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Chapter 3

The faint whistle was loud enough for Spike to hear yet not attract the attention of others. Vampiric hearing was a useful gift sometimes. Grabbing the Slayer’s hand, he hauled her after him.

“Come on, luv. Time to go.”

She didn’t bother to correct his forwardness; the thought of a warm bed – even if it was in some seaside tavern – stilled any retort she might have made. She attempted to shake off his hold and just follow behind meekly, but his hand just tightened harder around hers.

“Stay close, pet. Lotsa’ things that go bump in the night are about. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, now would we?”

Her eyes widened at his casually spoken words, and the vigorous shake of her head confirmed that… no, she didn’t want to be some monster’s next meal. It was bad enough she was stuck with this one…although, better the one you know, right?

Spike pulled her after him, quickly making their way to the end of the alley. He peeked his head out, scanning the street for any sign that someone might be paying them the slightest bit of attention. The few stragglers meandering down the street were either too drunk or too busy engaging in chatter to pay them any notice.

Gripping her hand a little tighter in his, Spike practically dragged her as they raced down the street before dipping into the next alley that led to the back entrance of the tavern. He could hear the Slayer as she stumble along behind him, gasping at the slight pain of his grip as he held her hand in his.

“What took you so long?” Doyle whispered as the two closed in on him. Spike just gave him a pointed look.

“Trying not to draw attention here, mate.”

Doyle nodded and stepped back, allowing Spike and Buffy to slip upstairs unnoticed by the tavern patrons.

“First door on the right. It’s already open,” he whispered as they passed him, his eyes scanning over the occupants of the tavern.

Spike hurried up the stairs pulling a frazzled Slayer behind him. She tripped over her skirts and would have nose-dived into the stairs if he hadn’t yanked her upright. Slowing his speed now that they were before the room, he walked at a more leisurely pace, allowing her to recover from her near mishap. He stepped through the opened doorway, releasing his grip on her hand once he had pulled her in the room after him.

He watched, arms akimbo, as she sank gratefully onto the bed, her head bowed indicating her weariness.

“Listen, pet. I mean it… Don’t open the door for anyone. My little bite mark will keep the vam…er, the monsters away for now. But, there’s more out there in that tavern than demons. The lot of them are pissed right now, and a pretty li’l thing like you would be seen as a right nice treat.”

Her eyes grew huge as saucers at him speaking so frankly to her, but right now, that was the least of his crimes against her person. She just nodded at him, assuring him that she wouldn’t open the door for anyone. He nodded once and turned to leave.

Her fear got the better of her and she whispered softly, “You will be returning for me?”

He halted, one hand on the door, and turned back to her. Wide luminous eyes gazed back at him. He was jolted by the protective feelings he was suddenly feeling towards her, the bloody Slayer. And, he hadn’t even claimed her yet.

Claiming.

Blood.

Calling.

He removed his hand from the door and strode quickly to her. Reaching down, he grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly to her feet to slam flush against his hard body. Her open-mouthed gasp was just the opportunity he need to plunge his tongue into her mouth, possessing her.

Her body was unmoving against his, but as his tongue swept masterfully within her mouth, her body relaxed and leaned into his. A soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips, captured within his mouth. He broke the kiss - sensing that she needed oxygen - to trail his lips down her jaw. Her head fell back to expose the smooth column of her throat.

His eyes zeroed in on his mark and he was powerless to do anything but take a little taste. Just a small one. He’d wait to claim her until he got back. It would be an experience neither was likely to ever forget. For now, a little taste to tide him over…

Blunt teeth nibbled down her neck to hover over where he had bitten her. Holding her body close, he allowed his face to shift, his canines to elongate. A shocked gasp escaped her lips as his fangs slid into her neck, slowly piercing her delicate flesh.

‘It doesn’t hurt,’ she thought vaguely as he began to suck her blood into her mouth.

Again, faint stirrings of some unknown emotion filled her body and she found herself desperately trying to press her body closer to his. At any other time she would have been shocked by her scandalous behavior, but right now, this monster - this demon - was making her feel so good…so alive.

“Yesssss….” she moaned as he pulled her closer. His fangs had slipped out of her neck and now he was just sucking. Then she felt his tongue gliding over the fresh marks he had just made. His slightly rough tongue caused gooseflesh to erupt along her arms, while a gentle throb persisted in her womb.

