"My heart is turned to stone;  I strike it, and it hurts my hand.
O!  the world hath not a sweeter creature; she might lie by
an emperor's side and command him tasks."
- from  OTHELLO

For nine days he had been happy.

At first he could scarcely believe it...he'd never before known joy like this.

It was so strange, because little had changed in his outward circumstances; his sire's iron fist still controlled everything around him... 

Angelus had selected the mansion where they lived.  Angelus had taken from him everything the Slayer had left-  his male pride, his woman, his self-respect.  But the Slayer had made that possible.  Defeating him...turning him into a sodding eunuch in a cripple's chair, hiding his scarred face and shattered manhood from everyone.

Drusilla, cooing over him, shaming him even more...

But it didn't compare to the level of humiliation he'd endured once Angelus had returned.  There was Dru's initial excitement;  he told himself it was merely pleasure over the return of her sire.  Well, that was true, as far as it went- but her pleasure tended to express itself in the physical.

While he lay ill, it was understandable that she didn't share his bed;  but even after he'd begun to heal, she hadn't come back.

He'd known, instinctively, the first time she'd gone to Angelus.

That night, he'd locked his door, dragged himself onto their bed, and cried and cried....

After that, one day succeeded another in a searing misery that took his entire willpower to just endure in silent pain, concealing his agony from the others.

What changed it for him was the night Angelus had returned from the school...the night he'd gone to kill the Slayer, and failed.

Spike observed his sire roaring...scrubbing frantically at his skin in an effort to rid himself of the feel of her...

"Damn her!"  Angelus had howled.  "I was ready...I had my hands on her..."

"Poor Angel,"  Drusilla soothed.

"Dru!"  Angelus' panic was almost amusing.  "You'll do it, if I can't? You'll kill her for me?"

"Of course I will, my Angel,"  Dru pledged.

Somehow, witnessing his sire's frustration was the impetus Spike needed to get up on his feet.  Sometimes, on the verge of passing out from the incredible pain, he would see the Slayer in his mind's eye-  that oh-so-pretty face with its sassy luscious mouth-  and it would force him to push himself just that much harder.

Drusilla and Angelus didn't care that he'd regained the use of his legs, though.

As time passed, Dru was increasingly absorbed in Angelus, just as he was in his drive to harness the power of the Hellmouth.

Angelus enjoyed encouraging Dru's overtures- especially with Spike on hand to witness.  Spike controlled his expression whenever Dru unzipped Angelus right in front of him...he'd learned that any show of anger only served to delight the older vampire.  Yet there was always one thing that could disturb Angelus's equilibrium-  the Slayer.

The mere mention of her name grated on him...in those early days of Angelus' return, that was the only advantage Spike had, and he made full use of it.  Even in the beginning, Spike thought it was strange...the way Angelus couldn't just kill her.  Or turn her.  Or...leave her alone.

It was like he was unwilling, or unable, to let go of her. 

To drop her back on the opposite side, where they faced one another as mortal enemies...the way Spike and the Slayer always had....

Clarity-  that's what Angelus lacked.  Soul or no soul, he yet felt deep within that the Slayer belonged to him;  and he revelled in the belief- a belief that was close to obsession-  that she still loved him.

Spike had begun to follow the Slayer sometimes....at first because he intended to find a way to kill her.  It seemed to him that, if he could accomplish it, he'd restore his sense of self-worth.  He'd show up Angelus by finishing the job his sire had failed to do.

But then, somehow, he started to become interested in her life; and in the scraps of conversation he could overhear.  He came to realize that, despite her mother and her Watcher, and her few loyal friends, the Slayer was lonely.

Spike was lonely too...he always had been, of course; but things had been better when he'd had Dru to care for, and Dalton to talk to.  Once in awhile he blamed himself for letting the Judge kill Dalton;  he'd been the closest thing to a real friend that Spike had ever had.

The Slayer had friends, of course, but none that could truly understand the fight she waged, and the life it condemned her to. 

Most vampires had a superstitious dread of a Slayer and tended to run from them.

Not Angelus, though.

He began to seek her out;  Spike was startled at first, and then keenly interested.

At some point during the night, Angelus would deliberately cross paths with the Slayer...and every time...every single time...he'd refer to their former status as lovers.

Spike gradually grew aware of a certain fellow feeling for the Slayer; both of them the victims of Angelus' sexual taunts.  It was this empathy- so thoroughly unexpected- that finally made all the difference in both their lives.

It happened the night Angelus had chosen to confront her in the playground...

"Hello, lover,"  Angelus purred.  "Got a kiss for me?"

