bored with this. ‘Whatever happened to fists and fangs? Now it’s chargrilled Spike with a side order of dead Desoto?’ he thought grumpily.

Spike’s shoulders jerked and he fell forward as one of her fireballs caught him square between them; he rolled quickly to put out the fire. “Oi, watch the duster you rancid bitch!” He leapt to his feet with a roar and spun to face the surprising tableau of the Watcher staggering over to his captor, his ragged trousers revealing more than the vampire had ever wanted to know about the git.

“Jenny luv, come ‘ere and give us a snuggle.”

Momentarily distracted, Jenny looked over at Giles, her face filled with confusion at the rough sounding accent that was coming out of his mouth, his cultured clipped tones long gone as he finally let Ripper out to play. “Giles?” she breathed.

The blood soaked man chuckled harshly. “Hardly luv. Let’s just say that the tea drinking pansy decided to give up and I’ve come out to play.”

“Ripper.” Spike’s cold tones cut across the stunned silence that had followed Giles’s announcement.

“Yeah mate.” Ripper gave him a smarmy smile as he limped closer to the turned gypsy, intent on rejoining his lost love.

“Oh balls.” Spike gathered his strength and readied for attack. But then froze and watched in disgust as Jenny pulled the man into her cold embrace and began to run her soft pink tongue along a cut she’d left on his cheek earlier. She began to salaciously clean the blood off Ripper’s face, purrs erupting from her throat. One slender pale hand slide down between their embracing bodies and began to massage Ripper’s cock.

“Nice moves, ducks, but let’s get rid of the trash before I shag the stuffing out of you,” Ripper crooned as he rocked his hips against hers in an hypnotic motion, promising her pleasures of what was to come. Giving her a taste of what she craved, he dipped his head and caught her lips in a deep kiss. His tongue deftly avoiding her fangs and toyed with hers, dipping in and out of her mouth in a leisurely pace. The actions mimicking the movements of his hips against her mound. A groan of sheer pleasure escaped from Jenny. Spike grimaced at the scents of arousal that flooded the decimated magic shop.

Spike glanced over his shoulder, checking that Buffy was busy and couldn’t see her Watcher’s fall from grace and descent into the arms of the demon that inhabited Jenny’s body. He allowed himself a second of pride as he watched her tiny form moving faultlessly in battle, each movement an art form. His distraction made him miss the subtle movement of Ripper’s free hand.

“Oh Ripper, we’re going to have sooo much fun. The Hellmouth will be our playground,” Jenny whispered against his lips, her evil eyes offering him so many promises of wickedness that he nearly faltered in his path.

“Sounds lovely, Jenny Wren. Pity I can’t let you play.” With that Giles rammed the piece of wood he’d managed to grab from the debris into her chest. “I’m so sorry, Jenny my love.” Tears filled his eyes and Giles sagged backwards, the last of his energy spent on killing his fallen sweetheart. He staggered slightly, the anguish of loss overwhelming his entire being; all he wanted to do was curl up and die. To weep and rail at the gods for the hand that had been dealt him and Jenny. He wanted to crawl into a bottle of whiskey and never come out.

“Ow…” Jenny whimpered. She stared down at the shard of wood in her body. Rage filled her, she’d been had and she’d fallen for his act. “You bastard, this hurts.” She glared over at the slumped form of Giles, malevolence in every line of her being. She teetered slightly on her high heels; one hand tracing around the edges of the wound. Pulling her hand away, Jenny stared at the blood on her fingertips. “What is it about the men who screw me wanting to make me bleed and die?” she asked rhetorically as the pain from the stake made her face even more ashen. Jenny’s black shot golden eyes filled with ire and her full red lips curled into a sneer. The promise of unenduring pain in her eyes, the vampiress raised her hands.

Giles realised his charade had failed on a monumental level and took his lumps like the soldier he was. He watched dispassionately as an arc of electrical fire from her clawed hands shot towards his torso. His last conscious thoughts were of relief that he’d not been turned by his former love. Instead, he could die and his soul would remain unsullied by the evil of the vampire’s lure.

“And stay down,” Jenny roared as she kicked Giles in the ribs. His body slid towards the backdoor and halted.

“Giles?” Spike concentrated on the slumped form and then allowed a sliver of relief to fill him. He could sense the man’s heartbeat-- it was faint but steady. He was down for the count but had at least managed to hurt the bitch. Spike eyed the stake that was protruding from Jenny’s chest with a satisfied smile.

