Their Soul

By Kallysten

Chapter 11 - French Kiss

There were quite a few advantages to living in a real house rather than in a crypt, but as Spike saw it the greatest thing of all was the bathtub. It might not be something that agreed with the bad boy image, but as far as he was concerned bubble baths, especially shared with a loving Slayer, were very much underrated in the demon world.

The tub was a bit uncomfortable against his back, but the softness pressed to the front of his body more than made up for it. Buffy’s head was resting against his shoulder, his arms were around her, her fingers laced to his. No caresses other than those of the bubbles, for once, as they sat, immobile, in the slowly cooling water. Just a few shared moments of peace and quiet. Just little bits of heaven.

“What time is it in England?”

“Say what, luv?”

He had been half falling asleep, relaxed by their earlier activities, the warm water and the comfort of having his lover against him, and wasn’t sure he had heard right. Had she said England?

“You know, time zones and stuff?” she insisted. “What time is it there now?”

Frowning slightly, he thought about her question for a second.

“Somewhere around 10 am, I think. Why?”

“I was just thinking about Giles. Wondering if he has done his little revolution yet. What do you think?”

His frown deepened. “You were thinking about Giles?” he asked with horror that wasn’t totally fake in his voice. “You’re enjoying a bubble bath with the love of your unlife and you’re thinking about your Watcher? I’m hurt, Slayer.”

She turned her head just enough to be able to kiss his chin.

“You wanna know what made me think of him?” she asked softly.

“Nope, don’t care”, he replied, still pouting. “Want you to think of me.”

“I was thinking of you. And that soon you and I will be married. And that I hope Giles will be back by then. Because that will be the happiest day of my life and I want everyone to share my happy day.”

Spike could have sworn he felt his heart give a beat at her quiet declaration. He found her smiling lips for a soft and tender kiss. Tenderness quickly became fire, tongues battled sensuously, and hands that had been still so far began to explore wet skin, teasing hardening nipples, stroking sensitive flesh. The position, however, was awkward, and soon Spike broke the kiss, eliciting a protesting moan from Buffy. Before she could complain any more, though, his lips were back to devouring hers in a bruising kiss. But in that brief instant he had managed to stand and step out of the tub, holding Buffy closely, her legs and arms wrapped around him, his hardness trapped between them. As he stumbled toward the bedroom, her mouth drifted from his lips, nibbling along his jaw and throat as she whispered huskily:

“Now. Want you now.”

Closing the door behind them with his foot, Spike turned around to press her back against it, raising her body until his cock slipped between her moist curls, then letting her down just as he thrust in. The first contact was intense, bruising, and brought out twin groans from the vampires. The following strokes were just as forceful, the pace urgent as Spike tried to lose himself in his lover, to become one with her. Her nails broke the skin of his back, and at the smell of blood he shifted to game face. The nibbles he had been bestowing his marks on her neck became bites as his fangs pierced her flesh, and sweet nectar flowed into his mouth. She let out a strangled shout, echoed by his as her inner muscles clenched and relaxed rapidly around him, pulling him even deeper inside her. He managed to stop his thrusting, lapping tenderly at her neck as her quivering slowly subsided. When he trusted himself with moving, he stepped away from the door, never breaking the intimate contact, and lowered her gently to the bed, covering her body with his. She pulled his face to hers and her lips brushed his, followed by her tongue which slipped into his mouth and thrust slowly against his. Following this slow pace, he started moving in her again, angling his hips to caress her clit with each stroke. Now that the initial urgency was gone, he planned to make this last as long as possible. After all, they had eternity in front of them.

* * * * *

Dressed as a civilian, with no weapons or high-tech devices apparent, the man could have been just anyone taking a night stroll through the park. Except that most of Sunnydale’s inhabitants knew better than to go around at night in deserted places like this one. Not completely deserted, though. Two other shadows were slipping through the park, and so far they had two dusted vamps to their credit. Usually there were three of them, but tonight one of the targets had separated from the others on the community college campus. She wasn’t the primary target, however, and he had just followed the blonde vampire, keeping him barely in sight so as not to alert him. He only hoped his superior would give the order for removal soon, because, even if he wasn’t alone on this mission of surveillance, observing the habits of Hostile 17 was quickly becoming boring.

* * * * *

Manon had been living with the two vampires for three days already, and until now she hadn’t gotten her chance to ask Spike exactly why he had given up humanity for her. She had started to believe that Buffy didn’t want to leave them alone for too long, since the longest time until that night Manon had been alone with Spike had been a whole five minutes. But then, tonight, the blonde Slayer had sent them off to patrol by themselves while she went to school to take an exam or something. So they had left her in front of the college and been on their way to a nearby park. They’d been patrolling for almost half an hour already, which left only an hour to Manon to find the courage to get the answer to the question that was torturing her.

The problem was, she didn’t know what to expect. Right after she had overheard what he didn’t want her to know, she had begun almost hoping – and still felt slightly guilty about wishing something like this – that Spike didn’t really love Buffy, that it was just some vampire thing. But after sleeping, or rather trying to sleep, a few yards away from their bedroom, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Would they do what they were doing – and no, she wasn’t trying to imagine what it was exactly, not at all – so often if they weren’t in love? Or maybe that was a vampire thing too. She just needed to know. And to know, she would need to ask. Which meant breaking the silence they had both been observing since the beginning of patrol.

“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” she said a little hesitantly.

“What...? Uh, yes, it is.”

He hadn’t called her kid. Good point. Now to the heart of the matter. Or the matter of the heart.

“Do you…”

Do you truly love Buffy? Do you love me? Do you like me one itsy little bit?

“Do you want to sit for a while?”

Coward.

She half turned to him as they walked, hoping the darkness was hiding the rising flush in her cheeks. She doubted it, though, because she could see him distinctly. The features sculpted in marble, the questioningly arched eyebrow, the perpetual upturn of his lips.

“You OK, kid? Feeling tired?”

Joy and disappointment brought by just five words. He cared about her, but she was back to being a child in his eyes. But then, who wouldn’t be compared to his own age?

“I’m not tired,” she said a bit too cheerfully. “I just would like to sit down a while. Enjoy the nice night. Talk a little.”

Her voice had become a whisper on the last few words, but she had no doubt that he had heard. The eyebrow was still questioning, but it seemed a bit puzzled too now.

“There’s a bench over there,” he said nonetheless, pointing somewhere to his right.

Nodding, she followed him toward the bench, drinking in the sight of his form, for once not having to worry about someone catching her looking. There was something in the way he moved, something predator-like, almost dangerous, but it didn’t evoke any feelings of fear in her, far from it. With a feline grace that was all his own, he jumped on the bench, sitting on the edge of the back rather than on the seat. She imitated him, sitting at a reasonable distance from him, watching from the corner of her eye as he lit a cigarette, the brief flame of his lighter illuminating his features.

“Spike… there’s something I wanted to ask you…”

He tilted his face toward her, waiting, she realized, for her to ask.

“First I want to thank you,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I know that you saved my life. With your own. That’s more than anyone ever did for me. More than I ever thought anyone would ever do.”

As she talked, his face grew sullen, and her hopes sank to an all time low. He took a long drag on his cigarette before flicking the stub away, and she heard him mutter something that suspiciously sounded like a curse.

“Do you… do you regret doing it?” she mumbled, confused.

Again, he turned toward her, his face now filled with surprise.

“Of course not,” he said, frowning. “But you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“Why not?” she breathed with a quiet sigh of relief.

“Because I’m a bad, evil vampire,” he said, flashing his demon face for a split second. “Wouldn’t want you to forget it.”

Despite his very serious voice, he had a slight grin as he said so, and she understood he was just joking. She doubted there was even a gram of evilness in him.

“I don’t believe you are evil,” she said very softly, scooting just a bit closer to him. “I think you are a wonderful man who cares enough about me to give up his life to save me.”

Close as she was, Manon could see a storm in the dark blue of his eyes, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good or bad sign.

“Listen kid,” he said, almost uneasy, moving a little farther down the bench. “I do care about you, but really you…”

“Je ne suis pas une enfant,” she interrupted him, slipping back into her native French without even realizing it. “Et je t’aime.”

Gathering all her courage, Manon leaned toward him, determined to prove to him her proclamation that she wasn’t a kid and loved him. And she would prove it with a kiss.

Chapter 12 - Hurt

“Bloody hell!”

As he jerked away from Manon’s approaching lips, Spike fell off his precarious perch on the edge of the bench, landing hard on his back, stunned for a second as much by her words as by the unexpected fall. Immediately, she was bending over him, worry present in her clouded eyes.

“Are you hurt?” she asked quietly, the threatening tears clear in her voice.

Mumbling that he was fine, he got to his feet. He had a sudden urge to leave the kid where she was and run away, but that just wouldn’t do. He had to put an end to this. He had to… God… he was the one who had always ended with his heart broken until now, doing it to someone else made him sick.

“I love Buffy,” he said bluntly.

“But you died for me”, she protested weakly. “It has to mean something.”

He stood right in front of her, trying not to flinch at the quiet tears that rolled down her cheeks, and put all his conviction into his words as he said:

“All it means is that I hated being human so much that it was easy to give it up. It saved you, great. But it saved me too. It wasn’t the selfless heroic act you think it was, Manon. It was me thinking of myself first. Don’t see more in it that there is.”

Her lips moved, but for a second no sound came out, until finally a whisper rose.

“You said you’d take care of me. Before the battle. And then you helped me fight. And you carried me out and you broke the pendant and you saved me and now you say all of this means nothing?”

Her eyes were pleading, and it hurt, because he knew he had been in her place before, begging for crumbs.

“It means you are a nice kid and I don’t want to see you die,” he replied softly. “Just like I don’t want to see any of the Scoobies die.”

“No more?”

“No more.”

Her eyes closed and he could see she was trying to stop her tears. He supposed she could have used some physical comfort, even just a hand on her shoulder, but doing that would just give her hope while he had tried to be clear there was none. He turned his back to her and walked a few steps away, giving her a minimum of privacy to compose herself. A cigarette was lit and between his lips without a conscious thought of even pulling his packet and lighter from his pocket. How could he have been so blind? The blushes with no reason. The always too fast heartbeat. The occasional stammering. The way she watched him when she thought he wouldn’t notice. He should have guessed what was going on right away, and put an end to it before it even started. But he had seen nothing. He had acted with her like he did with Dawn, falling again easily into the big brother role, and she had mistaken that for more. At least now he understood why she had slipped between him and the demon that had almost killed her. She had been ready to die for him, because she was in love with him. No wonder she had believed that him giving his life for her meant the same.

“Spike…”

He faced her again, glad to see that the tears had dried, wondering what she was going to say now.

“I’ll never mention this again,” she murmured, her gaze avoiding his. “And I hope you won’t either. But just once… can you… I’d like…”

“You’d like what?” he asked warily.

