Chapter 1
“Thanks for the relocate. I perform better without
an audience,” Buffy told the vampire that had been chasing after her, suddenly
stopping her headlong run and twirling around to confront him. At the sudden noise
directly in back of her, Buffy pivoted on her heels. She saw Spike rising slowly to
his feet, cradling one arm that seemed to be hanging limply at his side. Hurry, she commanded herself. When the last bullet finally sprang free from his body, Buffy dropped the knife and
reached for the discarded t-shirt, trying to cover the holes on his back as best
she could. She was worried; not once had Spike flinched since she’d begun her
back alley first aid. She was really starting to get worried. He
needed blood, and now.
She charged the vampire, delivering a spinning kick to his head,
knocking him off balance. He recovered and the two engaged in hand-to-hand
combat, both blocking blows that would be deadly to mere mortals. Sensing an
opening, the Slayer blocked the vampire’s latest punch and delivered a kick to
his back, sending the demon to his knees.
“You were thinking, what, a little helpless coed before bed?” she taunted
the vampire as he struggled to gain his footing.
The vampire, enraged, charged Buffy, determined to kill the girl and drink her
slayer-enhanced blood. She easily deflected the kick he attempted, recovering
quickly to deliver one of her own, followed by several punches to his stomach
and face. Another kick from her sent the vampire tumbling over a trash can. Just
as he regained his footing, she grabbed him by his shirt and threw him into a
lamppost. She whirled around, her trusty stake poised at the ready.
“You know very well, you eat this late...” Buffy bent low and spun on her heels,
rising just in front of the vampire to shove the stake in his heart telling him,
“You're gonna get heartburn.”
She stood up in front of him as the vampire clutched his chest.
“Get it? Heartburn?”
She watched the vampire give her a shocked look before crumpling at her feet
in a ball of dust.
“That's it? That's all I get? One lame-ass vamp with no appreciation for my
painstakingly thought-out puns. I don't think the forces of darkness are even
trying. I mean, you could make a little effort here, you know? Give me something
to work with…” she complained as she walked across campus back towards her
dorm room.
“Watch your mouth, little girl. You should know better than to tempt the fates
that way,” Spike’s eyes narrowed on the Slayer's retreating form, his face
twisting into an evil sneer as he continued, “the Big Bad is back, and this
time, it's...”
The words left his mouth in a rush as bolts of electricity tore their way
through his body. The only thing saving him from whatever it was that was trying
to incapacitate him was the fact that he happened to be standing on a ledge.
Instead of falling backwards, he tumbled forward over the edge, disengaging the
electric pokers protruding from his back. He landed in a tangle of arms in legs,
momentarily dazed from his fall and the electric shock that seemed to numb
him from head to toe.
Shaking off the pain radiating from his body, he struggled to his feet,
attempting to put as much distance as possible between himself and his would-be
captors. He lifted his duster over his head, covering his platinum hair,
enabling him to slip – unnoticed – into the cover of darkness and disappear.
Feeling a little restless at the lack of a challenge the vampire on campus had
provided, Buffy bypassed her dorm and decided to conduct a quick patrol through
the cemeteries. She was so busy reflecting on the lack of response the vamp had
displayed for her somewhat witty puns, she failed to sense the four that were slowly stalked her
now.
Too late to prepare herself for their assault, Buffy tumbled with two of her
attackers as they threw themselves at her – sending all three of them to
the ground. She reached for the stake she kept
hidden in the waistband of her jeans, gripping it in her hands as she prepared
to dust the vampires sprawled out beside her. To her chagrin, it was knocked
aside by a third vampire who stood towering over the threesome.
“No need for that, Slayer,” the overweight vampire taunted.
“Fine! We can do this the hard way,” she agreed, swinging her leg forward to
kick the vampire that had landed in front of her in the head, then kicking
backwards with the same leg to deliver a blow to the midsection of the vampire
on the ground behind her.
Free of their grasp, she vaulted to her feet in a swift movement, taking up a
defensive pose as the four vampires encircled her.
‘Uh oh. This doesn’t look good, Buffy,’ she told herself silently.
Berating herself for her lack of awareness, she mentally prepared herself for
the coming confrontation.
Then it happened. All four charged at the same time and Buffy could only defend
while they rained blow upon blow on her frame, forcing her to the cold, damp
ground. Refusing to give up, but sensing her inevitable defeat, she struggled
against the vampire that had sat on her midsection, the other three holding her
limbs firmly against the ground. Crying out would do no good; who was there to
help her?
As the vampire lowered his head for the kill, Buffy waited silently, praying for
him to make a mistake…some small misstep that would allow her to rise quickly
to her feet and fend them off. He was just inches away from her neck when a
growl from behind him caused the vamp to freeze in place.