“That bastard,” she exclaimed. Her back arched backwards as if to avoid the piece of wood that Giles had tried to stake her with. It had caught against her ribs and in his weakened state, he’d missed the heart. “I’ll kill him, then wait till he rises and torture him over and over for this,” she promised in an angry tone. She punctuated each word with a petulant kick to the wall. Gingerly, Jenny clasped the improvised stake and eased it out of her torso, swiftly tossing it away as if it were soaked in holy water. She clamped her hand to the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. Her beautiful face was a mask of pain as she paled even more.

Spike took advantage of her momentary weakness and launched himself at her black clad form. Fangs bared and hands fisted he attacked. No quarter given, he beat her face over and over, swiftly changing it from the beautiful mask that she wore to conceal the evil beneath to a mashed bloody pulp. He reached up with one hand caught her by the throat, triumph filling his entire being, erroneously thinking that the new balance Dru had referred to had matched his strength to hers. His hand hovered over her dead heart, ready to rip it out.

“Time to die, bitch,” he hissed, spittle escaping around his fangs and hitting Jenny in the face once more for pure pleasure.

“Don’t think so, Willie.” To his utter shock, her face began to shift and heal in seconds. Stunned by the quick healing, he was caught unawares by her knee. She drove it upwards like a pile driver and slammed it into his unprotected crotch.

Spike dropped to his knees with a whimper, his hands cupping his groin as he stared up through watering blue eyes at the triumphant Jenny. Her face was healed, her lush pale beauty returned in moments, the combination of vampire and gypsy magic making her a formidable foe.

“Buffy,” he wheezed.

Jenny smoothed her hair back from her face with a giggle. “You seriously think I can be killed by the likes of you?”

Spike opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the shriek that erupted from his opponent. “Ahhh, there you are! I’ve been waiting for you. What took you so long?” Jenny demanded crisply as she stared in the direction of the back door. “Now the fun can really begin,” she giggled, the sound incongruous in the situation they were all in.

In the background he could hear Buffy fighting and quipping her way to victory, but his attention was focused on Jenny. He needed to regroup; he had to kill her before she got to Buffy. Staggering to his feet, ignoring the lances of pain radiating from his groin, Spike braced himself for another fight.

“Hey, don’t even try it buster.” Jenny pointed at Spike and frowned angrily. “You’re spoiling my surprise for the Slayer.” She let lose another bolt of magic and Spike twisted his body out of the way and watched dispassionately as it set fire to one of the few remaining bookshelves.

There was a faint scuffling noise that he barely picked up over the sounds of Buffy’s battle and the crackle of flames. Spike ignored it and focused instead on the demented vampiress. He really hated his grandsire for creating such an abomination. It was bad enough what Peaches had done to Dru before and after turning her. But this was beyond the pale, turning a gypsy; despite all the warnings Bat face had given the entire family.

Running towards Jenny, Spike jolted to a halt pausing mid swing, surprised at the sudden change in his opponent. She’d gone from blasting him into next week to stillness. The malicious glee in her gleaming eyes gave him pause. He took a cautious look around the now destroyed shop and his eyes widened at the sight of the two figures that were dimly lit with moonlight.

They stood still framed in the now shattered backdoor, a tragic tableau. “Not good,” he muttered. Spike shifted and began to move towards the two figures, intent of saving at least one. He knew without a shadow of doubt that this would break his mate; he had to at least save one, salvage something from the mess that the bint cackling behind him had created.

He leapt over Giles’s unconscious form without even a downward glance. All his attention was focused on the fluttering heartbeat of the girl clawing at the arm of her captor.

“You turned him? Why on earth would you turn the whelp?” Spike stared aghast at the sight of the newest member of the Aurelius clan. “This won’t do at all. How could you dilute our bloodline with that?” He jerked his thumb at the now seething fledgling. “Pathetic…”

“Excellent. You found her. Bring her to me, boy,” Jenny ordered, ignoring Spike’s demands. Her fingers flexed in anticipation. She’d revised her initial plan of turning the girl. Instead, she was going to use her as a battery to amp up her power.

Spike’s shoulders slumped as he heard Buffy clamber back into the shop.

“Xander, no…” Buffy whispered her eyes filling with tears. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry…” she gasped. The diminutive blonde stood there, horror etching deep lines down the sides of her mouth. She had aged a century in seconds. The stricken Slayer stumbled against the Desoto, caught from behind by the single remaining vampire she’d been fighting. Elbowing him off without a backward glance, Buffy straightened and whirled, efficiently staking the falling vampire with a sob. The ache of pain that filled her chest was overwhelming her. ‘Xander was a vamp. It was her fault. If they hadn’t fought over Spike then he’d have been around and she could’ve protected him.’