She took a deep breath, and her chocolate eyes rose from the spot they had been contemplating on the ground and found his gaze.

“Embrasse-moi,” she whispered. “Juste une fois. Rien de plus.”

Slowly, he shook his head. She wanted a kiss, just one, but there was no way in hell he could do that. Because he loved Buffy with all the soul he didn’t have anymore. And because if he did, Manon might think there was more for her to get from him.

The tears were back in her eyes, though not spilling yet. Unwittingly, he took a step toward her, then another, until his legs were touching the bench. There was the barest glint of hope on her features as she tilted her face up, and her eyelids fluttered closed. Pressing a gentle hand to the back of her head, he pushed down just a little, and brushed his lips on her forehead. He moved back a couple of steps, and for a second she didn’t stir. Then her eyes opened, each freeing a tear that she wiped from her cheeks immediately. Smiling sadly, she nodded and got to her feet. She retraced their way out of the park, going straight to where they had left the car, and he followed her, hands thrust deep in his pockets, wondering whether it was always painful even on this side of the rejection.

* * * * *

As soon as she got in the car, Buffy felt that something was wrong. She caught a glimpse of Manon, and her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had cried. Spike was uncharacteristically silent as he drove them back to Revello, nodding as she told him about her final but obviously preoccupied by something. Just a couple of blocks from home, Manon spoke, and there was a slight wavering in her voice.

“Do you think maybe I could live somewhere else until Andrea comes back? With you two around me all the time I’m so used to the warning that I can barely tell when another vampire is close.”

Before Buffy could say a word, Spike was agreeing, promising to call the Sccobies and get one of the other two couples to put her up. One more clue, Buffy thought, that something had happened while she was at school. But what? Had they fought? Had they argued about something? What could they argue about, anyway? Buffy had noticed that the younger Slayer had a major crush on Spike, though he seemed clueless. She wasn’t much concerned about it, knowing very well that Spike was completely hers. And then, even Dawn had had a crush on him when she was younger. She had gotten over it, and so would Manon, as soon as she realized she didn’t have a chance.

As soon as they arrived home, Spike made a beeline to the phone. Within three minutes, he had convinced the Witches, as he called Willow and Tara, to get the spare bedroom of their apartment ready for a houseguest. From where she sat on the counter, Buffy observed as he told Manon she could go there immediately if she wanted. The girl accepted the offer, and a few minutes later she was at the door with her packed suitcase. Spike insisted that Buffy come along for the ride, and she guessed he didn’t want to be alone with Manon. Spike afraid of a Slayer? That was a first. She couldn’t wait to get him alone to know what was going on exactly.

* * * * *

From what would now be her room, Manon could hear the vampires and witches chatting in the living room of the apartment, but she wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying. Instead, she tried to focus exclusively on the so important task of unpacking her suitcase, and think of nothing else. But soon she was done, and fresh memories invaded her mind. She had made a complete fool of herself. How she could have believed even for one instant that Spike had any feelings for her, she had no idea. And the worst thing was that he had been so nice about it. If he had laughed, mocked her, it might have hurt more at the moment, but it might also have helped her get over him. His kindness just made it all more difficult.

Sitting on the bed, face in her hands and sobbing quietly, she heard a soft knock on the door. Quickly wiping her cheeks the best she could, but knowing it wasn’t much use anyway, she only hoped it wasn’t him behind the door, or she might just die of shame and pain. It wasn’t. Tara stepped in, holding a couple of fluffy pillows, her soft smile disappearing as she looked at Manon.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asked quietly.

Manon nodded, but fresh tears rolling on her face proved that she was far from alright. Tara came closer and sat on the bed next to her, placing the pillows behind them. A soothing hand came to stroke Manon’s back lightly, and the young Slayer just stopped trying to hold back the tears and sobs.

“It will be fine,” the older woman assured in a comforting voice. “Whatever it is, it will be fine, you’ll see.”

Chapter 13 - Aftermaths

As he drove them back home, Spike could see from the corner of his eye that Buffy was watching him curiously, almost expectantly, but what she expected, he had no idea, until she finally asked:

“So, what happened?”

He threw her a quick surprised glance before focusing his attention on the road again. After driving the car with clear windows for a few days, it was a bit annoying now to be back to the black paint covering.

“What do you mean, ‘what happened?’” he asked, frowning.

“Manon cried”, she informed him. “And you were as eager to have her out of the house as she was to be gone. So I’m asking, what happened?”

He nibbled on the inside of his cheek absently, thinking about what to tell his Slayer. He didn’t want to embarrass the kid, and didn’t want Buffy to feel jealous, but he didn’t want to lie either.

“I think the kid is more bothered by the squeaking from our bed that by having us playing with her Slayer senses constantly,” he said quietly.

“Because she has a crush on you?”

He turned his head toward her swiftly, and the car drifted close enough to the left side of the road to cause a driver coming the other way to honk and swerve his vehicle away from them. Immediately, the vampire returned his eyes to the road.

“So, you noticed,” he said, slightly relieved that he didn’t have to decide whether to hide this from his Mate or not. “Since when? And how?”

“I don’t know,” she replied nonchalantly. “It was kinda obvious.”

Laughing quietly, he shook his head. “Yeah, obvious. I must be stupid or something.”

She leaned against him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “You’re not stupid, just dazzled by the blinding beauty of your fiancée,” she said mischievously.

He glanced at her smiling face, and took his right hand of the wheel to wrap his arm around her. She had no idea how true her words were, had she?

A few seconds later, he pulled into the driveway and they entered the house together, holding hands like teenagers. They separated in the hall, Buffy sauntering to the kitchen while Spike went to the living room and let himself fall on the sofa. He flicked the telly on and zapped aimlessly through the channels until a familiar movie caught his eye. He wasn’t paying attention to it though, his mind wandering to old memories. Buffy soon joined him, bringing two mugs full of warmed blood, human by the scent, as they had dropped by the hospital the night before. He noticed as he took the offered snack the look of distaste she was giving the screen.

“Don’t like Star Wars, luv? Bloody good movie, it is. A pity Vader turns all poof-like at the end, though.”

“It reminds me of the nerd trio,” she replied with an exaggerated shudder, and stole the remote control from him.

Usually, that would have started an all out war for the possession of the device, but Spike didn’t complain when she changed the channel, and kept sipping on his blood. He didn’t even comment as she stopped on what was very blatantly a chick flick and settled on his lap.

“So, when did you finally notice?” Buffy asked after a little while.

He didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. That, too, was rather obvious.

“Right about the time she said she loved me,” he said self-deprecatingly, then added, hiding his slight worry: “You’re not upset?”

She discarded her empty mug, and her now free hand came up to play in his hair. He leaned into the familiar touch, coming very close to purring.

“I think you did enough to prove you are mine and mine alone,” she replied, nuzzling his neck. “And if I was upset every time a woman looked at you, I would chain you to our bed and never let you out”.

A certain region of Spike’s anatomy responded to the idea, and Buffy giggled softly against his skin. Sitting on him as she was, she couldn’t have failed to notice the stirring in his pants. She adjusted her position, now straddling his legs, one knee on each side of him.

“I see you’re not opposed to it,” she whispered right against his ear, her tongue flicking his earlobe teasingly.

“As long as we don’t have an audience,” he replied, nipping at the tender scars on her neck.

“Dawn complained about it for the last three years and you never sympathized with her,” Buffy said with a low chuckle. “Nor with Steven or Giles, and you know they heard us too.”

“Why would I care if they know I’m shagging you? ’S far as I know, none of them fancies me. ”

“But she does so you care.”

The arm that was loosely coiled around her waist tightened its hold, pulling her body closer to his. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deeply, taking the scent of his Slayer, so feminine, so soft, so her.

“I’ve been in her place, luv,” he mumbled, reluctantly visiting old but still painful memories. “I know what it’s like to be right outside the bedroom and to know the one you love is with someone else. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

The almost funny thing was that both times it had been the same man in the bed instead of him, or almost the same. Which might be one of the reasons Spike was always purposefully very loud when they spent a night at the Hyperion.

The mood was very heavy suddenly, and Spike wished he hadn’t said that out loud. He was trying to think of a way to lighten the atmosphere when Buffy said, very low, but with a hint of teasing:

“Are you telling me you don’t wish Riley could hear us?”

He couldn’t help laughing quietly at that. “I stand corrected, luv. Think we could invite him and give him a show?”

He waggled a suggestive eyebrow, and Buffy stifled a giggle by pressing her mouth to his. His tongue ran over her closed lips, silently requesting entrance, and soon was granted access. Gently, delicately, he caressed and probed every part of her mouth, before inviting her tongue to dance. Her fingers were threaded in his hair, while his hands were on her back, one plunging under the waistband on her pants and kneading the soft flesh there, the other pressing her closer to him. Her hands glided down his face, caressing softly as they went, until they were on his shoulders. She pulled away from his lips then, and he let out a protesting growl.

“Buffy…”

She laid a finger across his lips, shushing him, and he licked and nibbled the digit softly until she took it away. As she let herself slide to the floor, her hands dropped to his crotch and fumbled with the buttons of his jeans, freeing his hard cock from its confinement. He watched her intently as she touched it with just the tips of her fingers, and had to suppress a groan when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. But when she leaned forward, when her tongue came out again and traced his length, he didn’t even try to stifle his moan.

Keeping his eyes on her as she licked and nipped at sensitive skin, he wove his fingers in her hair, trying his best not to urge her on. Quickly, she had him whimpering and begging for more, and with a wicked smile flashed up at him she relented. The sight of her shiny pink lips closing around him was a wonderfully erotic thing, but it paled compared to that of sliding in and out of her mouth, her blunt teeth scrapping teasingly. He had to shut his eyes tight not to bring a premature end to the exquisite sensations she was creating.

The hand at the back of her head now accompanied her movements, increasing her pace ever so slightly, while the other tried to find something, anything, to hold on to. Her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding him firmly as her head moved up and down, caught his, their fingers instantly weaving together. He was close, very close to coming when she suddenly started purring. The vibrations sent him over the edge, and he threw his head back, roaring her name as his release filled her eager mouth.

