Their Soul

By Kallysten

Chapter 21 - Anger

Even engrossed as she was by the slow sips she was taking of Angel’s blood, Buffy had felt her Sire come closer, so his entrance wasn’t much of a surprise. What amused her, however, was the jealous look in his eyes. His shock, too.

She reluctantly let go of the still living human’s neck and grinned at Spike. She hadn’t expected him to burst in before she was done with Angel, but if he was ready to help, she had no objections.

“No need to get upset. There’s still some left for you.”

She had been very careful as she drew the precious nectar. It was her first real meal, and she had wanted to savor each drop of it and make it last. Spike wasn’t answering to her offer, though. He hadn’t moved one step, hadn’t said a word; he was just watching her with what looked now very much like anger. And pain.

Shrugging, she returned her attention to the two punctures that were trickling blood and gave them a quick lap.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she said, trying to tempt him. “He tastes even better now than when he was a vamp.”

Still, no reaction, except for a light twitch in his jaw. Deciding that she had waited enough, Buffy fastened her mouth to Angel’s neck again. That brought out an answer from Spike.

“Stop.”

The word was quiet, emotionless, and wasn’t accompanied by any movement, yet Buffy was compelled to obey. Again, her gaze rose toward her Sire, but she was becoming annoyed now.

“Care to explain what you’re doing, Slayer?”

Not so impassive anymore. There were still jealousy and anger in the fire of his eyes, and they tinted his voice, even if he obviously tried to control himself.

“I am turning this poof back into Angelus. You wanna help?”

Buffy could almost have laughed as surprise filled Spike’s face. He even took a step back, and stared at her, unbelieving.

“What would happen if we both fed him our blood?” she asked, toying with the idea. “Would we both be his Sires? That could be fun. What do you think, love?”

Slowly, Spike shook his head in denial.

“Why?” he asked in a murmur. “Why in hell would you do that?”

“Why not? Angelus is a lot more fun than Angel.”

“Fun?” Spike repeated, incredulous.

“Yes, fun. I didn’t get it when Dru said we could all be a family, but it’s crystal clear, now. Not that I regret the bitch, good riddance, but once we turn Angel and maybe even Steven, we will have a hell of a good time!”

What she didn’t want to say out loud was that Spike hadn’t been a hunter in so long that she feared he had lost his touch. But she had no doubt that with some help he could become again the Slayer of Slayers he had been. All of them together, they would set the world of fire, and dance among the ruins. After all, she had saved it often enough to deserve to get some fun.

* * * * *

It had to be a nightmare. He was undoubtedly still asleep, and this was all just a nightmare. There was no other way. There could be no other way. And yet, he wasn’t waking up. However hard he ordered his body to wake up and put an end to this monstrosity, he was still there, a few steps from a vamped out Buffy, whose lips were red with Angel’s blood, and who was talking about turning him into Angelus as she would have talked of the weather.

He finally managed to tear his eyes away from her and brought them to Angel. All he could see were the two bleeding marks on his neck, everything else was obliterated. Everything but the sound of his heartbeat. So slow. Too slow. That simple sound made Spike snap out of his stupor. If he did nothing, Angel might die, whether Buffy took another drop of his blood or not. He wasn’t sure a dead Angel wouldn’t have been better, but he wasn’t sure either if he was in any state to take that decision now. First, make sure Angel would live. Then understand what had happened to Buffy. Then fix it. Then, and only then, would he allow himself to give in to the anger he felt raging in him.

“Get off the bed, sit down, and don’t move even one finger until I say you can.”

Whatever else was wrong with Buffy, at least she still obeyed Sire’s commands. She didn’t look particularly happy about it, though, as she let herself fall into a chair in a corner of the room and crossed her arms over her chest. Sulky and pouting, Spike would have called her adorable, if he hadn’t been too numb to feel anything.

Getting to the bed despite his urge to turn around and run away from both his Sire and Childe, he pulled Angel flat on his back and checked the wound gingerly. The only reason the man was still alive was that Buffy hadn’t bitten through a major blood vessel. Without needing to think, Spike went to the bathroom and pulled out gauze and tape from the first aid box. Back in the bedroom, he settled on bandaging the two punctures, refusing to give Buffy a look even when she addressed him.