The next thing Buffy knew, three of the four vampires holding her in place –
including the one sitting on top of her – were yanked off her body by a black
blur. She didn’t waste any time determining who her savior might be. Her
eyes honed in on the stake that had been knocked from her hands, and Buffy
kicked the vampire that still held one of her legs pinned. A quick back flip and
she'd retrieved her stake, poised in a crouch and ready when the vampire she had
shoved off of her charged.
His mistake, as moments later, he was up close and personal with Mr. Pointy –
the dust when the vampire disintegrated, floating around her crouched body.
Not wasting time to gloat, Buffy turned to the scuffle being engaged several
yards away from her. Vaulting to her feet, she rushed after the other three
vampires – completely ignoring the cracked ribs and lacerations marring her
arms and torso. Her savior suddenly seemed to be in need of saving.
She had grabbed one of the vampires, throwing him off of her rescuer,
when she stopped dead in her tracks and stared.
Spike?
So flummoxed by the evil master vampire actually coming to her aid and trying to
save her – the Slayer – she just stood there and watched while he pulverized
the two vampires he was fighting…completely oblivious to the third she had
thrown off of him.
But, Spike hadn’t forgotten...managed to get out a, “Slayer, look out!”
before he was sucked back into the battle with the other two once more. He
wasn’t at his peak, the fall from the ledge had cracked a few ribs, and he was
sure that his shoulder was dislocated. Hence, the fighting with one hand. What
had possessed him to help the Slayer, he didn’t know. But, when he had seen
her pinned to the ground, helpless against their attack, something inside him
had snapped. He didn’t think, just reacted – using the force of his body to
throw himself at them and knock the majority of her captors off of her prone
form.
Buffy turned at the sound of Spike’s warning and brought up her stake,
planting it in the vamp’s heart just as he reached her. The sound of exploding
dust sounded around her and she glanced back to see Spike fall to the ground
from a nasty blow delivered by one of the vampires he was fighting.
Shaking her head for even bothering to care, she engaged the two remaining
vampires while Spike lay “winded” on the ground – some moral code of
ethics preventing her from seeing him dusted quite yet. After all, he had
saved her life. Why he had, well, she’d find out once she finished dusting with the two
remaining vamps.
After a series of moves: several kicks to their heads and chests, several
blocked punches by her, several punches landing by her in retaliation…and she
set them up for their dusting. Spinning low, she caught the first one unaware, driving
Mr. Pointy into his unbeating heart before he had a chance to block the strike.
The other, seeing himself suddenly alone and outnumbered, tried to turn and
flee. Spike prevented him from getting far, tripping the vampire with his
outstretched leg, allowing Buffy to swoop in and stake him from behind.
“Spike!” Buffy snarled, her eyes narrowing intently on the peroxide-haired
vampire.
“Slayer.”
“What are you doing here? I thought I told you never to come back!”
“You should bloody well be grateful I did come back,” he growled at her
before commenting sarcastically to himself, “And, what the bloody hell am I
saying?”
His amber gaze narrowed on her petite frame as if trying to ascertain the reason
for his sudden goodwill. He was evil, dammit! Evil vampires did not go
around helping people, and slayers, at that!
Neither had time to dwell on the reasons for Spike’s sudden turnabout, because
half a dozen men in camouflage green clothing – their faces covered by forest
green ski masks – suddenly surrounded the pair.
Unconsciously, the two mortal enemies turned so that their backs were to each
other to greet this latest threat.
“There’s too many of them,” Buffy whispered just loud enough for Spike to
hear.
“Right then…we clear us a path and make for the trees.”
“Ok…on three,” she whispered.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three,” the two yelled simultaneously, both turning to run towards the
weakest link in the circle.
Buffy plowed through the short soldier, making a hole for the two to slip
through. A few steps later, and she had hit her stride; branches tore into her
face and arms as she flew through the forest. She didn’t turn around to see if
Spike was behind her, the little tinglies along the back of her neck assured her
he was hot on her heels.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted around her, causing her to crouch as she ran. Vampires
were immune to bullets. Slayers, unfortunately, were not.
She had to hand it to Spike… he’d never uttered a sound. They’d run for
what seemed like hours before finally backtracking to the cemetery and the crypt
the two were currently hiding in. Once he’d been assured of their relative
safety, he’d collapsed on his stomach on top of a sarcophagus, the back of his
duster riddled with bullet holes.
Buffy stared in shock at the vampire passed out before her. She couldn’t
believe it. Spike had done it again. He’d managed to run and shield her body
from the bullets that had gone whizzing past them. Whatever had possessed him to
do such a thing? Feeling somewhat guilty at the abuse he had managed to
take in order to protect her, she set about seeing if she could do something to
help him.