* * * * *

It had been a stupid idea. No, actually, it had been the most stupid idea he could ever have had. Including him, his unit counted fifteen men. Several of them had already taken a turn at the surveillance of Hostile 17, and any of them could have placed the tracking device on the vampire’s car. It hadn’t been judged necessary until now as the vampire had not been using the vehicle, but tonight he had, and Riley had decided to repair this mistake with the briefest delay. And he had decided to do it himself. Which had been a very, very dumb idea. Not only because the inhabitants of this house knew him and might get really pissed off if they noticed him on their lawn. But also and mostly because, when he had heard the loud moans coming from inside, he hadn’t been able to resist and had approached the window. There was just a narrow gap between the drawn curtains, but it revealed quite clearly what was going on in the living room. With a sick fascination, he watched Buffy and that thing, aware that he should really leave before someone noticed him, but unable to tear his eyes away from the revolting sight. A sight made even more revolting by the fact that his traitor body wasn’t insensible to it, quite the contrary. He only managed to move away, completely numb, when the show was over – at least, the first act, they didn’t look ready to stop any time soon - one thought louder than anything in his mind. If he had needed a proof that the Slayer was under a thrall, he now had it. The Buffy he knew would never have lowered herself to doing that.

And God help him, how he wished she had…

* * * * *

A quick rain earlier in the morning had left the streets of London wet and slightly shiny under the now warm sun. From the top floor of the Council’s headquarters, Giles could see the growing activity in the streets of the city, which in no way matched the activity inside the building. Getting rid of Quentin Travers had been pleasantly easy, and in truth the ex-Watcher had expected that particular battle to take longer. But the now headless Council had lost none of its stuffiness.

The day before, for hours, he had been interrogated, the questions touching to subjects as varied as Faith’s death, Travers’ attempts at controlling Buffy, Spike’s behavior since he was dechipped. The High Council had never approved of Travers’ role in giving his fangs back to the vampire, but had not known of his deal with Buffy. Also, while the Council knew about the failed attempts at capturing Faith, only the retrieval squad had been told that the death of the young woman was preferable to her escape, which Giles had found out by comparing notes with Buffy and Faith. In the end, Giles had gotten tired of the quasi court martial interrogation, which concentrated on the actions of Quentin Travers but left untouched other more pressing questions. Since he wasn’t actually a Watcher, it had been easy to tell exactly what he thought to these people who knew more about past Slayers that they did about the current ones. His outburst had left the High Council shocked and speechless, and he had barely paused a second to give an apologetic glance to Andrea before he stormed out of the building.

He had been surprised to find her at the door of his flat after taking a calming stroll for an hour or so. They had walked down the street to the pub and talked for a while around a couple of these beers that a certain annoying bleached blonde vampire called ‘the good stuff’. She had convinced him, quite easily he had to admit, to come back to the Council the next day. And there he was.

It wasn’t just the High Council in a secluded room that he was facing with Andrea now. It was the whole assembly of Watchers, in the ballroom, just like when Travers had been deposed. It wasn’t dry questions and almost sarcastic answers this time. It was a real discussion about everything that sorely needed to change if the Council of Watcher intended to play its role. Giles didn’t pretend to have all the answers. What he had was the experience of fighting along a young lady for almost ten years and the observations he had made during that time. The fact that Andrea, being who she was, had observed some of the same things in the few weeks she had been an active Watcher only reinforced the power of his words. It might take a little while before they got to the point of finding solutions to all the problems, but at least now they were doing something.

Giles just wished his heart didn’t start jumping around in his chest like a teenager’s every time Andrea glanced his way or sent him a shy smile from across the room.

Chapter 14 - Being Friends

Manon had been living with Willow and Tara for two days already. Two days during which she had completely declined to come to the Magic Box to train and declined once to patrol, claiming that she still felt weak after her near death experience. Her excuse didn’t fool either vampire; she had been just fine up to the moment she talked to Spike about her feelings for him. It was clear she was just trying to avoid him, avoid them both maybe.

Tara had stopped by Revello Drive, and had told Buffy that something was going on with Manon, though she refused to say what was wrong. The Wicca was supposing that she felt lonely, being so far from her country and having no one her own age around. Buffy had nodded, not mentioning the other reason the kid had to feel lonely and sad, and promised to stop by after sunset.

She knocked softly and heard some scrambling inside the bedroom, then the door opened, revealing a pale looking, red eyed Manon. The young Slayer stared at her elder for a second before turning her back and going to sit on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. Taking the behavior as an invitation to come in, Buffy did just that, carefully closing the door behind her. Pulling a wooden chair away from the desk, she turned it around and sat astride it, her arms resting on the back.

“He told you, didn’t he?” Manon asked in a whisper, studying a suddenly very interesting spot on the wall behind Buffy.

“Told me you have feelings for him?” Buffy replied gently. “He didn’t need to. I knew before him. Men can be so clueless sometimes.”

A very small shiver ran through the girl’s body, and she seemed to hold the pillow a little tighter. Without vampire’s ears, Buffy might not have understood the so quiet murmur that came next.

“Are you angry against me?”

Buffy shook her head slowly, smiling kindly at Manon.

“No, I’m not angry. I do realize you didn’t choose to fall for him. And I am sorry for you. Falling in love is a wonderful thing, but sometimes it hurts so much it feels like it’s not worth it. Believe me, I know how it hurts. But I also know it gets better with time.”

Manon’s closed expression showed quite plainly that she doubted it would stop hurting, but she didn’t comment on that.

“What about…what about Spike?” she asked instead, hesitantly. “Is he angry?”

Again, Buffy shook her head. “No one is angry, Manon. We’re just worried for you. You can’t stay in this apartment forever. The Scoobies are going to the Bronze tonight. It’s a club, there’s music and dancing and lots of young people. If you’re going to stay in Sunnydale, maybe you can find friends your own age. Do you want to come with us?”

Buffy gave the girl a moment to think, watching as she nibbled her thumbnail absently.

“He’ll be there, won’t he?” she finally asked with a sigh.

“Yes, he will. But no one will embarrass you in any way. You’ll have face him eventually, you know. And yes, it will be awkward. But you two can be friends like you were before. And with time it will get better, I promise.”

The girl’s features relaxed very slightly, and Buffy repressed a smile, certain that she was going to accept. But she was surprised when she said, still very quiet, but with the barest hint of defiance in her voice.

“I tried to kiss him, you know.”

A flash of white-hot jealousy ran through Buffy, and she had the sudden urge to vamp out and shout ‘mine’. She repressed the instinct though, promising herself a little talk with her Mate. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a kiss. But for Manon’s sake, she just nodded, keeping her features smooth.

“He got so scared,” Manon continued, “he fell off the bench.”

A very small, hesitant smile flickered on her lips, and Buffy grinned in return.

“Looks like you found a new weapon against vampires”, she joked, happy to see the girl’s smile get just a little bolder. “So, will you come with us?”

Manon took a deep breath, and replied simply: “OK”.

“Good!” Buffy exclaimed as she got to her feet. “I’ll see you there then.”

She took a couple of steps to the door, but hesitated, frowning slightly.

“Kidding aside,” she said in a serious tone, “stakes are way more efficient than kisses against vampires. And as a member of the ‘been there, done that’ club, I really don’t recommend you get too friendly with the undead. Spike and I are the only ones who aren’t a threat to you. For any other vamp, your blood is a delicacy. Please don’t forget that.”

* * * * *

Sitting by himself at a table, Spike was sipping on a distressingly bad beer and keeping an eye on his Mate. She was presently on the dance floor with the Harrises and the Witches, dancing to something that could barely be called music as far as he was concerned. Still, he could watch her dance all night. He had done it in the past. The good thing now was that he would go home with her and not find himself alone come morning.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” a hesitant Manon asked as she sat down at the table, leaving an empty seat between them.

She had gone a little moment before to get another diet coke, and had lingered for a while with a group of teenagers who looked somewhere around her age.

“’Could ask you the same thing, Bit,” he replied with a careful smile. “Don’t your new friends dance?”

“They do, but I have no idea how to dance to that kind of music, so I passed.”

He laughed softly. “Can you keep a secret?”

At Manon’s puzzled nod, he continued on in a conspirator’s tone: “I can’t dance to that either. Actually, I’d say what all these people do is bouncing up and down, not dancing.”

She gave him a true grin, and he mentally cheered. The evening had been pretty tense so far between the two of them, each not too sure how to act toward the other. But as his Slayer had told him earlier, they had to face each other eventually.

A boy from the group Manon had been talking with a moment before approached her and asked her to dance. She started to refuse, protesting softly that she didn’t know how, and Spike motioned to her to go.

“Just try it, Bit. At your age, I’m sure you can catch on to their so-called dancing pretty quickly. Have fun.”

She relented and got to her feet, but before walking away she gave him an amused smile – second cheer.

“You know, that nickname you call me?”

“Bit?”

“Yes, that… There’s that word in French, said the same way but with an e at the end… Maybe you can call me something else?”

With that, she joined the kid who had asked her on the dance floor, leaving Spike perplexed. It took him a moment to figure out what she meant, and when he did he burst out laughing, startling a couple of people who were passing by. He definitely had to find some other name for her.

He was still chuckling when Buffy and Anya came back to the table, but he declined to explain the cause of his hilarity. Xander shortly joined them with more refreshments and his Slayer chatted with the two humans for a while. Spike himself kept mostly quiet, still slightly resentful about the reaction of the Scoobies a few nights before. He had been burnt once, trying to see them all as friends, he wouldn’t make that mistake twice. The band started playing a slow song. Rising from his chair, Spike caught Buffy’s gaze as he offered his hand to her, and she smiled as she took it. He wouldn’t be caught dead – or alive, or undead, whatever the case – dancing to the stuff that had been playing earlier, but slow, he could do. And with Buffy, more than eagerly.

In the now dimmed lights, they stepped onto the dance floor, bodies, arms and hands finding immediately comfortable and familiar positions as they started to rock to the slow beat. His forehead resting against Buffy’s, Spike could block everything out until all that was left was her. The changing color of her eyes, her subtle and comforting scent, the softness of her skin where his fingers had slipped under her short top at the small of her back. So much, in such a small package, and all for him. Unhurriedly, her mouth came up to meet his, touching gently, chastely, a caress more than a kiss. Similarly slowly and softly, his lips moved to her chin, along her jaw, traveling down her throat to the silk scarf that encircled her neck. Nuzzling it aside, he managed to reach what she was hiding from the world, just like his own collar hid his most recent scars. Except that these marks he licked and nibbled sensuously wouldn’t fade, they would always claim her as his. He felt her body shiver against him, and grinned against her skin, continuing his ministrations as he felt more than heard the quietest purr rise from his Mate.

Nothing existed but the two of them, and Spike only wished this moment could last forever. But all too soon, it ended. Buffy tensed in his embrace, and he abandoned her neck, his head coming up to see what was troubling her. Just as he followed her gaze, she extricated herself from his arms. Understanding what had alarmed her, he followed her around the dancing couples to the edge of the dance floor, where Manon was standing, hugging herself, shivering, in front of the same boy she had danced with earlier, and who was now glaring at her as he wiped his bleeding nose.

“What happened?” Buffy asked in that commanding tone of hers.

“She hit me,” the boy grunted, gesturing toward Manon. “For no reason. Bitch.”