Xander’s lopsided grin was distorted around his fangs, a mockery of his usually gentle smile. He pressed his fingers tighter into Willow’s throat, making very sure that she couldn’t say a word. His sire had warned him that he had to keep Willow from spell casting. Xander gazed in sycophantic adoration at the face of his salvation and initiation into the darkness. “Mistress.” He bobbed his head as his tongue darted out to lick at his fangs, a nervous habit that was starting to irritate Jenny.

“ ‘ike…” Willow choked out, her face turning purple from the lack of oxygen. She shook like a leaf, terrified out of her wits. Her Xander-shaped friend had tricked her out of the Summers’ house. Not realising that he was a vampire, she’d been so excited to see him and leapt at the chance to talk as he asked her. He’d offered what she realised now to be false promises of re-igniting his friendship with Buffy, but when she’d stepped over the threshold, Xander had vamped out and grabbed her. He’d been too fast and too strong. She’d struggled all the way here, tears pouring down her face at the awful words he’d spat at her. Mocking her innocence, looks and telling her that even when he’d been alive he’d thought she was a loser. Each vitriolic word broke her a little more as he continued to belittle her and inform her of the pain Jenny was going to inflict on her scrawny assed body.

“Wills, no.” Buffy took a step towards her, then froze in place at the sight of Xander’s fangs scraping over the pale freckled skin on Willow’s throat. Buffy stared hopelessly at Willow, their eyes silently communicating their despair over the new events.

“Boy, bring her to me and stop toying with her,” Jenny ordered with a snap of her fingers.

“Whelp, don’t you frigging well move an inch or I’ll tear off your head with my bare hands,” Spike warned. He could sense Buffy’s distress over her friend’s predicaments-- one lost to the darkness and the other in pain and terrified. He had started to develop a soft spot for Red, but the boy had caused no end of grief for his mate and to be honest, he really didn’t feel anything but satisfaction that he’d been vamped. Now he could kill the sod and not have to explain himself to the Slayer. He’d hurt her over and over and now it was payback time. Spike mentally rubbed his hands together, ready to tan the twitching fledge’s hide.

“Xander, if you ever want to see me naked again, you will bring that pathetic geek over here to me now,” Jenny ordered.

Spike, Buffy and Willow all blanched at the mental images of Xander’s turned teacher seducing him.

“I am, mistress—” The newly turned vampire lisped around his fangs and slowly began to sidle towards his sire, the one who had intitated him into the sexual frenzy of vampiric sex and then sank her fangs into his willing throat and drained him dry as she rode him into submission.

When he’d first seen her in the Bronze the other night, all dressed up in any male teen’s wet dream-- black leather and stilettos, with her breasts thrust upwards by a corset — he hadn’t even questioned why. He’d let her seduce him without any attempt to stop her. She’d fulfilled all his fantasies in that torrid night of sexual debauchery. Now he was stronger and more powerful than he’d ever been and more importantly, he wasn’t a loser anymore.

His hormones and dick had led him to his death.

“Good boy,” Jenny crooned; she swayed again on her feet. The wound in her chest was nearly healed, but, the magical fight had drastically weakened her and her body was working overtime to heal itself. She needed Willow’s power to rejuvenate herself. She could almost taste the sweetness of her powerful and virginal blood. Willow’s power was untapped and unused, simmering under the surface of her strawberry sweetness. Just waiting to be corrupted and used to achieve her control over the Hellmouth and the death of the Slayer and her mate. “You’ll get an extra special treat tonight. I’ll let you be on top, maybe even let you have a nibbled,” she added lasciviously, knowing that her words would sicken the Slayer and give her a slight advantage.

Xander gulped. The whispered promise of more sex made him shake. He ground his erection into Willow’s soft backside, desperate for any friction. Once he’d become a vampire, she’d played with his willing body for hours, bringing him to heights of pleasure he had no idea existed before handing him over to the minions to play with. A small part of him had secretly enjoyed the attentions of the male vampires, allowing himself to be dominated by them all and then in turn dominating them. He’d had no idea that when you became a vampire sex with both males and females was just plain fun, and he wanted more of it all. If it meant turning Willow over to be vamped, then so be it. At least he’d get laid again, something he’d been positive as a human would never happen to him. He would do anything to slide in between Jenny’s juicy thighs again, anything.

