Someone was in the room. Even asleep he could feel the presence, hear the steadily beating heart.

“Buffy?”

Movement ceased for a moment, then resumed.

“Come back to bed, love.”  His voice was thick and lazy. Thoroughly sated. And still husky with seductive promise. “Let me hold you awhile longer.” A pause; then, “Buffy?”

“It’s me, Spike,” Dawn’s voice was quiet, a note of sadness in it. Did he dream about Buffy a lot? Of being in bed with her? Of course he did, she thought to herself. He probably dreamed about having sex and, er, stuff, with her all the time. Dawn blinked at the sudden prick of tears. “Go back to sleep,” she told him. “I just came in to check the windows. I wanted to make sure they were covered.”

She took a step closer to the half-asleep vampire.

“Hmmm,” the sound rumbled deep in his throat, almost a purr. “Thanks, bit.”

“Go back to sleep, fang boy,” she said. The hint of a purr in his voice pushed her sadness away a little, and the slight smile curving her lips could be detected in her voice. “I think you need it.”

“Yeah, ‘k,” he agreed without hesitation, voice slurred. “G’ night, pet.”

Dawn shook her head as she glanced out at the lightening sky. “Right. Night, Spike.” 

She covered the last window carefully with a blanket, pinning it firmly in place. No unexpected slips of fabric were going to steal another person she loved from her.

~*~

It was late afternoon when he finally woke. He rarely managed more than two or three consecutive hours of sleep anymore, often going for several days without getting any at all. The long hours he’d spent today in his Slayer’s bed left him feeling – well, bloody amazing. He stretched, lingering over each movement as he extended his arms and legs, flexing various muscle groups before relaxing completely against the soft, girly sheets.

The air in the room was heavy with the delicious, musky aroma of sex.

God, what a fantastic night! He hadn’t felt this content, this completely sated for – hell, he didn’t even know how long. Years, anyway. He rolled his shoulders, and slid a hand down his body to his flaccid cock.

“Oh, yeah, you got a workout, didn’t you?” His voice purred his satisfaction out loud, as he let pictures of the night past roll through his mind. Buffy, leaning over him, breasts swaying just enough to be enticing, Buffy, moaning under him. Buffy, bringing him off with her hands, her mouth, her body. Buffy, crying out her pleasure as he did the same for her. Buffy, tight and hot and wet around him, her body in his arms, and her thoughts in his head.

He let his mind enjoy each image in all its lovely detail before trying to suss out what exactly had happened. Probably a combination of things. The full bag of his Slayer’s powerful blood, the anger and rage and pain over the encounters with the bot, and the simple reality of sleeping in Buffy’s bed, a place that had figured prominently in his sexual fantasies for several years. Toss them all together in a pot and swirl them about, and apparently you got a pretty bloody unbelievable night of wet dreams.

“Bugger it all.”

Wet dreams.

He was gonna have to do something about the sheets. He knew his body, knew the delicious feeling of total sexual satisfaction making its’ lazy rounds through all his limbs right now. He knew he’d gotten off over and over and over during the night. He could just imagine the reactions of any of the housemates to the state the sheets must be in. He’d have to take care of it. Not that he’d admit to it or anything, but since the disaster in Harris’ basement, he’d learned how to operate a washing machine. Bloke lived alone, he’d better know how to do for himself, right?

Groaning, Spike rolled out of bed, located his dream-Buffy discarded clothing and dressed, letting his mind replay his favorite moment from the long night. Buffy, warm and soft, her voice keening quietly, oh, sweet, helpless passion, as he moved deeply within her from behind. His body was curled possessively around hers, and his hands were stroking her intimately, compounding her pleasure. She began to say his name over and over, a chant, as she visibly started to lose herself in sensation. Her inner muscles were working him, squeezing tightly, and when they were close, so close, he finally gave in to temptation and allowed his elongated teeth to sink deeply into her throat. He drank of her wonderful, rich blood, his mind registering that it tasted even better coming directly from her body, and they came together, hard. The orgasm dragged out endlessly, making all the others they’d experienced during the night pale in comparison. Afterward, she had clung to him, murmuring to him of her pleasure, her contentment and her satisfaction.

Spike paused, his hands on the sheets as the memories rushed through him. His body stirred and he looked down at his groin in amazement.