Carefully removing the shredded duster from his still frame, she eyed the red
button-down shirt bearing so many holes, the thing looked moth-eaten. She
ripped the shredded material down the middle of his back, exposing an equally
tattered black t-shirt beneath. It, too, met the same fate, and Buffy stood gaping
at the bullet holes covering his bare back.
She gently eased his boots from his feet, careful not to jar him – trying to
make the vampire more comfortable as his body attempted to repair itself; she
was grateful when a switchblade slipped from his boot and fell to the ground. At
least she would have something to use in order to pry the numerous slugs from his back.
She was quite sure the vampire didn’t want his skin to heal over the pieces of
lead imbedded in his back.
His back was covered in blood, so Buffy used the shredded t-shirt
as a towel. She wondered vaguely how much blood a vampire could lose and not
have the results turn deadly. It was something she had never encountered before.
Usually, it was see vampire…dust vampire – end of story. She found herself
silently praying that it wouldn’t matter how much he managed to lose.
He didn’t deserve to die like this. They were warriors, the two of them.
She’d always know that if it were her turn to die, Spike would probably be the
one to do it…he’d seemed the only one capable, thus far. And, secretly, she
bet that Spike felt the same way. It was if the two were somehow
connected…waiting for that final dance.
Leaning over his bare back, she began the arduous task of removing the bullets
riddling his torso. She winced as she pulled each slug free, trying to balance
speed with a desire not to inflict any more pain. His back was quickly
becoming a bloody mess, each hole leaking blood the vamp could ill-afford to
lose. She bit her lip, eyeing with some trepidation the bullets she had
left to remove.
‘Why he’s out, I may as well reset his dislocated arm,’ she
reasoned and climbed off the sarcophagus for better leverage.
Gripping his arm in one hand and his shoulder in the other, Buffy gave it a
quick jerk, pleased when she heard the large pop reverberate through the silent
crypt. Carefully, she lowered his arm, allowing it to rest against his side.
Again, Spike had not uttered a single sound.
Ignoring the voice in her head that told her she was a fool for even considering
it, Buffy retrieved the discarded knife and climbed back on
the sarcophagus. She stretched out beside him, telling herself that she was just returning
the favor. A life for a life – simple as that. She would worry about killing him the next time their paths
happened to cross.
Tilting him up so that he lay on his side, she slit her wrist and rubbed the
open wound back and forth across his lips.
At first he just lay there, oblivious to the life-giving sustenance being
offered him. Then ever so slowly, it seemed his demon became aware of the blood
– the Slayer blood – tempting his senses. His mouth opened and he
unconsciously swallowed the sweet ambrosia trickling into his mouth…still too
weak to shift his features and plunge his fangs into her wrist.
Buffy dropped the knife she had been holding as his lips curved around the
opening she had made, his tongue laved sensuously at her wrist as he sucked
eagerly at the cut…the action producing an insistent throbbing deep in her
core. Her eyes widened in shock at the sensation.
This was why she had stayed away from him, her pseudo-disgust apparent every
time their paths had crossed. She knew that she’d enjoy his touch too
much…would become helpless if he were to ever get his fangs into her flesh.
Whereas Angel had been brutal, crushing her in his zeal to drain her as he
tried to restore his health, Spike was gentle. Even unconscious as he still was, he made
the process of drinking from her an erotic experience. Each pull of her blood
into his mouth stroked her that much higher, her eyes fluttered shut and she
became caught up in the spell he was weaving on her body by his simple touch.
Ignoring the protesting voice in her head that told her she was lying,
completely vulnerable, next to Spike – evil, soulless, deadly Spike – she
clamored closer to his cool body. Locked in the seductive pull he was eliciting
on her senses, she stretched out along his length, her head tipped back in a
silent moan as the pulls on her wrist became stronger, more insistent, her
life-sustaining blood filling his depleted stores.
Spike slowly became conscious of the warm, rich blood sliding down his throat,
filling his body. But the blood was different. Better. Powerful. Slayer blood.
Slayer blood?? His eyes opened and he gazed with amber eyes at the slayer
who was lying next to him, her slashed wrist held against his open mouth.
She was a sight to behold with her head thrown back in obvious enjoyment, her
lips parted as if trying to voice her pleasure, but had found herself unable. She
was spectacular. A vision of need and want just waiting for more. And, he was
just the vamp to give it to her.
He stopped sucking on her wrist for a moment to run his tongue back and forth
along the jagged cut she had made to her wrist. He was rewarded when her head
fell back further, exposing more of her long, slender neck to his gaze. He
watched, enraptured, her blood pumping hurriedly through her veins; the echoing
sound reverberated in his ears. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in
desire when he felt her body shift even closer to him.