Acting on instinct alone, Spike grabbed the boy’s neck, controlling the pressure of his hand to scare him without hurting.

“I think you owe an apology to the lady,” he hissed. “For what you just called her and for whatever you did to make her hit you.”

The flailing kid stuttered what might have been an apology, but still Spike wasn’t letting go, making sure the idiot was scared enough, until Buffy’s hand gently closed on his wrist. Giving the boy a last glare with eyes he knew were more gold than blue, he trailed after Buffy, who, an arm around Manon, was leading the girl back to their table. He listened distractedly as the young Slayer told her elder that the jerk had been insistently laying his hands on inappropriate places as they danced despite her requests that he cease, arguing to her that, being French, she had to be used to more than innocent touches. Manon had started to get away from him, he had tried to hold her back, and Slayer’s instincts had kicked in.

As they all sat at the table, Buffy was telling the young woman not to worry about it, and that there were stupid people in every country. All the while, Spike was mentally cursing himself in all the languages he knew. Not only had he insisted that she dance with that bloody idiot, but, reacting without thinking, he had just done something that amounted to defending her honor. And by the furtive looks she was giving him every time Buffy wasn’t looking, he had just added one more item to her list of reasons to fancy him. Just what he needed.

Hell, his unlife used to be so much easier when fighting and killing was the only interaction he had with Slayers. Being in love wasn’t any harder than being enemies, or at least it wasn’t now, but how was he supposed to be friends with a Slayer?

* * * * *

A few days before, if Spike had defended her like this, Manon might have grown hopeful. But now, she knew better than that. It didn’t mean anything to him; he would have done the same for any of the others. She just wished she could say it meant nothing to her.

Not very long after the bloodied nose incident, she had left the club with the two vampires to go patrol. It had been Buffy’s idea, and Manon had caught Spike’s brief frown when she suggested it. He hadn’t seemed happy at all to go patrolling with the two Slayers. Manon herself didn’t mind so much. She had missed him for the two days she had spent at Willow and Tara’s. Seeing him, now that she knew for sure that she didn’t stand a chance in hell, was painful, true, but at the same time strangely nice. For most of the evening, he had been playing along, treating her no differently than he had before he knew what she felt for him. And then that stupid boy had ruined the night. After that, Spike had avoided talking to her, wasn’t even looking at her. And before they reached the closest cemetery, he had excused himself, declaring that he was going to scout demon bars and see if he could find any interesting information there. Manon wasn’t stupid; she understood he had left so that he wouldn’t be around her. And it hurt, just as much as when he had rejected her. It hurt, because Buffy had said they could still be friends, and Manon had believed it, hoped it. But it was clear now that the bleached blonde vamp didn’t care much for that idea. He even preferred to be away from Buffy for a little while – and if two people were inseparable, it was them – rather than patrolling with both Slayers.

No, just being friends would never work. Avoiding him completely wasn’t possible either. That left one choice for Manon to ponder. She had toyed with the idea a little, being around the Witches and their books as well as magical stuff had made it seem normal. While she was alone in the apartment, she had gone through their old books, almost as a game at first, just to see if there even was something in there that would help. To her own surprise, she had found a spell. She hadn’t seriously considered it until now, it had just been something to occupy her mind. But maybe it was the solution, after all.

Chapter 15 - Tactics

“Tonight. Tonight the Slayer will be on campus and the vampire will patrol. The other girl doesn’t live with them or patrol anymore, so he will be alone. Tonight we capture Hostile 17.”

Riley wasn’t smiling as he gave his men their orders. This was all business, just like the capture of any other demon. Nothing else but business. A bit more delicate than usual, maybe, because they needed this particular vampire more than the others, and because of his link with Buffy. But she wouldn’t be there for him to hide behind her tonight, and he would be defenseless when they caught him. And she would finally be delivered from the influence of the monster.

Nothing but business, but it did feel good.

Tonight.

* * * * *

“Don’t feel like training today, luv. I’ll just stay home and catch up with the Passions marathon. You go and have fun.”

As Spike said so in his most casual voice, Buffy looked at him quizzically. Her hand came to rest on his forehead.

“Nope,” she announced very seriously. “No fever.”

“Very funny, pet,” he said with a wry grin.

She curled on the sofa by his side, and his smile softened as her fingers danced on the back of his hand. She turned his hand over; exposing the inside of his wrist and the two pale marks she had left there. She caressed them softly, sending a delightful shiver through his body. If she didn’t stop now, she might not get to train today either…

“The one and only time I’ve heard you say you didn’t want to spar before,” she said after a couple of seconds, “you were all human and soulful. You didn’t go and get one behind my back, did you?”

There was teasing in her voice, as well as a little worry. Things changed. Before he turned her, she repeated to him often enough that he was just a soulless thing. Now, she was his lover, and didn’t want him to have a soul. And because she was his, he didn’t need one. He had hers.

“No soul”, he assured her. “As I said, I just want to catch up with the show.”

“You haven’t watched it in years”, she pointed out.

He didn’t need to, he thought to himself. Why would he watch the telly when his own unlife was more of a soap opera every day? He kept that to himself, though; Buffy might not see the humor in that.

“Just felt like watching it again,” he grumbled, pulling his wrist away from her still teasing touch.

At the edge of his vision, he could see her nibbling on her bottom lip, and had the sudden urge to do it himself.

“I really thought you two could be friends,” she finally said, all the teasing gone from her voice. “She needs to train and learn all the tricks if she wants to survive; she can’t do that without us.”

He turned to face her, his hand cupping her chin of its own will. There was care and worry in the emerald gems. Some of it was for him, he knew, but some was for the kid too. For whatever reason, she felt responsible for the younger Slayer. And it was still a surprise that she didn’t hold it against her that the kid had feelings for him. Hell, he wouldn’t have let her go anywhere near anyone who claimed to love her… and this was nothing but a big lie. They had been around the poof often enough, and Spike knew it was as awkward for her to be around Angel as it was for him to be around Manon.

“She can train with you,” he said softly. “Patrol, too. As much as I hate not being there with you, it is just easier that way, for everybody.”

He saw the slight shake of her head, and the rebellious glint in her eyes. He pressed a finger to her lips, shushing her before she could say a word.

“Please, Childe”, he whispered. “Don’t argue now. If you have to go train, then go. I am not coming, and nothing you can say will change that.”

He called her ‘Childe’ very rarely, and most of the time it was a way to let her know how serious he was, how sure that she should listen to his opinion. She seemed to understand it was useless to argue about it.

“OK”, she sighed. “No training. What about tonight’s patrol?”

“You don’t have class anymore, do you?”

She shook her head slightly.

“Either you patrol with her and I go my own way,” he suggested, “or you give her the night off. As you wish.”

Again, she sighed softly as she stood.

“I’ll ask her,” she said with a shrug. “Gotta go now. Be good, my evil fiend.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before walking out of the living room, calling back over her shoulder as she left:

“It’s all your fault, you know. If you weren’t so attractive and sexy and funny and caring and lovable, this would not be happening.”

“I’ll work on it, luv”, he called back. “Will try my best to be as boring, rude, dumb, and unsexy as possible.”

He laughed quietly as he heard her come back to him. She planted herself in front of him, hands or her hips, her glare too mild to mean anything.

“Don’t you dare change a thing”, she admonished him, shaking a finger.

Again, she kissed him before leaving. But where before it had been just a brush of her lips, this time it was fire and passion, bruising. It was all he could do not to run after her and convince her that training could wait.

* * * * *

Manon had seemed a little disappointed when Buffy told her Spike wouldn’t train with them, but not really surprised. She hadn’t commented on it either, to Buffy’s relief. Now that would have been interesting. The fiancée explaining to the crushed girl why the object of both their affections wasn’t feeling comfortable around her. Awkward didn’t even begin to describe it.

What surprised Buffy most actually was that, as both Spike and Manon had inquired, she wasn’t upset by it all. She knew in her whole being that Spike had done nothing to lead on the girl; all he had ever done was be himself. And she knew also, from a very personal knowledge, that love didn’t allow anyone to pick and choose the best person for them. It wasn’t Manon’s fault that she had fallen for someone she would never get. Of course, if the girl did anything – anything at all – to try and seduce Spike anyway now that he had made it clear to her he wasn’t interested, then Buffy would get cranky. Very, very cranky. But as long as all the kid did was look from afar, Buffy wasn’t worried. And it seemed like she was sensible enough not to do anything.

The sun hadn’t set yet when Spike walked in through the shop’s entrance door, hiding under a lightly smoking blanket. Buffy would never get used to seeing him do that, just as she wouldn’t let herself be convinced to do it unless there was a life threatening emergency.

She and Manon had stopped training a little while before. The kid was still in the training room, practicing breathing and meditation exercises by herself. Spike’s eyes quickly scanned the room as he got in and came, smiling, toward the table where Buffy was sitting. He was however intercepted by Anya before he reached his Mate.

“I’d complain about you frightening customers when you do your smoking blanket routine,” she said with pronounced annoyance, standing hands on her hips right in front of him“, but that never stopped you before.”

He smirked at her. “Glad to see you too, demon girl.”

Buffy couldn’t hide a grin as he tried to walk around Anya to reach the table but she again stepped in front of him.

“I’m not done with you,” she said, poking a finger at his chest. “I can’t work without a date so you’ll have to give me an answer. When?”

His eyes widened as he stared at Anya, obviously baffled by her tirade, and as he glanced at her Buffy took pity on him. Rising from her seat, she came to Spike, her arm finding its way around him by its own will.

“Anya just volunteered to help us plan the wedding,” she explained, keeping to herself that ‘demanded’ was more accurate than ‘volunteered’. “She wants to know when it will take place.”

If possible, his eyes widened a trifle more.

“’Didn’t think about it,” he admitted, looking at Buffy a little sheepishly. “What do you think, luv?”

“It all depends on how many people you’re inviting,” Anya cut in. “And where you want to do it, too; some places need to be reserved years in advance. And you need to be thinking about the caterer, the band, and the florist. Oh, and the colors! Have you decided on colors? Or a theme?”

Shaking her head imperceptibly, Buffy tore her eyes from Anya, who was getting more excited by the second, and glanced at Spike, stifling a giggle as she noticed the look of horror that was creeping up on his face.

“We will talk about it, Anya,” the Slayer promised, trying to calm her friend. “We’ll decide on some of these things and we’ll tell you as soon as we make a decision, OK?”

“Just decide quick,” Anya said with a nod and a bright smile. “Then we can plan out the bridal shower and baby shower so they are not too close in time, that way we are all more likely to get better and more expensive presents.”

Having made her point, Anya strode toward a customer who had just entered the shop, leaving the two vampires to stare at her retreating back.

“How about eloping, pet?” Spike said in a whisper. “The car is just outside, overnight bags ready. We can be in Las Vegas before the night is over and escape the hell demon-girl is planning for us.”