“You must be out of your bleedin’ mind,” he told his body, and he gave a brief bark of laughter as he started to strip the sheets from the bed. He had almost completed the task when he noticed something – wrong.

They were clean. The sheets. There was nothing on them. He spread them out, examined them. Nothing. No evidence of any kind. Clean. But they smelled like sex, and like something else.

Cool and sensual, woodsy and wanton.

They smelled like Buffy – the differently scented Buffy who had come to him in the night.

Spike’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

What the hell was going on?

~*~

Spike was sitting on the stairs, facing the door, when Willow entered the house.

Waiting.

His eyes locked on hers, and the coldness deep in their blue depths caused her to freeze in place. It would never do, she thought nervously, to forget that Spike, chipped or not, could be a very dangerous adversary.

“Got a question for you, Red.”

His voice was as cold as his eyes, and Willow shifted uneasily.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Want a straight answer.”

“Okay.” Willow’s chin came up. She hated this feeling of intimidation and resented him for making her feel so – well, like a big old ‘fraidy cat. She wasn’t. Not anymore.

Not ever again, if she could help it.

“The bot. I know you were working on it last night. What’d you do to it?”

’What do you mean?”

Spike rose from his deceptively casual position and came down the stairs, moving toward her with that smooth predator’s tread of his. During their freshman year at UC-Sunnydale, when they were both punch drunk from lack of sleep during finals, Buffy had confessed to Willow that she often, and secretly, found Spike’s way of moving ‘damned fine’. Willow had dissolved into sleep deprived laughter at the time. But Spike’s way of moving looked ‘damned threatening’ from where she stood right now. And the closer he came to her, the more it approached ‘damned terrifying.’

“Simple question, Will.”

He leaned over her as she backed up against the closed door, and placed a hand on either side of her head.

“What. Did. You. Do. To. The. Bot?”

“N-nothing,” she stammered, hating herself for the sign of weakness. “Nothing bad. I just started changing some of it’s programming. Stuff to do w-with you. Like you wanted. Taking out the p-personal stuff.”

“And in this programming change, did you decide to send it to me to test out whether or not you’d gotten the kinks out? See if it still wanted to shag the vamp?”

“N-noo. God, no. I promise.” She was genuinely appalled by the suggestion and Spike seemed to hear that in her voice, because he backed away. His hands slid off the door as his menacing aura wavered, though she could still seen the anger burning in his eyes.

“And the bot couldn’t possibly have gone anywhere last night after I quit working on it. The power connections were totally broken, and I’m fairly certain no one else in this house could connect them,” Willow added for good measure, confidence returning now that he had backed off a bit.

Spike’s expression remained coldly furious, and his fist made contact with the door as he brushed past Willow to let himself out. “What the bleedin’ hell is happenin’?” he muttered under his breath.

Even without vampiric hearing, Willow caught his words. She looked at the fist sized dent in the wood where his hand had struck the door, then stared after him, her eyes narrowed and worried.

~*~

He'd known it hadn't been the bloody bot. He'd known it.

After all, he and the bot had never gone in much for mental communication, had they? And he didn’t think there was much chance of a robot learning to dissolve into thin air while he was holding it in his arms.

Still, it had been one possible explanation, and he'd –

He’d what? Wanted to know? To know what exactly? That he was losing his mind? That fear had been hovering on the edge of his awareness for several weeks now.

It was easier, and pointed more to the possibility that he retained some sanity if he just viewed the whole night as a dream. So what if he knew it wasn’t? Dreams damn well didn’t absorb sperm and drift off on the breeze with it.

At least, no dream that he’d even experienced before.

~*~

“I just wanted to assure you that it was not our intent –”

Spike interrupted. “No need to make excuses, Watcher. After all, I did the same thing to you, didn’t I? Deserved to get a bit of your own back, I expect.”

Spike had stopped punching the heavy sack, and had moved across to his coat as he was speaking. He went through the pockets until he came up with a cigarette. His whole attitude was cool and detached. If Giles had not been witness to the blond’s initial reaction to the robot last night and his subsequent reaction upon realizing it wasn’t Buffy, he would have been completely taken in.

But Giles had seen those things. He had seen Spike naked, raw, vulnerable beyond anything he would ever have believed possible.