"I'd sooner kiss the Master...and he was totally repulsive,"  Buffy snapped.

"But now I'M the Master,"  Angelus smirked.  "YOUR Master, Buffy!  You still love me, even now!"

"No,"  she shook her little blonde head vigorously, "not the way you are now."

Angelus' eyes narrowed, and his mouth became a cruel line.  "What a bad memory you have, Buff.  Remember that night we made love?  You said that you'd always love me- no matter what!"

"Yes,"  she said icily, "I SO appreciate your telling my mother all about that!"

"Wasn't much to tell," Angelus shrugged.  "I've known women who were lousy in bed, but not one came close to you!  It was hard to remember which of us was supposed to be dead!"

Spike snorted so loud he was afraid the quarrelling couple would overhear. Angelus actually had the gall to tell the Slayer she was the worst sex partner he'd ever had?  When the bloody hypocrite had been bragging about the wonder of that single night with her, ever since his return?

At least, Spike thought smugly, that feisty  Slayer wouldn't break;  she was a tough little bitch to stand up to Angelus that way.

So he felt an acute sense of shock when his sire strode off, and the Slayer, her defiant facade gone, fell sobbing to her knees!

Spike never knew what compelled him to move out of the shadows;  just, suddenly, he was at her side, kneeling there, reaching out to touch.

"No luv, " he murmured softly, "don't cry.  That wanker's not worth a single one of your tears."

Gingerly he pulled her closer;  then got the shock of his life when her arms crept up to clasp his neck, while she buried her head against his shoulder, and cried and cried.

He wasn't sure what to do...he who'd never embraced any woman except Drusilla.  But his body seemed to react instinctively, eager to hold and caress. The Slayer was warm, so warm.. her hair silky against his cheek.

After a while she stopped crying, and leaned back and looked at him...really LOOKED, for the first time. "Thank you, Spike,"  she whispered.

That had been the beginning.

Every night after that he would show himself, sometimes to say a few words, sometimes just to stay beside her when patrolling was done and she headed home.

When her mother was around, she'd usually climb the tree and enter through her bedroom window.  He took to climbing with her, watching from the tree until she was safely inside.  Then one night, acting on impulse, he actually followed her onto the roof;  and rapped on the window.

She opened it.  "What's the matter, Spike?"

He looked at her, and summoned his cocky grin.  "Give us a kiss, luv?"

The Slayer laughed;  and impulsively leaned out the window.  Her mouth was soft...and warm, so warm...he felt like her kiss warmed his entire body.

"Ask me in,"  he whispered, coaxing.  "Please?"

She never hesitated, but smiled up into his eager eyes.  "Come in, Spike."

He tumbled through the window in a rush, grabbing her...throwing her roughly on the bed before she could react...taking her with a brutal force that left her sobbing and shattered.

He never meant to;  but the roughness  was what Dru liked, what she 'd always demanded.  He was dimly aware that he was making a mistake with the Slayer;  but by then he couldn't stop.

Afterwards, ashamed, he thought of running away...but instead he lingered, drew close, pulled the small huddled figure into his arms, wanting to comfort her but not knowing how.  He settled for stroking her hair.

Eventually her tears stopped and he told her the plain truth.  "I...don't know.  How to...to...make love.  Not without hurting."

She lay quietly for a minute;  then her hand reached up to cup his face. "We'll learn together,"  she promised.

And they had.

His cockiness was a facade that concealed his uncertainty...what he knew of love-making was only what Dru had taught him;  and she desired, she needed, pain....always. What Buffy knew was only that brief experience with Angelus-  forever ruined by the terrible aftermath.

Together they discovered a new world...

"Is it...always like this for you?"  she asked innocently, one day when they lay together in bed.

He almost laughed aloud; but he told her the truth.  "It never was. Before."

"For me either."  She held him to her with all her might- and he was so hot and greedy for her that he couldn't think of anything else.  There was nothing else... only her....

After that, he couldn't wait to tell Angelus.  The pillock was with Dru again...she was straddling him out in the open, in full view of anyone passing the garden.  Spike checked on the doorstep; for a heartbeat he felt anger.  Then...then, he shrugged.  What did it matter, anyway?

Angelus smirked at him; but Dru never even glanced up.  At one time it would have tortured him; but no more...he was changing, had already changed,  He filled a wineglass from the decanter in the hall, and responded calmly to Angelus' greeting when he and Dru came in a few moments later.

"A little anti-social, hey, Spike?"  his sire grinned.  "Don't care to join us anymore?"

It would have been the perfect opportunity for Spike to say, "Sorry, mate...but the Slayer's worn me out!" He opened his mouth to do just that;  and then he remembered her tiny hand caressing his face, and the way she lifted her mouth to his...