“Come on”, she pleaded. “He’s almost dead anyway. He sired you, you sire him, that’s just a nice return of favors. I’m sure he’ll be grateful…”

“Why in hell would he be?” Spike hissed between his teeth. “The ponce has been moaning for his humanity for so long, and when he gets it back you want to vamp him again. I very much doubt he would be grateful.”

“Who cares about Angel?” Buffy replied with a shrug. “It’s Angelus I’m talking about.”

Spike could only laugh at that, though he felt more like screaming.

“What do you know about Angelus? Nothing. You think you know him, but you don’t. You have no idea…”

Pressing his lips tightly, Spike forced himself to stop there. Getting into an argument with Buffy wouldn’t help right now. First things first. Growling at the still glazed look in his open eyes, he slapped Angel, harder, maybe, than he should have, considering his condition, but far more gently that he wanted to.

“Wake up, you bloody idiot”, he snarled.

No reaction. Another slap. “How you could be stupid enough to let her enthrall you, I have no fucking clue.”

Still, Angel wasn’t answering. “I swear, I should finish you off just for your stupidity.”

This time, his hand didn’t reach Angel’s face, as the human blinked several times. His eyes finally focused on Spike as he touched his neck carefully where it was now bandaged.

“And what exactly do you suggest I had done?” he managed to say, his voice tired and dry.

Spike only glared at him. As a Master Vampire, Angel probably could have resisted a thrall by a younger vampire. As a human, there was just nothing he could have done.

“Try to stay awake,” Spike said coldly. “I’ll go get Steven so that he can take you to the hospital.”

“I don’t need…” Angel started, and tried to sit, only to fail miserably.

“Yeah, sure, you don’t need to get to the hospital. And I am not angry enough to snap your neck and end your suffering. Don’t move and shut your bloody mouth.”

With that, he threw a glance at the now very obviously irritated Buffy, who was still immobile on her chair, and got out of the room. Striding through the corridor, he stopped in front of Steven’s room and banged angrily on the door until it opened in front of the startled young man, who was wearing a sheet draped around him.

“Get dressed. Your father needs a ride to the hospital.”

Still half asleep, the kid didn’t move, staring at Spike as if he had grown another head. The vampire realized belatedly that he was still wearing his game mask, but couldn’t have changed back even if he had cared to.

“The hospital?” he muttered. “Why?”

“I told you to get dressed!” Spike snapped. “I meant today, not tomorrow. I’ll get Peaches down to the hall, join us there.”

Without waiting to see whether the kid was moving, Spike turned around and walked back to Angel’s room, unwilling to leave Buffy and her almost-victim alone any longer than necessary.

* * * * *

After Spike left the room, Angel managed to pull himself to a sitting position, although the effort left him feeling quite light-headed. When his vision had cleared up again, he carefully turned toward Buffy, a hand pressed against the bandage on his neck. Immobile, she seemed very calm, but a lot was passing through her eyes, too much for him to recognize the emotions.

“Were you going to just kill me,” he asked quietly“, or turn me?”

He knew, really, in his heart and flesh which one it was. But he needed to hear her say it. Maybe it would make it more real that Buffy had actually attacked him. Maybe it would shed some light on why she had done so.

“Turn you, of course,” she said with the hint of a smile. “I could still do it, you know.”

“Why?” Angel murmured, pushing back the dry sobs that were rising in his throat.

“You want it,” Buffy said simply.

Her affirmation left Angel speechless for a couple of seconds. How could she ever think he would want to be vamped again?

“I don’t…”

“You can lie to yourself”, Buffy interrupted him coolly, “you can lie to the others, but not to me. You didn’t fight the thrall. You didn’t fight at all. You wanted it. And I know why, lover. Back to being a vamp, a real vamp, you could have had both of us. The two persons you love, the two persons who love you.”

Completely numbed by the words this woman he thought he knew was giving him, Angel shook his head, not understanding what she was saying.

“The two persons?” he repeated slowly.

Her grin widened, and her gaze flickered between him and the door, where, he realized, Spike was standing, his face more murderous than Angel had ever seen. And the deadly eyes were looking straight at him.

“Me and Spike,” Buffy chirped in. “Don’t you know we…”

“Be quiet, Childe.”