It hadn’t been deliberate. He would never have done something like that to anyone. Much less to a being – a person – that had been working with them so tirelessly for quite some time now. Yes, he had been planning to ask Spike to look the bot over – after he had told him it had been repaired and reactivated. He and Willow had hoped Spike would be able to tell them how convincing the bot would be in fooling other demons.

He guessed they’d gotten the answer to that.

Willow insisted she’d just sent the bot upstairs, and had had no knowledge that Spike was up there. He had no reason to disbelieve her.

Giles tried to keep up with the conversation as his mind raced along other lines.

“What do you mean, you did the same thing – oh,” he said, as comprehension dawned. “With Drusilla, and Angel – us...”

“Yeah, had Dru summon up the teacher to torture you with,” Spike confirmed, lighting the cigarette. He didn’t contribute the fact that his suggestions to Dru had been made in order to keep Angelus from killing the Watcher. He’d been buying time with whatever came to hand in order to save the bleedin’ world. “No reason for you to explain your decisions to me. You needed to know if the bot would fool a vamp. Well, it did,” He took a long drag off his cigarette. “So, you’re plannin’ to have the bot start patrollin’ then?” His tone made it clear the subject of the previous night was closed.

“Yes,” Giles agreed, before asking carefully, “Do you feel you can patrol with it?”

‘No!’ Spike’s mind screamed.

“Sure, no problem,” Spike’s voice assured him. He gave a casual shrug and took a seat across from him. “She was built to be a good fighter.”

“Of course, her skills will never be able to touch Buffy’s, but...” Giles broke off as Spike’s face went still.

It was the ultimate guard, Giles realized, that frozen, tight-jawed expression. Had Spike always been so guarded in his expressions, in his words and actions, or was this something new since Buffy’s – loss?

“The robot should be able to help keep things under control,” Giles went on. “If we can keep the knowledge of Buf – of the true situation here from getting out to the general demon populace, I feel we can manage to keep any undue problems from arising.”

“Yeah, another apocalypse right now might be a bit much,” Spike agreed.

“Quite.”

“Still, normal random acts of violence, nice brawl breakin’ out here and there, the newly risen bein’ their usual idiotic selves – I should be able to take care of most of that. With the bot’s help, be a piece of cake.”

He studied the glowing end of his cigarette for a moment, then took another drag.

“So – another slayer get all chosen yet? ‘Spose the Council sends up a puff of white smoke or somethin’ when they’ve picked their girl?” Spike asked, exhaling his own smoke off to the side, away from the Watcher’s face.

He’d avoided asking the Watcher about a new slayer in the other talks they’d had. Giles hadn’t brought it up, and just the thought of it aroused such anguish in Spike that he’d simply left the subject untouched. But he was beginning to wonder why she wasn’t here yet, and if the Watcher felt the need to activate the bot again – well, he wondered if something wasn’t up. Something not of the good, as Dawn would say.

“There won’t be another slayer.” Giles’ troubled expression conveyed his real worry about the situation.

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

Giles explained about the imprisoned Faith, and the fact that as long as she lived another slayer would not be called.

“Bit of a snafu, that,” Spike commented. His mind was whirling with the implications.

“Indeed,” Giles agreed. “I’ve contacted the Council. I hope there’s something that can be done to circumvent the traditional methods of calling a slayer.”

Spike’s mind was spiraling into other areas now as he tried to suss out what all this meant for him and for Dawn.

“Heard anything from any of Dawn’s family yet? Her old man check in?” he asked bluntly.

Giles started a bit, a little surprised by the change of subject.

“No, nothing. Nor from any of the other relatives,” he added, correctly anticipating Spike’s next question.

“The bit’s worried about what’s gonna happen. Doesn’t wanna live with her wanker of a father in L.A., or wherever it is he lives now. I thought she’d be better off here, in familiar territory, so to speak. But maybe it would be better if she went to him.”

Giles didn’t hide his surprise. Spike seemed so devoted to Dawn. Was he tiring of spending time with the girl? He eyed Spike speculatively, and Spike answered the unasked questions.