He’d never felt reluctance as a vampire before, and Spike was loath to admit to the emotion now. But, as he pulled away from the Slayer’s warm, willing, and aroused body; he wanted nothing more that to tell Doyle to go by himself so that he could spend the rest of the night getting acquainted with the Slayer.

Pushing her to arm’s length, he waited until she lifted her head and opened her eyes. The dazed expression she wore tempted his demon to say the hell with it… claim her now. With a growl, he shoved her lax body down onto the bed with a command for her to stay put.

She just nodded at him, too befuddled to say anything about his abrupt manner with her.

Twirling around at the inviting picture she made sprawled on the bed, he left the room, the tails of his duster billowing behind him. He pulled the door shut as he left, his confusion over his recent “less-than-demon-like” feelings reducing him to slamming it in a childish pout. Using the key Doyle had given him on the way up the stairs, he locked her inside. Spike rushed down the stairs and passed a protesting Doyle, who took one look at his blood-smeared face and said nothing.

The two strode off into the night, eager to get the necessary details taken care of so that he and Buffy could begin to move around without fear of discovery.

~*~*~*~*~

Their first stop was a tailor. Spike and Doyle stood out like a sore thumb in the clothes they were currently wearing. Spike spotted the shop first and made his way to the back of the building. Grabbing the wrought-iron door latch, he broke it, allowing the two to slip inside.

They were both grateful the tailor had some items out on display. It also looked like they had just finished making a wardrobe for an English lord. Many different outfits for all occasions were wrapped and folded in a chest and waiting apparent delivery in the morning.

“Oh, bloody hell! Just stake me now and get it over with,” he moaned upon retrieving a pair of breeches from the chest. He eyed the poncey breeches and a shudder of revulsion gripped his body. “They better bloody well find a solution to this problem quick. I refuse to wear this stuff forever. I’ve been there, done that…thank you very much!”

“Just put it on and shut up, Spike,” Doyle replied, suppressing his own abhorrence for the clothes held in his hands. ‘At least I’m only stuck in this stuff for a little while.’ The thought cheered him somewhat.

Spike slipped off his duster, followed by the red button-down shirt and black t-shirt that made up his trademark wardrobe. Eyeing the clothes laid out before him with disgust, he quickly slipped out of his shoes and shed the black jeans that molded his legs like a second skin. Naked, he grabbed the white, silk stocking first – remembering from his human days, it was easier to slip those on before pulling on his trousers.

Beside him, Doyle quickly disrobed and began pulling on the awkward garb, following Spike’s example since he was completely clueless at to how all these pieces came together.

Next, Spike grabbed the gray and yellow pinstriped knee breeches and pulled them on. He almost changed his mind about the clothes when he spied the white silk shirt he needed to wear. Holding it before him, he took in the flowing material, the stitches that leaned a little towards the feminine side. Soft curses filled the room as he jammed his arms into the shirt and started buttoning it up. He didn’t even bother to grumble – knowing it was useless, and besides, who wasremembering there to hear him besides Doyle – as he slipped the soft pink vest on.

Doyle looked up as he grabbed his own matching vest. Spike caught his stare and narrowed his eyes at the half demon.

“One word and I’ll bite you,” he ground out. He knew he looked like the nancy-boy he was always calling Angel and regretted that he was unable to see his reflection in the mirror.

Both men stood dressed in their stocking feet and glanced around the shop.

“Damn. I forgot.” Doyle looked at Spike inquiringly. “Different shop for shoes.” He strode off towards the front of the store mumbling, “In my human days, one was usually… Ah hah!”

Doyle came to stand beside him as they looked out the front window. Spike was pointing across the street.

“Shoe shop.”

They gathered their things and left the shop, looking for any signs of activity before they rushed across the street in their stocking feet towards their destination. Again, Spike broke the door latch and they slipped inside. Their stockings were ruined, although neither man cared. Doyle wasn’t planning on being there much longer, and Spike just needed the clothes so he could move around for the night. Once he was settled, he’d have a better wardrobe made for him – one that didn’t have such nancy-boy colors.

Spike just rolled his eyes as he took in the shoes on display. ‘When did boots come into style?’ he thought as he grabbed a pair of shoes to slip on. The third pair he tried fit, and he was just happy he couldn’t see how awful he looked.