“No!” Buffy shrieked and launched herself at Jenny, only to be driven back by a wave of magic. She flew backwards and was caught by Spike. Turning her head, Buffy called out to Xander, trying to reason with him. “Xander, please don’t do this…its Willow. You’ve been best friends since kindergarten…don’t, please,” she begged futilely as Xander ignored her and moved towards the monster that had killed him.

“You okay?” Spike hissed. Having been on the receiving end of Jenny’s magics he was worried that Buffy had been injured.

“Okay?” Buffy’s voice pitched high in surprise. “Does this look okay? Giles all squished and bleeding, Xander a vamp and Willow—” She trailed off with a sob.

“Right, sorry pet. You ready?” Spike brushed his lips over her temple and then set her onto her feet.

“Yeah,” Buffy growled back at him. She turned her tear filled eyes at him in gratitude. Revenge filled her heart; she was determined to stake Jenny for what she’d done to Giles and Xander, if it was the last thing she did.

“Three…two…one…”

With that, both of them launched themselves at Xander and Willow, Buffy pausing momentarily to grab Giles’s slumped form and toss him out of the smashed window onto the street. She tried to ignore the twinge of guilt at the pain she was inflicting on him, focussing instead on saving him. She knew that they could fix a few bruises later, but if they left him on the shop floor then Giles would die in the ensuing battle.

Xander’s betraying arms were empty. In their momentary distraction the brunette vampire had thrown Willow at Jenny and then turned to face them with a malicious smile.

“Good, fledge,” Jenny cackled. Her hands cupped Willow’s face as the redhead struggled fruitlessly, the strength of her former computer teacher being too much for her.

“Please…no…” the terrified redhead begged as Jenny dug her sharp fingernails into her face. Thin lines of blood trickled down Willow’s quivering cheeks, painting her skin in scarlet trails. Her sneakered feet kicked pathetically in the air as she dangled from the vampire’s hands, her thin hands clamped on Jenny’s wrists trying to pry herself loose.

To no avail.

“Oh yes,” Jenny retorted and then slowly began to drain the untapped magics out of her erstwhile pupil. She flicked her eyes from Xander to the door, silently communicating her orders too him.

Xander flew backwards and escaped out of the rear door, running into the night, following the silent command of his sire. He was pursued closely by a very determined Buffy, stake in had and heart in her throat. She didn’t want to do this, stake a friend, even if he had been a schmuck to her recently. But she would. Xander was gone and in his goofy place was a vampire with no soul, no conscience and no remorse for his actions. The intent Slayer was unaware that she’d fallen for his trick and left Spike alone to face Jenny, in danger and without backup.

Spike slammed into an invisible wall, and pressed his hands against the protection barrier that Jenny had erected around her and Willow’s slowly weakening form. “Come on…this is cheating. Lemme in,” he entreated, his focus on Red and her slowing heartbeat. It fluttered against her ribcage like a trapped bird, erratic in its diminishing strength.

“Naaah, not yet. Where’s the fun in that?” Jenny taunted from the safety of her protection spell, her strength growing as Willow’s waned. Not only was Jenny drawing on her magics, but also her life-force, and it was revitalizing the vampire. Infusing her with more power and strength than was imaginable. She was becoming more than a vampire with gypsy magicks, she was becoming a formidable strength to be reckoned with. Soon no one would be able to stop her.

“Bollocks.” Spike’s fingers clawed at the barrier and he pressed against it in despair. “Red luv, fight her. Don’t let her do this to you. You’re stronger than her, better than her, a real tough bird…come on,” he cajoled, his focus on the scrap of a teenager whose eyes were turning milky. Her eyelids were drifting shut as Jenny’s magical vampirism pulled the last of her essence from her.

Spike cocked his head and listened to Willow’s faltering heartbeat with growing dismay.

He’d failed Red and worst of all, he’d failed Buffy.

His mind veered away from the worries that had infused it on first sighting Xander with Willow trapped in his embrace. He was worried sick about Joyce and to a lesser extent the robo-Slayer they’d left at home healing and recovering, supposedly watched over by the girl now struggling to keep her heart beating. What scene of devastation would greet them on their return to Revello Drive?

“Spike, I can’t—” Willow whispered weakly. “Too strong—”

Thud…

Thud…

Thud…

Thud…

 

 THE FINAL CHAPTER!!

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