“Way I got it figured, no slayer means life around the Hellmouth could get pretty dicey. Might not be the best place for the bit to finish growin’ up. And with no slayer about to ride to the rescue, I’ll probably be needed here. So...” he sounded reluctant, disturbed. He looked down at the floor, his expression hidden. “Maybe Dawn’s better off in L.A., even if she hates her old man right now. Lotsa kids hate their parents, right?” He was almost talking to himself. “They get by. An’ I could visit regular like. Keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s safe. Keep my word.” He looked up at Giles, met his eyes, and held them. “Maybe you could go to L.A. too. Get a place close to her. You’re a Watcher. Haven’t g – haven’t got a slayer to watch right now. Maybe you could watch out for the bit.”

“Spike –” Giles was completely taken aback by the turn in the conversation.

“I’d still be keepin’ my word, right?” Was he seeking reassurance from Giles or just trying to reassure himself? “Could go with her myself. But we both know I’m your best bet here. Take over some of the duties. Kill things. I’m good at that. Killing. Wa – watching things die.”

Spike stood, restless, and turned slightly so that Giles could only see his profile.

“Your word.” Giles repeated. Spike had mentioned that more than once. “Did you make a promise of some kind to Joyce before she died?” Giles knew Joyce had always been extremely fond of Spike. He’d often wondered at it and had even cautioned Buffy’s mother occasionally about it, but Joyce had just smiled and told him not to worry. Spike would never hurt her girls. She’d seemed as sure of it as she would have been if it had been engraved on a stone tablet and brought down to her from a mountaintop. Once her brain tumor was diagnosed, she’d seemed even more trusting of the blond vampire. She’d still hated Angel, though, so Giles knew she retained some rationality on the subject of the undead.

Spike was pacing now, smoke arcing from the cigarette as his hands moved expressively.

“No. That night. Before the tower. When we were... We were getting the weapons. We knew. Knew we weren’t all going to... I thought it would be me. Wanted it to be me. Go out in a blaze of glory. Best way for a warrior, right? And woulda been best for me. Sodding chip in my head messes with me all the time. Thought I’d changed some, but she’da never believed it wasn’t just the chip. So I was never gonna have her, ya know. And I knew it. Knew I’d never have her. Wanted it to be me. Help out once. Maybe someday, sometime, she’d look back and think maybe that one time, I’d done okay, ya know? But I gave her my word. She asked me t’ look out for the bit, anything happened. So I said I would. ‘Til the end of the world. Gave her my word.” He repeated and Giles wondered if he was even really aware of his presence anymore. “She haunts me, didja know? Comes to me all the time. In my dreams… Yeah, you’d expect that. Bloke dreams of the bird he loved, right? ‘s only natural. Snoggin’ and shaggin’. Everything all sex and blood. But she comes when I’m awake too. Tryin’ to tell me somethin’. Tryin’ to make me hear. An’ I never can. Never could, anyway. Not ‘til last night. Askin’ me again to watch out for the bit. To be ready. Stay strong, she says. Strong. Like I could ever be strong enough. Let her die, didn’t I? Laid right there, helpless on the ground, an’ couldn’t do a fucking thing but watch her die. An’ then she’s tellin’ me I think I know what I am, what’s to come, but I haven’t even begun. What the bleedin’ hell does that mean? Does she want me to stay here, help with the slayin’? But if no new slayer is comin’ to take charge of the soddin’ Hellmouth, how can I do all that an’ watch out for the bit too?”

Giles was almost frozen with shock. What had the vampire just said? Was he having visions? And if he wasn’t, how could he possibly know those words? Those particular words? Dear Lord, the possibilities that had suddenly been laid out before him were rife with implications he couldn’t even begin to guess at.

“What did she say to you?” he asked for a repeat of the words with quiet deliberation. This was important.

“Told you. She asked me to watch out for the bit. To stay strong. Be ready.”

“No, the other bit,” Giles prompted, leaning toward the vampire. “The bit about knowing what you are.”

“She said –” Spike began, and Giles interrupted.

“Her exact words.”

Spike seemed to come back to himself a little, and he turned to face Giles squarely. His eyes revealed his curiosity at Giles’ intent posture and expression, but he provided the information without questioning him. “She said, ‘Spike… You think you know, what you are, what’s to come… You haven’t even begun.’”

Giles sat back in his seat. He removed his glasses, put the earpiece to his pursed lips and stared at the vampire, speechless.

CONTINUED...  WANT TO CONTINUE READING THIS OUTSTANDING FIC GO TO MARY'S PAGE.