He said...not one word.

After all the times he'd dreamed of telling Angelus that he'd shagged the Slayer, when the time came, he held his tongue.

Angelus looked at him suspiciously;  it wasn't like Spike not to riposte.

"You know, Spike,"  he said slowly. "maybe I've been a little ...selfish, with Dru.  Now that you're no longer chair-bound, there's no reason why we can't share her, the way we used to."

Dru's lips curled in a feline smile.  "You boys know how to make a girl feel wanted."  She flitted over to Spike and took his hand.

They spent that day in bed together, but neither one found it satisfying.  It left him shamed and hollow inside...and he felt somehow soiled...too used and dirty to go to Buffy.  He stood it a week, and then...

He climbed swiftly, the branches familiar handholds, the roof familiar to his step, the window opening at his touch.

She was there;  and he stopped, eyes devouring her, asking a question...

But she ran to him, and he held her so tight she could barely breathe, all the while whispering words of longing and regret.

The Slayer stopped him, her fingers against his lips.  "It doesn't matter that you left;  you're back now, and I know you won't leave me again."

"Never again," he said convulsively.  "Buffy...." he ran his hands over her body- not sexually but more like he was trying to learn her by heart.

That was the night he realized he'd fallen in love with her;  that was the beginning of his happiness.

It was the little things that won him...the way she leaned as far out her window as she could, to give him one final kiss.  The way she held his hand, lacing their fingers together when he walked her home after patrol. The playful way she had of teasing him....of exciting him so much he could scarcely wait to take her to bed.

They began spending more and more time together:  dancing to the radio in her room;  sneaking off to a club in L.A;  watching old movies on television.

And they talked and talked.  He hadn't known it before... but he was starved for conversation.  The years of Dru's lunatic babbling had made him forget what it was like to simply talk to someone clearly, easily...and now he shared everything with Buffy.  Some of the stories he told her made her weep;  and others fascinated her...he could make her cry, or laugh, and his growing love for her both shamed and exhilarated him.

"Aren't you ever afraid?" he asked her.  "Aren't you ever afraid of the demon in me, Buffy?"

She propped her chin on her hands and studied him solemnly.  "Never,"  she swore.  "I love you so much there's no room for fear."

His stilled heart throbbed again at her words, so he tried to lighten things.

"Not afraid of the big bad vampire?"  he growled at her, but when she merely grinned, he allowed his demonic visage to disappear, and began to purr.

That would always make her giggle.  "You're like a cat,"  she'd say.  "What do I do with a big cat?"

"Why, luv, pet me," he'd tell her.  "Stroke me..."

They'd lie in bed, kissing for hours...and he dreaded every minute spent away from her.

Then, on the tenth day, Angelus found out.

---

It happened at the Bronze, where Spike had first set eyes on the Slayer- and his whole life had turned upside down.

She loved to go there;  and sometimes he went to, just because he enjoyed watching her dance.

"Dance for me!" he urged her.  "When you're dancing, I want your mind fixed on me!"

"It always is," she assured him.

But the Bronze was one of Angelus' favorite haunts;  somehow Spike had forgotten the way Angelus, too, once watched from the shadows while the Slayer danced.  That night the club was dark and crowded, and Spike couldn't resist pulling her close.

"We shouldn't,"  she said softly.

"Just this once," he whispered...and they moved together, to the music...slow and languid.  He brushed his mouth against hers with avid desire, but when he finally broke the kiss, he looked up...and into Angelus' burning gaze.

His sire stared at them for a minute, and then several dancers moved between them;  when Spike had a clear view again, Angelus was gone.

Alarmed, Buffy urged Spike not to stay the night.  But his desire for her was as potent as any drug;  he could no longer bear even one night without her, and so he overruled her fears.

When Spike finally returned to the mansion, Angelus was waiting.

"So...you and Buffy.  How long has this been going on, Spike?"  Angelus sounded amiable, but Spike was wary.

"You mean, how long have I been shagging the Slayer?"  Spike kept his face impassive; but his hands were shaking and he forced them into his coat pockets.

"That what you're doing?"  Angelus grinned. "Funny you haven't mentioned it."

"Oh I will...after I kill her,"  Spike snapped, praying his sire would buy it.

Angelus didn't.  "That'll be a long wait, hmmm?  Unless you plan to shag her to death!"

So he knew.  Spike shrugged, keeping his voice light.  "She's a cute little pastime, Angelus."

"As I know."  His sire smirked.

Inside the pockets of his leather duster, Spike's fists clinched.