Buffy knew – or rather, she believed – that he was joking, but at the moment eloping sounded like the best idea ever. Anya did seem to take this just as seriously as her own wedding planning. What Spike had just said however threw her off track.

“Car and bags ready?” she repeated, frowning slightly. “What for?”

“Dawn called. She needs a ride back. ‘Thought we could spend the night in LA since I suppose you want to have a little chat with her. And I need to talk to Peaches.”

Buffy wanted to ask what he wanted to talk about with Angel, but she kept quiet. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her. If it was private, she didn’t want to intrude.

A talk with Dawn… The prospect wasn’t very engaging, and Buffy almost would have endured a night of Anya’s wedding planning bliss instead of facing her sister. She was the one who had reacted the worst to the news that she was a vampire again; she had even practically run away. But then, they would need to talk about it eventually. Spike seemed to have sensed her sudden gloominess, because he started to rub her back lightly, soothingly.

“The sun has set”, he pointed out softly. “Ready to go, luv?”

“I guess we can skip patrol just this once”, she nodded. “It’s awfully calm lately anyway. I’ll go tell Manon…”

Her voice trailed off as she felt the presence of the young Slayer entering the room. She and Spike faced the girl as she approached them.

“Good evening Spike,” she said, her tone too neutral not to be carefully controlled.

“Hi kid,” Spike replied with a hint of a nod.

“You’re off patrol duty for the night”, Buffy informed her. “Spike and I are leaving for LA until tomorrow.”

“I can patrol alone,” Manon said with a shrug, her eyes flickering between Buffy and Spike. “I’ve done it before.”

“I’d rather you don’t,” Buffy said. “Andrea asked us to take care of you, and I’d hate for her to dust me because I let something happen to you.”

“I am not a kid, whatever you all think. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Arms crossed angrily and lips pouting, she did look like a kid ready to throw a temper tantrum, and Buffy rolled her eyes at her.

“When I was your age, I would have paid to get a night off. Enjoy it while you can!”

Still, the girl was sulking, untouched by her elder’s words.

“We don’t have time for your games,” Spike snapped, glaring at her. “Get your things and we’ll drive you to the Witches’.”

Surprisingly, Manon didn’t protest. She blushed brightly, ducked her head, and went to grab her jacket and purse behind the counter. She didn’t say a word on the ride back to her temporary home, barely whispering a ‘goodbye’ when she got out of the car.

“So,” Buffy commented as they drove away, “is that a new tactic? Make her hate you by being mean to her?”

His reply was the very last thing she would have expected. “If that’s what it takes.”

Chapter 16 - Life’s only still in drawings

“They left town, sir.”

“They what?”

“Summers didn’t go to the college, and the vampire didn’t patrol. They left together, we have a vehicle following them and it looks like they’re going to LA.”

A dozen expletives ran through Riley’s mind, none of them the kind he would let slip where anyone could hear. Of all times, they had to choose this night to take a little trip!

“Keep an eye on them, wherever they’re going,” he instructed the soldier. “If the vampire is alone, and can be secured without her knowledge, remove him. If not, we’ll wait until they come back.”

That was, of course, assuming they would come back. If it was only up to Buffy, Riley had little doubt they would; she took her duty to protect Sunnydale very seriously. But she was under the vampire’s thrall, so he could only hope. Hope for the good of the mission, as well as for more personal reasons

* * * * *

When they arrived at the Hyperion, Buffy and Spike found the hotel mostly deserted, except for one of Angel’s employees, Fred, who was perusing heavy leather bound books. Research in LA looked frighteningly similar to research in Sunnydale. From what the girl said, the other members of Angel Investigations were out gathering information in the field. Buffy itched to go out and help, more to delay her encounter with Dawn than for any other reason, but Spike’s slight head shaking wasn’t needed to remind her of a little incident a few months back. She and Spike had gone out, unbidden, to help Angel, and when they had found him he had been quite… explicit about them waiting at the hotel the next time he wasn’t there when they arrived. Vehemently explicit.

It seemed that Dawn at least was there, currently in Steven’s room – where else? As she was leaving Spike in the office with the woman, he sat down on the edge of the desk, picked up the book and asked Fred what it was she was looking for. She hadn’t asked for help, and he hadn’t really proposed, but he would help anyway, and that brought a small smile to Buffy’s lips as she climbed the stairs. There had been a time when Spike had found it very amusing to annoy a person doing any kind of research, just for the sake of getting on their nerves. And now he helped, without even being asked to. Of course, if she pointed it out, he would claim he was just passing time, and wasn’t really helping anyway. But she knew better. And she would have to remind him later how wonderful she thought he was.

The door of Steven’s room was partially open, and when Buffy lightly knocked it opened further in front of her, revealing Dawn sitting at the desk, writing in what Buffy knew was her diary. The teen’s eyes came up to her sister, the barest frown barring her forehead.

“Hey there,” Buffy said quietly.

“Hi. I told Spike I needed a ride tomorrow, not tonight.”

Interesting start, Buffy thought wryly. She might as well have said she didn’t want to see them. As she came further into the room, Buffy’s gaze traveled to the drawings that graced the walls.

“Don’t worry,” she said blankly. “We’ll stay here until tomorrow night. You won’t be alone with the big bad vamps until then.”

Talking about big bad vamps… One of the drawings, surrounded by a light gray wood frame, represented a woman and her child. Darla & Connor, the inscription read. She looked so peaceful on this drawing, almost as innocent as her baby. Appearances could be so deceptive.

“What bad vamps?” Dawn asked, her tone lightly teasing. “Because, if you haven’t noticed, you and Spike are more badly whipped than big bads.”

Another drawing showed a young woman, smiling graciously, eyes sparkling. The whole picture expressed love and tenderness. Buffy couldn’t help grinning faintly at that, wondering when Angel had ever seen Dawn like this. She was much more likely to scowl in his presence than smile.

“Who are you calling whipped?” Buffy asked, pointing to the drawing.

For the first time, hazel and blue eyes met. The mischievous light in the blue ones died pretty quick however, and Dawn let out a soft sigh.

“You want to talk?”

“Do we have something to talk about?” Buffy replied, her voice expressionless.

The teen rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said with a hint of exasperation. “Close the door behind you when you go then.”

She turned back to the desk and her diary, but Buffy didn’t leave, returning instead to her study of the pictures. A smaller one caught her interest. It showed Steven and opposite him Spike, both carrying swords, poised for attack and defense.

“I’ve been a vamp for three years,” Buffy said very low, a finger hovering above the small figure of her Sire on the heavy cream paper. “It never seemed to bother you before. So why does it upset you now?”

She heard the chair move behind her, as if Dawn had pulled it away from the desk, but she did not turn toward her sister, her eyes remaining on the drawing.

“I’m not upset,” the teen replied. “Not anymore. I mean, I was really… stunned. One day, you’re a human, the next day you’re a vamp. And you were so happy when you became human again. And I was so happy for you too…”

Repressing a sigh, Buffy turned to face Dawn, unsurprised at finding her eyes shiny with tears.

“I am still happy, Dawn. It’s my choice. Being a vamp isn’t as dreadful as you seem to think.”

“But there are so many things you can’t have”, Dawn murmured. “When you were a vamp before, it was a matter of being dead or undead, so I didn’t feel too guilty. But this time you could have remained alive, you could have had a normal life and kids and everything.”

Buffy was about to try and explain that she would never have anything close to a normal life, not as long as she was the Slayer and Spike was in her life, but then she realized what Dawn had said, and she frowned in confusion.

“Guilty? Why on earth would you feel guilty?”

Dawn’s gaze dropped to the floor, and Buffy came to her, placing a finger under her chin and tilting her head back up.

“Spill.”

Dawn swallowed heavily, before saying, her voice hesitating slightly:

“When you were ill… when you were at the hospital… I went to see Spike a few times. I told him how sick you were and that it wasn’t fair that you were dying again… that I couldn’t bear to lose you a second time… I never really asked him to … but… I’m pretty sure he did it at least in part for me. Because of me. And the night he took you away, I could have stopped him if I had wanted. I just know he would have stopped if I had asked him to... But I didn’t. I knew what he was going to do and I let him take you. I wanted him to.”

Her confession over, tears started to roll down Dawn’s cheeks. Without thinking, Buffy kneeled in front of her, taking both her hands in hers.

“Listen to me, Dawnie”, she managed to say despite the emotion that had her shaking. “You have nothing to feel guilty for. Even if you had asked him to do it, you still wouldn’t be at fault. Spike may act like a kid sometimes, but he is adult, and he makes his own choices. And so do I. If being a vamp was so horrible, do you think I would have willingly become one again?”

She brushed a strand of hair away from Dawn’s cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

“There are things I will never have, true,” she continued. “But I have other things that a human cannot even imagine. I am closer to Spike than I’ve ever been to anyone, and that means more to me than I can explain. Do not feel sorry for me, Dawn. Because I am not sorry. I don’t regret being what I am, and I never did.”

Slowly, understanding made its way on Dawn’s face, and she smiled faintly through her tears. She didn’t say a word, but pressed lightly Buffy’s hand in hers, and nodded. These simple gestures warmed Buffy’s heart. Everything would be OK now.

* * * * *

The apartment had so many candles that it hadn’t been hard for Manon to borrow a few of them. Same thing for the herbs, the Witches had a supply just as complete as the Magic Box, and she had managed to take what she needed without either woman noticing. The bedroom wasn’t big, but by moving the desk a little she had cleared enough space to form a circle of candles large enough for her to sit in. She had memorized the words of the spell, and what herbs to burn and when. All she needed now was to gather the courage to start. Because once this was done, everything would be different. But after the way Spike had talked to her tonight, things had to change. She just hoped it would be for the best.

Chapter 17 - Humans, Vampires, and Souls

Spike was still going over moldy books when Angel, Steven, and Gunn returned and made the research null and void. They had found whatever they had been looking for, and they had killed it, the only normal human of the trio wearing slimy proof of it. Fred disappeared with Gunn, presumably to help him scrub demon remains off his back, leaving Spike with a fidgeting Steven and a mildly annoyed Angel.

“I don’t suppose you brought provisions with you?” the older brunette asked once Spike had announced his and Buffy’s intention to spend the night in LA.

“Not any more than usual, Peaches,” Spike replied with a slight smirk. “Why? Did you ditch all your blood already?”

“What would I keep it for?”

“Guests, of course.”

“Well, if the guests were courteous enough to warn that they’re coming…”

Shaking his head a little, Angel picked his car keys off the desk and made his way out.

“I’ll be back in half an hour”, he called over his shoulder. “Try not to set the hotel on fire this time.”

“I’ll try if you remember that my favorite’s O neg,” Spike shot back.