It was a relief when Spike’s gaze left Angel to settle momentarily on Buffy, and the brunette let out a quiet sigh. Why Spike was as angry at him as he was at Buffy, Angel had no idea. Was it his fault the suddenly insane Slayer had attacked him? He didn’t think it was wise to voice that remark right now, though, and didn’t say a word as Spike helped him get up and took most of his weight on him as they walked out of the room and toward the first floor. As they reached, with some difficulty, the last step, Angel felt compelled to say something at last.

“Spike, she didn’t mean…”

“Not. Now.”

A few more steps and Spike was letting Angel slide on the sofa in the middle of the hall. The human felt as tired as he had after the day-long apocalypse fight a few days before. He didn’t believe he was going to die, but maybe the hospital wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Listen”, Angel tried again as Spike paced in front of him, “it’s…”

“No, you listen”, the blonde interrupted him, his whole body so tense that Angel thought he might jump on him. “My Mate just tried to turn you because she… she said she loves you. Talking to you is the last thing I want to do now. I don’t even know why I care about saving your sorry ass.”

At that moment, Steven entered through the front door, and Spike twirled around, giving the impression he was on the brink of attacking the teen. Steven raised his hands peacefully.

“Hey, calm down”, he said quickly. “It’s just me. I got the car as close as I could.”

As Spike nodded stiffly, Steven’s eyes moved to Angel, and he frowned at the very obvious bandage on his neck.

“What happened?” the kid asked icily, an almost accusing glare moving to Spike.

The blonde didn’t say a word, and instead helped Angel get up and walk to the door.

“I said, what happened?” Steven repeated, this time addressing his father.

Angel tried to catch Spike’s gaze to know what he should answer, but there was nothing for him in the still golden eyes.

“Just an accident,” Angel finally replied warily. “Let’s go now.”

By the hard look Steven gave him, there was no doubt that he didn’t believe Angel, and would press the matter later. But for now, he said nothing and stepped in to take Spike’s place as a support to Angel. Together, they walked outside in the barely risen sunlight, leaving behind them a vampire who did not give them a parting word as he banged the door shut behind them.


Chapter 22 - Laughter

The door closed, blocking out the sight of Steven supporting his father as they slowly moved toward the car, and Spike fell to his knees, his features melting at last into his human visage.

He hadn’t wanted to think until this instant, he hadn’t dared let himself think, but now that the immediate danger was gone, he couldn’t fool himself any longer. He didn’t know how, or why, but he knew with a heart wrenching certainty that his Childe had lost her soul. And he knew when. During the night. She had gone to bed happy that things with Dawn had been mended. She had awoken hungry for blood and sex, not an unusual thing in itself, but unusual in the way she had acted on it, then she had suggested torturing one of her exes, and finally decided to turn the other one. And without that so disturbing nightmare that had awoken Spike, she would have succeeded. Had his brain figured out what had happened and tried to warn him? Or had it been his demon that saw the change? Whatever the case, he had had all the confirmation he needed by simply looking in her eyes. They were still the same hazel gems he loved to lose himself into, and at the same time, they were different, in a way he couldn’t have explained.

Buffy without her soul.

What was probably the deadliest fighter in this dimension, freed of the guilt of killing innocents, guided only by her demon.

Buffy without her soul.

Free of morality, thirsty for blood. Like in his dream. Except that in his dream, he had been chipped still, and now he wasn’t. Now, they were alike. No soul to forbid anything to them. If they wanted it, the town was theirs. No, not if they wanted it. If he wanted it. If he allowed it. He had stopped her before she could take the first step toward that. She hadn’t wanted to bring back Angelus to play kitten poker with him. She had wanted him back because he was fun, she had said. Fun… As much fun as a tornado could be fun. Or an earthquake. Unpredictable. Unavoidable. Deadly. She had wanted a partner to help her destroy. A teacher, maybe. In other words, she hadn’t believed Spike was up to her standards. And that was a wound just as deep as the other. As painful as hearing…

No. That hadn’t been his Buffy talking. It was the demon. Just the demon trying to hurt Spike because he had denied it its first kill. He couldn’t be angry with that. He had to calm down. She didn’t mean it. She couldn’t mean it. He couldn’t allow himself to believe she meant it. Because if he did, if she did, it was Drusilla preferring Angelus to him once more. And if that was all unlife held for him, over and over again, he might as well open that door and take a walk outside right now.