"That why you're ignoring Dru these days?  Well, I can't blame you-  the appeal of novelty.  But poor Dru will be lonely."

"I doubt that,"  Spike snapped.  "Not as long as she has you for company."

Angelus snickered.  "That bothering you, Spike? You've gotta learn to share!  You will anyway...soon enough."

He knew he shouldn't ask; but he did.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, just that Buffy and Dru might have more in common than you might think.  Besides me,"  he chuckled, "and now you.  Life is much easier, Spike, if you don't expect fidelity from a woman.  Sooner or later, they all cheat."

He didn't believe it;  and by the time he was with her, holding her again, he had put Angelus' words out of his mind.  Almost....

But the poison worked inside him, festering.  He watched her closely, worried if she looked at someone too long...weighing every word when she spoke of Xander, of Oz, even of her Watcher.

He was able to dismiss Angelus' words...and yet.... He began to question her about the times when she wasn't with him...where did she go, what did she do? And then, one night she told him she couldn't see him.

"Why the bloody hell not?" he demanded.

"I promised to do something with my mother."  She gave him a quick kiss, and sent him on his way.

Stung, he prowled the mansion restlessly.  Drusilla came seeking him, but she had ceased to matter, and he ignored her until she went away.

Finally Angelus entered, grinning broadly.  "I see you got dumped,"  he commented slyly.

"Shut your hole!"  Spike yelled.

Angelus shrugged nonchalantly.  "Too bad, but I did try to warn you.  All women are sluts;  that's the way I like them."

"You're lying,"  Spike said flatly.

"Am I?"  Angelus laughed.  "I don't think so, Spike.  You see, I saw her with him.  Very cozy they looked, too."

"No!"  Spike said desperately, "she'd never..."

"See for yourself," Angelus said,  "Go to Buffy's house.  That's all I ask."  He cocked his head, in mock reproach.    "Time was, you'd have killed a man who touched your woman..."

Spike heard no more, he was already out the door, on his way to Revello Drive.

He stood in the shadows as the front door opened.  Buffy was wearing a new dress, he noticed, and that seemed a greater betrayal than the fact that another man had been in her house.

The man was tall and fair, and he and Buffy had their arms around one another.

"I've missed you,"  Buffy told him, smiling up into his eyes.

"Yes, darling, I know," he answered with a sigh.  "But you know how much I love you, don't you?  Nothing is more important to me than you are."

"I know."  She stretched up to kiss him.  "And I love you too."

Spike watched in stunned disbelief as his lover kissed another man, right in front of him.

The man turned, whistling as he walked away, and Buffy went back inside.

He looked mildly surprised when Spike intercepted him.  "Yes?  Did you want something?"

"I think you have something that belongs to me,"  Spike told him.

And snapped his neck.

He dragged the body back to the Slayer's house and left it on her porch. Swiftly he climbed the tree...

Buffy still wore her lovely new dress, but she'd started to unpin her upswept hair.  "Spike!"  she exclaimed, hurrying to the window,

He climbed inside slowly, watching her narrowly.  "Finished with your mum, pet?"

She had the grace to blush, he noted. "Oh that...um, Spike, I didn't...exactly...tell you the truth."

A cold killing sensation shot through his body as he stared into her beautiful treacherous face.  "The truth?"  he repeated, words dripping irony.  "You said you couldn't see me because you'd be with your mum..." His hands came up of their own volition, caressing her throat...yet ready to tighten.

Buffy giggled.  "Well, I lied!"

Almost his face rippled as his demon fought for release;  with a tremendous effort, Spike forced it down. He'd thought he could forgive her...forgive her ANYTHING...if she'd been the slightest bit remorseful.  Instead, she stood there laughing while his heart shattered.

"Why, Buffy?"  It was an anguished whisper.

"I just...I wasn't sure he'd show," she confessed.  "Sometimes he doesn't; but I called him to tell him about you...about us...and he promised he would!  And, he wants to meet you, tomorrow night!  I'm so happy, because I love him, you know;  even if I don't see him that much."

Spike stared at her, so pretty and so happy, and fear clutched him in its viper's maw.

"Who?'  he managed,  "Who...?"

"Oh sorry."  Buffy smiled and reached out for him.  "It wasn't my mother I had plans with-  it was my dad."

She kissed him softly.   "He was here tonight, did you meet him on the way?"

The vampire's cry echoed the full length of the street;  and from his position beneath the tree Angelus heard and chuckled maliciously.

Of all the human feelings, he thought, jealousy was the most destructive...the most demonic.

Perhaps that was why it was the one emotion he still allowed himself.

He knew it well.

The End