Before Angel disappeared, Spike’s acute hearing caught a few muttered words that made him chuckle.

“’Wonder why I don’t just open a vein, it would be quicker and less painful.”

Spike focused his attention back on the ex-vampire’s son, who was still acting strangely nervous.

“What’s up, kid?” he asked a bit warily.

“Can I ask you a question? Kinda personal one?”

“Try your luck; we’ll see if I care to answer.’

Steven tilted his head slightly. “Did you really ask to be a vamp?”

The question surprised Spike, because a few days before the kid hadn’t been particularly troubled by the news of the couple being revamped. At the time, he had seemed more interested in knowing about his father state of life – or unlife. The answer was a bit tricky too. Technically, Spike hadn’t asked to be back to vamphood.

“What I asked Cordelia,” he answered truthfully, “was to take my life to heal the girl. I thought that meant I’d be dead, so being back to being a vamp was definitely of the good. But I probably would have asked her later if it hadn’t happened right then.”

“Why?” the kid asked, his tone curious but not judgmental. “Why were you ready to die for her? And why did you want to be a vampire again?”

Angel had asked just before it happened, Buffy just after, but no one had bothered to inquire since. It pleased Spike immensely that Steven cared enough to want to know the reason. He motioned for him to take a seat, and sat again himself on Angel’s desk.

“When I became human,” he explained slowly“, I got my soul back. You saw the result of that.”

Steven nodded, mouthing quietly the word ‘William’, and Spike winced.

“Yes”, he sighed. “William. More or less. Not the same as when I died. Not Spike either. A mix of the two, I guess. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the guilt. A hundred years of killing was a bit too much for poor William. I was told I could work the guilt off by doing good deeds, but it was still breaking me inside. During the fight, Manon got hurt by saving my life. If she had died, it would have been one more Slayer on my conscience. One too many. It would have killed me. So, dead for dead, giving up my pulse for the girl was just logical. And I’m actually quite happy to be a vampire. I’m used to it, I enjoy it, and I even still have my Slayer with me so unlife is just perfect.”

Again, the kid nodded, more slowly this time, almost thoughtfully.

“I think I understand,” he said at last. “Not sure if congratulations are in order, but it’s good that you got what you wanted.”

Almost gratefully, Spike smiled at him.

“I’ll go see Dawn,” Steven added, returning the grin. “She always gets worried when I’m out working with dad.”

Spike warned him that Buffy was with her and that maybe they were not done talking, but the kid went anyway, saying that he could try to smooth things over if needed. For a few minutes, Spike was alone in Angel’s office, and he thought back about what he had told Steven about his human experience. It was the first time he had actually put what it had been like into words. He hadn’t talked about it with Buffy, because he hadn’t needed to. She had been there, by his side, all along. She had even faced with him the multitude of his victims. She knew. Better than he could ever explain. Better than anyone, or almost. Angel probably had a pretty good idea of what Spike had gone through too.

As if summoned by the blonde’s thoughts, the brunette returned, and handed Spike a brown paper bag.

“I am told chairs are more comfortable than desks to sit on,” he commented casually, himself sitting in his leather armchair. “And I’ll add the blood’s price to your tab.”

Shrugging, Spike got off the desk, not because he had been indirectly asked to do so, but because from this position he couldn’t see Angel behind him. Dropping the bag in one of the chairs opposite the other man, he sat in the other one, legs stretched in front of him, one booted foot resting on top of the other. They studied each other for a while, neither taking the initiative to start small talk, until Spike lit up a cigarette.

“Are you trying to kill me with second hand smoke?” Angel remarked then. “Because if you are feeling murderous, I’m sure you could find a faster way.”

Smirking, Spike blew smoke toward Angel, but then put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk.

“Wouldn’t it be fitting?” he said smugly. “You give me fangs, and a century or so later I use them to kill you. Fate is such a funny thing.”

He waited long enough for Angel to start wondering if he was serious, before adding: “Of course, I’d rather have a really good reason to off you, because the Slayer would be pissed off, and the cheerleader would probably skin me alive. Where is she, by the way? I had a few things to tell her too.”

Angel’s cheeks took a nice reddish tint, which only confirmed to Spike that something was going on there.

“The Powers called her,” he said quietly. “Other missions in other places. She said she’d be back, though.”

Spike nodded, his rant for Cordelia could wait. Right now, it was Angel he was dealing with.

“OK. First things first. Do you still consider yourself as my Sire?”

Angel blinked several times, and his eyes widened slightly in obvious astonishment that Spike could easily understand. A few seconds before, he had been casually mentioning the idea of killing the brunette, and now he was inquiring about what link existed between them. Unwilling to let Angel know the meaning he attached to this question, Spike tried to keep his features smooth and expressionless. He wanted an honest answer, not one dictated by what Angel thought he wanted to hear.

“I told you before”, Angel finally said, his voice serious and soft all at once. “You are like a son to me. An obnoxious, annoying, disrespectful one, but still a son. Still my Childe even if I’m not a vampire anymore. And you always will be.”

A weight was lifted off Spike’s shoulders by these simple words. One of the few good things about being human for a few days was that it had allowed him and Angel to put some old demons to rest and define exactly where they stood in relation to each other. He was glad the understanding still held now, but felt reluctant at having Angel know it.

“Does it mean you’ll let me sample every now and then?” he asked, his mischievous tone hiding deeper emotions.

“Don’t push it,” Angel replied, amused. “Be grateful I went to get you blood, and don’t expect I will do it again next time if you don’t warn that you’re coming.”

Spike nodded lightly. This matter having been settled, on to the next.

“Buffy and I are getting married.”

He watched for a reaction at his quiet announcement, and received a very faint smile and a slightly raised eyebrow.

“I had gotten that already,” Angel said. “I was there when you bought the ring and when you two told the gang, wasn’t I?”

“And you’ll be there for the wedding?”

A flash of surprise passed through Angel’s eyes.

“If I am invited, I will,” he replied carefully.

“Of course you are, you ponce.”

“I am torn between feeling flattered and insulted”, Angel chuckled.

There was a genuine, so very rare happy light in the brunette’s eyes, and it occurred to Spike that ever since turning human his Sire had been less prone to brooding, and more inclined to show his emotions. Definite progress on both counts.

“That’s not all,” Spike said after a few seconds, unsure how to say the rest. “If it wasn’t… if it was someone else but Buffy, this is the point where I would ask you to be my best man.”

Again, Spike could see that his words were surprising his Sire, and, again, pleasing him.

“But you’re not asking me.” Angel said, tilting his head just a little. “Why not?”

“It just would feel uncomfortable,” Spike reluctantly admitted. “Considering who you are to both Buffy and me. Awkward, for all of us.”

Slowly, Angel nodded his understanding. “Who are you asking then?”

Despite him, a light smirk came to Spike’s lips. “’Can’t say I have a lot of options, but even if I had, the choice is easy.”

“Steven?”

“Yes, Steven“.

“Did you ask him yet?”

“No, ‘ wanted to tell you why first,” Spike said, rising from his seat and picking up the butcher’s bag. “Now that I’m done, I’ll be out of your nancy-boy hair. ‘ Night, Peaches.”

“Good night, Will.”

For a second, the thought came to Spike to turn around and complain about the use of that particular nickname as it brought back unpleasant memories of a few days before. But it only took him another second to realize that for Angel it was more likely to be a reminder of their newfound peace than of his temporary insanity. So he said nothing, and just smiled as he walked away.

* * * * *

“The offering. The sacrifice. The blood. All to beg from thee that you glance upon that creature, once Chosen, now fallen. And when your eyes look away, let them keep amongst them the core of what she was, what a demon shall not have, what I implore that you take from her. For a Slayer cannot be a vampire, for a vampire cannot have a soul, let her become the beast so that the hunt can be unleashed.”

Chapter 18 - Want. Take. Have.

Sunrise wasn’t very far when Buffy woke, eyes snapping open suddenly, immediately wide awake and aware of where she was, with whom, and how many humans were close by. She couldn’t have said what had startled her awake though. There was no noise in the sleeping hotel, except for the occasional faint purr of her Sire at her side. She felt a little different, but she didn’t quite know how or why. She felt… expectant. As if something was about to happen, and everything would be changed by it. She felt hungry, too. In more ways than one. There was blood in the hotel, just waiting for her to take it, but this particular hunger could wait. Right now, there was something else her body craved. And as someone had told her once, long ago… Want. Take. Have. Come to think of it, Faith would have made a great vampire.

As she inched closer to Spike’s neck, her demon visage came forward. With her now enhanced vision, she could see the faded marks another woman had left there. Faded, but still present, as they always would be. The only good thing was that the insane one, when she had marked Spike as her Mate, had bitten nearly exactly over the first set of scars she had given him. Only by looking very closely could one tell that it was two sets of punctures, almost perfectly superimposed. Buffy usually avoided giving them too much attention, unwilling to think about Drusilla and her role in Spike’s unlife. Right now, though, she had an intense desire to cover these reminders, to erase Dru from his memory forever. It would have been even sweeter to have the woman around, see if she could be tortured back to sanity, give her a taste of holy water since she liked it so much. Yes, the brunette had definitely gotten an easy way out. Too easy.

With this thought raging in her mind, Buffy bit down roughly over the offending scars, as if by slicing through them she could obliterate them. She knew, abstractly, that it wouldn’t work, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try. She growled in delight as Spike’s blood hit her tongue, and pulled on it harder, growling again when one of his hands nestled by the back of her head while his other arm held her lazily. The power in this blood, her Sire’s blood, had her quickly lightheaded and she could just have sucked him dry, but she forced herself to stop after a few more seconds. She had other plans, other needs, and he would require at least some blood to fulfill them.

“’Morning, kitten,” he said sleepily as she lapped slowly at the wounds.

In a flash, she moved over him, one knee on each side of his body, fisted hands on each side of his head, her still vamped out face just above his.

“Do I look like a kitten?” she snarled somewhat menacingly.

Amused blue eyes plunged into fire ones, and his hands came up to cup her face.

“No, luv,” he said quietly. “You look like the woman I adore.”

With that, he pulled her down to his mouth, starting a soft and sensuous kiss. Immediately however, Buffy thrust her tongue past his lips, demanding and obtaining something fiercer, hotter, uncaring that her fangs nipped both their lips and tongues in the process.

As the kiss lingered, Buffy started rubbing her body over Spike’s, satisfied to instantly discover the proof that she had not stolen all of his blood, since he still had enough to be very nicely hard. He was not the only one affected, her body felt as if it was on fire, and she was more than ready for him. Pulling away from his lips, she sat up and lost no time guiding him inside her. She sighed in contentment at the glorious feel of him, and started rocking her hips, rising until he was almost slipping out, then slamming back down as she contracted her internal muscles again and again. His hands were not idle as she concentrated on her rhythm, one holding on to her hip hard enough to leave a bruise, the other kneading roughly her needy breast. All too soon, the tension was becoming unbearable; she just needed something else, something more.