Buffy without her soul.

No. Not Buffy. His Slayer without her soul wasn’t completely his Slayer anymore. He knew what the accepted theory was, that once the demon took over there was nothing left from the human. But his own experience had led him to another way to see things. William was still in him, buried deep, but present. Even if he always denied it, he knew it was true. And the demon allowed some things, some habits, feelings, likes or dislikes – few, very few – to get through. In each vampire, a different demon. Each demon choosing to keep or not these little things to its own liking. From what he had heard, this Buffy had kept at least part of her feelings, but he had no clue as to whether she still loved him. And he was afraid to find out she did not. All he wanted was to have her back, all of her. Including her soul. He was the reason she had kept it after he had turned her, and he would be the reason it was returned to her. Today. Now.

Pulling himself to his feet, he strode to Angel’s office, fumbling at the desk until he found the notebook in which Angel kept phone numbers and addresses. His call woke the Witches, but they understood quickly it was a matter of life or death.

* * * * *

From the instant Spike had ordered her to sit down and not move, Buffy had been fighting his command, without any success for long minutes. While he was gone to enlist Steven’s help, while she was explaining to Angel what - and who – he was losing by not being turned, she had been thrilled to discover she could at last move her feet and hands. Not much, at first, but progressively more and more. If her Sire had only taken a little longer to return, she might have been able to finish what she had started. But too soon he had taken her prey away, and she couldn’t understand why, however hard she tried to.

She knew there was something between the two men, she had understood that a while before even though they had never talked about it. Ensouled, she had been way too prudish to touch that subject, or to dare make suggestions. Oh, she wasn’t jealous. She knew with no possible doubt to whom Spike’s heart belonged, who he would have given everything for, who he would have died for. Her. And if she was honest with herself, she could say that the reverse was true. Even now, it was true. Her human self had once flung into Spike’s face that vampires were not capable of love, and now that she was a true vampire, she knew she had been wrong. Because she still loved him. That was one of the reasons she had tried to turn Angel, to give Spike what she knew part of him wanted, even if he was too proud and stubborn to admit it. What she wanted too, true, but it made the deal that much sweeter. But he hadn’t let her. He hadn’t understood it was for him, too, that she was making Angel one of them. It wasn’t all lost, however. She could still explain to him better, and they could finish the job later. Together.

Not once did the question of how her soul had disappeared come to her. She just knew it had, and was quite content about it, having discovered a freedom she had never even dared dream of. It had taken her a brief moment after waking up to work out why she felt all at once different and the same. The pieces had clicked into place as she described to Spike how they could have fun with Riley. She had realized then she meant every word she said, realized that for the first time she was actually considering killing a human. More than considering, she was sure she would enjoy it very much.

A few minutes after she had been left alone, the command of her Sire finally lost its power on her and she managed to stand, stretching her limbs in a catlike fashion. She was walking down the hall, trying to decide whether to get dressed or go find Spike, when her face suddenly brightened with a smile as she came upon Dawn.

“Buffy?” The kid asked worriedly. “What’s going on? Spike said An…”

Before the girl had a chance to finish, Buffy had grabbed and immobilized her. Already she had shifted to game face, but before she could put her fangs to good use she was, as before, stopped by a single word from her Sire. It was becoming more than frustrating.

Irritated, she cast a defiant glare at him as he slowly approached, never letting go of the girl whose heart was suddenly beating faster with her fear. She was surprised to discover the grief reflected on his face. No more anger, just an incredible sadness in the blue again eyes.

“Why do you keep stopping me?” she asked, half pleading, half reproachful.

“I can’t let you kill them, luv,” he replied quietly, stopping just a couple of steps from Buffy and her prey.

“Why not?” she insisted. “It is so good. You never told me it was so good to feed off humans.”

If she had known, she thought, surely even her soul couldn’t have stopped her.

“They are not just humans. They are our family.”

He was still making no move to take the trembling girl from her, but he gave her a reassuring smile.

“We are vampires. Vampires do not have families.”

Spike had a tiny headshake. “Blood, Childe. Blood is family. Dawn was made from your blood. I was made from Angel’s. You from mine. All linked. We are family. And we do not hurt family.”