The pulse beat in her neck was calling like a siren’s song, and Spike gently
laved her self-inflicted wound closed so he could move on to a much better
bounty. Not that he planned to kill her, far from it. Not now anyway…which was
a far cry from what he had wanted to do when he had first rolled back into town.
Dru was right. The Slayer was all around him. And, who was he to
contradict his Sire’s visions?
His hand came up to close over the wrist that she held to his mouth. She
didn’t seem to notice, so caught up in the moment was she. What little amount
of her blood he now had coursing through his veins had gone a long way
towards healing the gunshot wounds. So much so, that when he pulled her close
before rolling to his back – the Slayer coming to lie on top of him – he didn’t
even flinch at the pain...much.
It did get her attention, however, and Spike began to nuzzle her neck – his
blunt teeth nipping lightly at her exposed flesh causing goose bumps to break out
along her arms. The body that had started to go rigid in his arms, melted once
more as she lay nestled on top of him.
“Spike,” she whispered huskily, “What are you doing to me?”
Spike tried to respond…really he did. But her petite body had started rubbing
up and down along the erection straining against the confinement of his jeans,
and he could only groan and manage to get a hoarse “Slayer” to slip past his
parted lips.
His demon was eager for more of her blood, teased by the accelerated pounding
caused from her excitement…and let’s face it, her desire. Even now, Spike
was practically drooling at the scent of her arousal…each downward thrust as
she rocked against him, released another wave of the delicious perfume that was
distinctly Slayer, tempting his palate beyond belief.
He couldn’t prevent his human mask from fading, was surprised he’d managed
to hold on to his control this long. Never in his wildest dreams would he have
imagined her…the Slayer…to be yielding to him like this. And, not just
yielding. Matching, demanding even, with her body for him to bite her. It was
too much for his demon to take.
Back and forth his fangs trailed over the virgin side of her neck, glorying in
the slight keening sounds erupting from her parted lips. Her soft cries urged
him on as her body continued to writhe against his in a mass of unfulfilled
desire.
“Please, Spike,” she begged, her pride tossed to the wind, her body
helplessly responding to his touch.
Never one to refuse a lady, he allowed his fangs to finally pierce her flesh,
pulling her body even tighter against his as her blood filled his mouth.
“Oh God…yessssss…” she hissed.
Even the slight sting of his fangs when they sunk into her throat wasn’t
enough to pull her from her pleasure-induced haze. In fact, the slight pain only
seemed to enhance it. The sharp pulls against her neck triggered an answering
ache in her clit and she ground herself against his pelvis to help relieve
the insistent throbbing.
Spike didn’t know what was better, the taste of her blood filling his mouth or
the radiating heat from her core as it ground against his cock.
Needing to feel her more intimately against him, he rolled them until he was
nestled between her legs. Sensing how close she was to her orgasm, Spike circled
his hips, grinding himself hard into her clit. Her arms lifted to wrap around
his neck, pulling him even closer – if it were possible – as her legs locked
around his hips, leaving no space between their two bodies.
The feel of her dainty hands tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck before
hauling him even closer, drove him mad. When her legs locked around his hips,
Dru’s taunting words of the Slayer being all around him flitted through his
brain before his lust overtook him.
With his mouth firmly locked on her neck, he continued to sip her blood as he
persisted with his frenzied grinding, the dual sensations driving her closer to
her release.
Suddenly it was too much. Like a burst of blinding light, her orgasm ripped
through her small frame causing tremors to wrack her body.
“Oh…Spike!”
Spike’s eyes widened when he felt her release cause her body to quiver beneath
him. Then, he closed his eyes and groaned deep in his chest, a sudden rush of
her blooding flood his mouth, and he couldn’t believe it when his body
shuddered with his own orgasm.
Retracting his fangs, his head flew back revealing the corded muscles on either
side of his neck.
“God…Slayer!” he shouted before collapsing on top of her.
Not wanting to burden her with his weight, Spike rolled to his back bringing the
dazed Slayer with him to sprawl on his bare chest. He lifted his head from the
sarcophagus, licking at the trail of blood seeping from the twin marks at her
throat before using his tongue to close the wounds.
“Mmmm…Slayer… mine,” he whispered as he continued to nuzzle her neck.
Too addled to realize what she was doing, Buffy murmured a distracted
“Mmmmhmmmm” against his chest just before sleep overtook her.
Spike didn’t realize the significance of her agreement, just held her tight
while he drifted off to sleep, allowing her Slayer’s blood to finish the
healing process to his body.