“Please”, she gasped, unsure what she was pleading for. “Please, baby…”

His face morphed and he raised himself from the bed, his mouth closing over a nipple that was so hard it hurt, his fangs piercing on each side of the areola as he startled suckling. As he did so, his eyes looked up at Buffy, and even in this demon form she could see his love for her in the molten gold. It was too much, and she shut her eyes tight to block the sight. A wordless shout rose from her throat as a violent orgasm shook her and started in her a fire that the cool spill of her lover only fueled further.

Gasping for unneeded breath, she let herself lie over him, nuzzling his neck as he nuzzled hers, only realizing when a fang grazed his skin that she was still wearing her game face.

* * * * *

At that moment, Spike was ready to die and go to hell, because he knew heaven, and he had experienced it often enough for the memories to last him until the end of eternity. But if he wasn’t going to be dust quite yet, he sure wouldn’t mind a few more servings.

He had been rubbing his face to the crook of his Slayer’s neck for a little while, enjoying the light pressure of her body on top of his, when she said:

“You remember what we were talking about, about having Riley watch?”

An annoyed growl, muffled against satin skin, was Spike’s only reply.

“I just had an even better idea,” she continued, oblivious to his warning that her ex wasn’t exactly a good topic for pillow talk. “Care to hear about it?”

Again, Spike growled, this time completing the thought with words. “If you insist on talking about Captain Cardboard when we’re in bed, it better be very, very painful for him, luv.”

Buffy chuckled a little, her fingers tugging at Spike’s bleached locks playfully.

“Painful, that’s the idea, yes. I was thinking, since he enjoyed being vamp snack, you and I could show him it can be not so pleasant. Like, test biting on various body parts to see where it hurts more. Then when we’ve taken him to just an inch from death, almost drained but not quite, we do very naughty things in front of him while he’s too weak to do anything but watch. If he dies, the last thing he’s seen is us fucking. But if he doesn’t die, we give him a day or two to recuperate and we start all over again. Almost drain him, give him a show, and see if this time he dies or not. And all over again until he does. What do you think?”

Pulling away from her neck just enough to see her face, Spike observed the woman who had shared his bed and unlife for three years. She was still in game face, and returning his gaze with fiery eyes that threatened to consume him. If he hadn’t known her so well, he could almost have believed she was serious as she talked of killing the wanker. To tell the truth, hearing her talk like this, the image of them hunting, feeding together, had always had a certain appeal. And if he had wanted to hide these feelings from her, it was too late, because listening to her he had grown hard in her depths again, revealing quite clearly what he thought of her idea. Was it a test? What was he supposed to say? She couldn’t really expect him to protest against the thought of her ex dying a very painful death, right? It was just that, a thought. Words. Nothing more.

Unsure of what she expected from him, he decided not to say anything, and instead started rocking under her, slowly, burying himself progressively deeper. As before, she urged him to go faster, harder. Rolling them so that he was now above her, he complied, never one to refuse his lady, and soon they were back to the same wild, primal rhythm as before.

* * * * *

When Spike collapsed on top of her, Buffy was still shaking from the intensity of her climaxes, and they each had their fangs in the other’s shoulder. For a moment, they remained immobile, then slowly, wordlessly, they tended each other’s bite marks.

Buffy was pleased at her Mate’s reaction when she had talked about torturing Riley. He hadn’t killed in so long, she had been afraid he might be reluctant. But if just talking about it brought forth such a wild, intense coupling, she couldn’t wait to see what actually doing it would do to his never faltering libido.

Now that this particular need had been fulfilled, and despite the amount of blood she had taken from her Sire, she was hungry. Warm blood sounded very appealing at the moment. She managed to pull away from her lover’s embrace, smiling when he protested at the loss of contact.

“Feeling peckish, baby,” she explained as she trailed her lips and tongue over the lightly bleeding marks her nails had inflicted to his back. “I’ll bring you back something to eat, OK?”

He rolled to his side as she walked toward the door and she could physically feel his eyes roaming over her nude body.

“Luv?” he said, slightly amused, “would you do me a favor and put something on? Don’t fancy anyone looking at you like this. You’re mine and I don’t share, not even the sight of you.”

She had turned back to look at him, and a delightful shiver ran through her when he said the word ‘mine’ with a hint of gold piercing in his eyes. Complying to the wishes of her Sire, she slipped on a bathrobe that was by the bathroom’s door, closing it modestly over her. Blowing a kiss to him from the tip of her fingers, she stepped out and, licking her lips in advance, made her way toward Angel’s room.

Chapter 19 - First date

The extended Council, which gathered every single Watcher present in London, including Watchers in training, had been divided in small groups, each of them focusing on a particular topic under the supervision of a member of the High Council. No replacement to Quentin Travers had been designated yet, and none would until a new charter had been adopted to establish what was already called the New Council.

Andrea and Giles, because they were responsible for the turn events had taken, had been asked to go from group to group to observe the work in progress. Giles wasn’t fooled by the maneuver, and understood that it was just a way to make sure they did not gain too much influence within one particular group.

A while before, he had seen Andrea leave the group she was supposedly observing and enter her father’s former office. Wondering what she was doing there, and bored senseless from listening to discussions about how to recruit Watchers more effectively, Giles eventually managed to follow her. When he entered the room, she was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the massive desk, very still and apparently so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t acknowledge his presence until he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Rupert, I didn’t hear you come in,” she said almost apologetically.

“I see that,” he replied. “What were you thinking about so intensely, if I may ask?”

She rose from the chair and leaned against the desk, facing Giles.

“I am just wondering where my father is now,” she said quietly, a slightly worried tone in her voice. “I wish the Council had decided to keep an eye on him. He is very much capable of rallying the Watchers that did not witness his demise and to create a new group to work against us. He knows so much about the Council of Watchers, he could easily destroy it if he wanted to.”

Giles nodded thoughtfully. Andrea had expressed pretty much the same ideas three days before in front of the High Council, and so had he, but despite all that they had recently learned about him, no one had believed that the ex head watcher would go as far as to destroy what he had worked for during most of his life. All they knew now was that Travers had left London, and they only knew that because Andrea had tried to visit him and been informed by her old nanny of his departure.

“If he does try to strike at us,” Giles said with more confidence than he really felt, “we will counter him. His reign is over. Do not worry yourself too much over him.”

As Andrea gave him a small smile, Giles felt suddenly compelled to clean his spotless glasses. Not watching her directly might help for what he wanted to say next.

“I was wondering if you would like… that is, there is a very nice restaurant just a few streets away… we’ve all been working so hard for the last few days that a little quiet time…”

That didn’t quite sound like the elegant line he had practiced, but she seemed to understand the point behind the hesitations.

“I’d be glad to, Rupert. It would be a nice change to talk of something else than work. That is, if you want to.”

Was he imagining things or was there suddenly a little more red in her cheeks? Of course, he was still pointlessly rubbing his glasses, so he might have been mistaken. Replacing them on his nose, he buried his hands in his pockets and tried not to fidget too much.

“Talking would be delightful. With you, I mean. Of other things. Or anything, actually.”

To his own ears, he sounded more than pathetic. He hadn’t had so much trouble asking a woman on a first date in… never, as a matter of fact. Not that he had done it very often, but it seemed to get even more difficult as he aged. Shaking his head lightly, he couldn’t help chuckling a little, amused as much as annoyed by his own clumsiness.

“You must think I’m a perfect idiot,” he said self-deprecatingly. “Here I am, a grown man, barely able to ask a lady to dinner without tripping over my own tongue. Pitiful.”

“Idiot or pitiful are not words I would ever apply to you,” Andrea replied with an indulgent smile. “Hesitant, maybe, or even shy, but then, in this particular domain, so am I.”

It was a strange admission, coming from the mouth of a woman who had the reputation of never being intimidated by anything or anyone.

“Things should get easier when we know each other better,” Giles said hopefully.

After all, they had really met just a few weeks earlier. Before that, they had barely ever exchanged anything more than salutations.

“Probably”, Andrea agreed very low, and again she was slightly blushing. “Though I wish we were already there. This way I wouldn’t have to wonder whether you will kiss me tonight.”

For a second, Giles stared at the woman in front of him, who was watching him levelly in return, despite the redness of her cheeks and her previous claims of shyness.

“If it might help,” he said, entering her game after clearing his throat, “I can admit that I am very likely to at least try.”

“Only try?” she asked, a delicate eyebrow arching questioningly as she took a step toward him.

“Well, if I knew whether my attempt will be welcome or not…”

“Oh, it will be welcome, have no doubt.”

As she grinned, halfway between seducing and shy, Giles realized how close she was now. So close that her perfume, a light rose fragrance, enveloped him. So close that he could see the fast beating of her pulse point, in total contrast to her apparent calm. The lady knew how to bluff, he thought with a touch of admiration. But then, so could he. He gave her his very best Ripper smirk.

“Why wait tonight then?” he whispered, and closed the distance that separated their lips.

* * * * *

Silent as a hunting tigress, Buffy walked past Steven’s room, pausing for a second to make sure no one was stirring inside. Later, she would have time to deal with the two teens. Steven, she thought, might do quite well as a vamp; he already knew how to fight and only needed time to be as good as Angel or Spike. Dawn, on the other hand, with her whining and her weaknesses, would do a nice meal, but no more. Maybe Buffy would bring her to her Sire as a snack later.

Finally, she reached Angel’s room. There was some noise coming from inside, indicating that he was awake. Without knocking, she opened it and slipped in, locking the door behind her. She didn’t want to be interrupted.

As she stepped inside his room, in the small hours of the morning, clad only in a bathrobe, Angel froze where he stood next to the bed. All he wore was a black pair of pants, and he was drying his hair with a towel. To say that he looked startled was quite an understatement.

“Buffy?” he asked, the worry evident in his voice. “Is something wrong?”

Unconsciously, she moistened her lips as her eyes traveled over him. She had forgotten how yummy he looked. So different from her yummy Spike, as different as night from day, but just as delicious to look at. He seemed to become very self-conscious under her gaze, and stopped drying his hair, reaching instead for the gray shirt that was lying on the bed.

“Nothing’s wrong”, she finally answered his question, a small smile playing on her lips.

Yes, something was indeed very wrong, but she would soon make it right again. Many years before, a man called Liam had been born, certainly for no other destiny than to become a vampire and bring mayhem to the world. And there was no denying that Angelus had been quite gifted in that regard. A real artist of violence and murder. Until the so sad night he had been replaced by a weakling answering to the name of Angel. Buffy had brought back Angelus once; she very much intended to bring him back to the world again. And then, all three of them, maybe four if she decided to turn Steven, would have the time of their unlives.