Doyle found a pair that fit and slipped them on. Glancing up at Spike, the self-professed “Slayer of Slayers,” he bit back a laugh.

“Not one word,” he warned, growling fiercely. “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t be mocking me if you got a gander at yourself.”

‘There! That’ll wipe the smile off his face,’ Spike thought. His own mood improving slightly, he brushed passed the half-demon, his precious clothes held securely in his hands.

“Let’s get 'Lady Summers' some clothes and return to the tavern.”

The two raided several shops, grabbing all the frippery the Slayer would need to feel comfortable. Again, they grabbed just enough for them to appear respectable as they slipped from the tavern to a waiting hack they planned to hire.

Spike and Doyle made it back to the tavern a couple hours before dawn. Spike figured it would take the Slayer at least an hour to get ready; although, her new lady’s maid that he dragged beside him would go a long way towards speeding her along. It had been luck that the two of them had managed to convince the young woman that they meant her no harm and were looking for a lady's maid for Spike's “ward.” The fact that the two had saved the clearly destitute young woman from a fate worse than death had helped also.

Spike handed the maid the key to their room and shoved the packages into her hands, telling her to get her new mistress ready and not to dawdle, as they wanted to be on their way before sun-up. She bobbed a quick curtsy and fled up the stairs to the rooms above.

Finally free from his burden, Spike stalked off to hire a hack. Once he had realized Spike had things well in hand, Doyle had handed him a packet with directions to their new “residence” and enough money to see them there. Then, he’d promptly disappeared, taking both his and Spike’s clothes with him. The wanker. He’d taken his duster and his cigarettes and lighter had been inside. Right now, he’d kill for a cigarette.

As he walked along the street, he felt someone’s – or rather, something’s – eyes on him. Stopping in his tracks, he turned and stared at the darkened alley. His eyes briefly flashed yellow, letting his would-be attacker know that this master vampire would not become his evening meal. He smirked as he listened to the younger vampire fade back into the alleyway.

Striding off once more, he continued his search for a hack to take him to his new home. A few minutes later, Spike saw one pull up before another tavern and watched as a couple of drunken sailors stepped down from inside.

Reaching into the pouch, he extracted a coin and flipped it to the waiting driver. A grin lit up the older man’s face as he caught it.

“Climb in, M’lord. Where to?”

“Back to The Red Lyon. There’s another coin in it for you if you wait for me to conclude my business within.”

“Right ye are, gov’nor. ‘Ole Willie be waiting right out front for yer return.”

“Very good. I shall be but a moment.” He snorted at himself at the ease with which he had slipped back into the cultured tones of his human days.

Spike walked through the front door of the pub, weaving his way through the tables to the stairs at the back. He felt a prickling of awareness and realized a few vampires were tucked in the corner of the room, eagerly eyeing the patrons for their next meal. He didn’t pause as he sensed them, knowing instinctively that he was far older than any of them. ‘Probably on a scouting mission for their master.’

He knocked on the door and listened as the maid came towards the door. He knew it was she and not the Slayer from the sound of her gait, and the slightly unkempt smell that lingered on her frame. ‘That’ll be remedied soon enough.’ With his sensitive nose, he was going to insist his staff bathe…and often.

“Who is it?”

“It’s your Lord. Open the door.” He heard the key slip in the lock and listened as it turned, unlocking the door. The maid dropped into a quick curtsy as he crossed the threshold.

He was happy to see that the Slayer, with the help of her new lady’s maid, had finished dressing and was just getting the finishing touches done to her auburn hair.

“Good. You’re ready. I have a hack waiting below to take us to my country estate.”

Buffy rose gracefully from her seat. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in his changed appearance.

‘He looks almost human,’ she thought. ‘Just like an English Lord.’ She gave him a quick curtsy and allowed him to lead her from the room and down the stairs. They took the back exit again, not wanting to incite a riot among the drunken customers of the tavern.

Seeing the ravishing, dark-haired beauty making her way towards him, Willie jumped down from his perch and opened the door. He held it wide as Spike assisted her inside before stepping in after her. Her new lady’s maid followed behind him, sitting across from them in the vacant seat, as Spike wanted to sit next to the Slayer.

Willie shut the door and climbed back up on his perch. With a flick of his whip, the horses were in motion and they were on their way to Spike’s new “country estate.”

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