As she let her thoughts wander to the hell they would bring to Sunnydale, California, and the world in general, Buffy had come closer to Angel, and she was now close enough to reach to his half buttoned shirt and check that it was silk, as she had thought. She chuckled as he took a step back, still looking awfully uncomfortable.

“Did you want anything?” he asked, frowning and catching her hand as it was reaching toward him again.

“Don’t we all always want something?” she purred seductively, sitting on the unmade bed without taking her eyes off him.

As she lay there on her side, she was aware that she was exposing quite a nice amount of flesh, and Angel probably had a hard time not looking at the cleavage she revealed. It amused her slightly that his eyes, and his frown, kept being directed at her face.

“I think you need to leave,” he said in a strong tone. “Spike will be wondering where you are.”

So, seduction wasn’t working. Buffy was very curious to know whether he was completely over her or whether he was just wary of Spike’s reaction if he found her half naked on Angel’s bed. She would have time to request a truthful answer from him later, but she doubted very much that all his feelings for her were gone. Maybe it would be different after; Angelus had never had much of a human side, but it wouldn’t matter, she would be his Sire and it would be enough.

Still, if he wasn’t coming to her willingly, she would have to try something else. Kneeling on the bed so that she was just in front of him, she locked her gaze to his, following instincts that she knew were coming straight from her demon.

“Let me in,” she cooed. “Show me your thoughts and your dreams, let me make them true for you.”

As she started rocking slightly from side to side, Angel’s body echoed her motion, and his eyes became slightly glazed as they remained in hers. She could have done this without his consent and without the thrall, but after all dusting vampires had no secrets for him, and she did not fancy becoming ashes because he didn’t understand fast enough that it was a gift she was offering him. When she was sure he was in her control, she moved back on the bed, still on her knees, beckoning him to climb in front of her.

“I will give the world back to you,” she whispered.

At the same time, she trailed her fingertips on his forehead and down his cheek, caressing lightly. He turned his head just enough for his lips to brush against her hand, and she smiled, satisfied. He had done this on his own, without her intervention through the thrall, which had to mean that deep down, he wanted it. He wanted her. Still going down her fingers traveled, along his neck, past two scars so old and so faint that they were hardly noticeable. As she reached his shirt, she undid the few buttons that were fastened and pulled on the fabric, exposing delectable looking flesh. She could hear the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat. He wasn’t afraid. Why would he be, she was offering him eternity. Even when she shifted to her game mask in front of his face, when she tilted his head, he didn’t stir, didn’t show any sign of surprise or fear, didn’t try to break through the thrall. Only when her fangs pierced his skin did he gasp ever so slightly. But to Buffy’s ears it was a sweet music. She had drunk from Angel shortly after being turned, but it compared in no way to the first, very first bite she was taking off a human. The warmth down her throat, the taste on her tongue, the beating of his heart in her ears… She had thought before that nothing could equal drinking from her Sire, but maybe she had been wrong. This was just glorious. It satisfied her demon’s hunger in a way it had never been satisfied before. Warm blood from a living human. So much of it. So good. She didn’t think she would ever get enough.

Chapter 20 - Nightmares

Spike entered the dark room and carefully deposited his frail and precious burden on the bed. If he hadn’t been hearing her fainter but still stubborn heartbeat, he might have believed her dead already. The damn doctors must have given her massive drug amounts to have her sleep like this. Brushing a strand of hair off her cheek, he considered doing it right away, even if he had said he would give Red a day to get ready. Did Buffy even have a day left? She had to. Just a few hours so that he could give her a last sunset. Just a little longer. Stifling a worried sigh, he sat down in a chair next to the bed. Sickness had left her pale, too pale, and weak, too weak. Slayer healing had not helped her this time. If he had believed before that there was something, anything at all above them all, he would have stopped believing now. No being could let this happen to their chosen fighter and still call themselves superior.

For a long while, he watched his Slayer sleep. His Slayer. His Buffy. The mortal who had taken his unbeating heart. The fighter who had seduced at the same time the man and the demon. Maybe it was because she appealed to all parts of him that he was ready to do anything for her. Even what he wouldn’t have dreamed of doing in any other circumstances.

“Just do it already,” an impatient voice snapped.

Despite himself, he turned his gaze to the woman who had talked. She stood by the door, in the shadows, wearing attire from another era. There was no lost love between them, and there had never been. From the very night William had risen from his grave, Darla had always made it clear that for her he was no more than a toy shared by Angelus and Drusilla, and that being so he was very much expendable, in more than one way.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, her impatience up one notch.

“Why would I bother to tell you?” he shot back, just as annoyed by her intrusion as she seemed to be by his delay. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Our Spike is grumpy,” a new voice said playfully, just as its dark haired owner revealed herself by her grandsire’s side. “He didn’t want an audience, but the stars always watch. And we will watch too, and help if he…”

“No!” Spike interrupted her, jumping up from his chair. “You are not helping. I need no help!”

Unconsciously, he had slipped into game face. Dru was right, an audience was the last thing he wanted, and especially this kind of audience.

“Spike…”

Buffy’s voice was faint, just a whisper, but it silenced the two women and brought Spike’s attention back to the Slayer. He had to make a conscious effort to show her his human visage and smile at her.

“Yes pet?”

“Where are we? Why did you bring me here?”

“He brought you here to kill you, Buff. Or to be exact, to make you one of us. Killing Slayers isn’t enough anymore, now he fancies himself a Slayer’s Sire.”

The unbidden words were harsh, mocking, and reminded Spike of Angelus’ rebuttal when he had turned a minion for the first time. They had fought then, and it had ended with the newly risen vampire becoming ashes. This time, Spike couldn’t afford to fight, couldn’t afford to lose, couldn’t afford risking anything bad happening to Buffy – anything worse than what he had planned for her, at least. So he completely ignored his Sire, who, he instinctively knew, was with the two women. Instead, he focused on Buffy and only her. Trying to comfort her with a smile, he opened the curtains and watched as the last golden rays of the sun bathed her. But Angelus’ words had distressed her. She wasn’t paying attention to the last setting sun she would ever get a chance to see, and it made Spike even angrier at his Sire.

“I can’t let you die like this, luv,” he murmured as once again she demanded an explanation. “You deserve so much more.”

There was some insane cackle behind him as he sat on the bed by his Slayer – his, no one else’s. There were also comments from the trio as he tried to soothe her a little, but he ignored them and did what he had come to this place to do.

Soon, she was laying in his arms, still as death, the faintest trace of his blood on her lips, and again Spike was confronted to his Sire’s cruel words.

“You not only turned her, but you had to make your Childe too, uh? What do you think you’re doing? Did you figure you two would go out hunting together, unstoppable because she is the Slayer and no other Chosen One could even touch a hair of her head? You can’t even hurt anyone, my poor boy! Will you just watch her as she kills? Will you take whatever remnants she leaves to you? How long until she gets tired of your impotence?”

Angelus laughed out loud, and Spike shut his eyes tight. No, she wouldn’t kill anyone. She would have her soul, her shiny and pure Slayer soul, and she would be just like before. Almost like before. All they needed now was Red to cast her spell…

Red… As if summoned by Spike’s thoughts, the witch appeared suddenly between Darla and Dru. She looked scared, and her eyes pleaded for Spike to do something. But as he sat up on the bed, Angelus placed himself between him and the women.

“Keep still, my boy,” he ordered with a twisted grin. “An interesting plan you had there, but I have a much better one. Our girl is going to wake soon, and she will be hungry. She can have the redhead first, so the little bitch won’t be playing with souls and spells anymore. Then we’ll drop by Sunnydale to say our goodbyes to the rest of the Scoobies, and we’ll be on our way to a little trip around the world. And if you promise to behave, we might let you come along.”

Spike wanted to launch himself at his Sire, to free Willow before it was too late, to do something, anything, but he was completely paralyzed, and couldn’t have moved an inch to save his own life. As he desperately tried to think of some way to fix things, he felt Buffy stir at his side. She rose to her feet and he could only watch in horror as she wordlessly went to Willow. She turned to him then, her eyes burning with cold fire, and her smile just as icy.

“I’ll bring you back something to eat, OK?”

* * * * *

Spike woke up in a jump from his dream – no, nightmare – and looked for Buffy around the room, although he could feel quite clearly that she wasn’t there. Where was she, anyway? He had drifted back into sleep after she had left, and by the clock on the nightstand it had been a few minutes ago. More than enough time to get down to the kitchen, warm some blood and come back.

Settling back down on the propped up pillows, he reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand and lit one, taking a long, calming drag. It wasn’t unusual for him to dream of turning Buffy, but so far it had always happened in his dreams as it had in reality. What in hell had brought forth this one? As far as he knew, Darla had been ashes again by the time he had turned Buffy, Dru wasn’t even in the country, and Angelus was safely locked under Angel’s soul. A nightmare, really. Buffy awakening without her soul. He shuddered at the thought. From the moment he had decided to turn her, it had been evident. She had to have her soul right away. Even if it meant he wasn’t sure to live through her first night. Even if it meant giving up any hope to be with her. He couldn’t risk that she would kill a human, or more, in her first hours or nights as a vamp, only to be cursed later and feel the weight of guilt for eternity. He had been certain Willow would have ensouled her at the moment she learned Buffy was a vampire, so he had warned her in advance.

Of course, the thought of making a run for it with her had crossed his mind. More than once. He couldn’t kill then, but he could still teach her. What a huntress she would have done… Combined vampire and Slayer abilities… And next to her, as the Angelus of his nightmare had said, an impotent vampire who could barely feed. From any way he looked at it, even today, it had been the best solution, for all of them.

Going through his dream again in his mind, her first vampire words came back to him. They didn’t make much sense – not that the dream made any sense at all – as she wasn’t going anywhere when she had said them. A nagging thought wormed its way in his mind. Her first words in his nightmare had been the last thing his Buffy had said before leaving the room. Why? Why would his sleeping brain associate these particular words with a soulless Buffy?

Frowning, he put out his cigarette in the ashtray and climbed out of bed. Within seconds, he had pulled his jeans on and was walking down the hallway toward the stairs. Just checking that Buffy was alright, he told himself. She’d be gone for a while, after all. No other reason, really. As he walked by Angel’s room, he froze mid-stride. He could feel her, behind that door.

If Angel had laid one finger on her, he was a dead man.

He tried to open the door, but it was locked, which only fueled his ire. With just one kick, the barrier was removed and he stepped in, barely aware that his demon features had emerged. As he had feared, Angel and Buffy were on the bed, but their embrace was of a very different nature than what he had imagined.

As she lifted her mouth from the human’s neck to look up at Spike, there was the barest hint of laughter in Buffy’s gold eyes.

“No need to get upset,” she said with a wide grin. “There’s still some left for you.”

 

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