There was such force in his calm voice, so calm now compared to the anger from before, that Buffy could feel how much he believed what he was saying. After all, he had killed Dru because she had hurt his Childe, his closest bloodkin. She herself wasn’t so sure, but he was her Sire, her Mate, and if he didn’t want her to kill a couple of humans, then she could leave them safe. The world was full of potential meals. She let go of Dawn.

Buffy watched, amused, as the kid stumbled forward, huddling into Spike’s arms, nervous sobs rocking her body. She was much less amused, however, when he stroked her hair comfortingly and tried to soothe her, always keeping an eye on Buffy. It was one thing to allow some people to live, quite another to mollycoddle them.

“It’s OK now, Bit”, she heard him murmur. “You’re safe. It’s OK.”

“No it’s not,” a shaking voice answered. “She tried to bite me. My own sister tried to bite me. Is that what happened to Angel? Did she drain him? What’s wrong with her?”

Buffy clucked her tongue, annoyed. Nothing was wrong with her, she wasn’t the one crying and clinging to a vampire because another one had tried to get a snack.

“Angel is fine”, Spike answered, and Buffy noticed the tension when he said that name again. “And Buffy will be too. I promise she will very soon.”

“I am fine right now,” Buffy felt compelled to say.

“What happened to her?” Dawn asked, ignoring her comment. “Why does she do… this?”

Spike’s gaze found Buffy’s over the teen’s shoulder, and still the sadness was there. As he didn’t answer immediately, Dawn pulled away from him, maybe searching on his face the answer he wasn’t giving her.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Buffy asked, grinning slightly, wondering whether he knew. He couldn’t not know, he was her Sire after all.

Spike nodded slowly, and his eyes never left her as he spoke.

“I don’t know how, but Buffy doesn’t have a soul at the moment.”

“She what?!” Dawn said with that annoying shrieking voice of hers, her eyes going back and forth between the two vamps.

“I lost my soul”, Buffy clarified with a grin that showed maybe too many teeth, because Dawn took a step back.

“She will have it back very soon,” Spike added quickly.

“How…” Dawn started, now whining, but was interrupted by Buffy’s growl.

“I don’t want it back!”

She crossed her arms over her breast, ready to argue on that until the next apocalypse, and by the frown Spike gave her, he could see how determined she was.

“We’ll talk later, Bit. Let me know when Steven comes back, alright?”

With that, he squeezed the teen’s shoulder briefly and came to Buffy, caressing her face with his fingertips.

“Come to our room with me, luv?”

This time, it wasn’t an order, and she could have simply refused. But he didn’t wait for her to agree, and just walked away. If she wanted to convince him she didn’t need a soul, she had to follow him, so she did just that. After only a few steps, the girl’s voice rose, still a bit wavering, but Buffy only shrugged as she heard Dawn proclaim that she was still her sister and that she still loved her.

“I don’t want a soul again,” she said as she closed their door and leaned against it.

“I know, luv,” Spike said with a too soft voice. “But I’m afraid I already made that decision for you. Red is working on it right now. A couple of hours, she said.”

Blinking several times, Buffy watched him as he let himself fall on the bed, hands folded behind his head, eyes staring at the ceiling. A couple of hours. Nothing for her to do to prevent it, then. Even if the sun hadn’t been glaring outside, Sunnydale – and Willow – were too far to reach them before she had cast the spell. For the first time since she had awoken, Buffy felt her heart sink. Head down, she joined Spike on the bed and curled against his side.

“But you don’t have a soul”, she pleaded without hope. “Why should I have one? I don’t need one. I don’t want one.”

“I had a soul, luv,” he murmured as he moved to embrace her. “I had yours. And I know your demon doesn’t care about souls. But my Buffy does. My Buffy doesn’t want to hurt anyone. My Buffy wants to go back to Heaven some day. And I promised her she would. So in a few hours, your soul will be back. And until then, I’ll make sure you do nothing else you could feel guilty about later.”

There was a hard determination in the dark blue eyes that were staring at Buffy. The caresses on her back where he held her were very soft, featherlike. The contrast between the too, inflexibility and gentleness, was odd.

“I should never have had it to begin with,” she said bitterly. “You made me a demon, and then you refused me everything that a demon has. And now you refuse it to me again.”

The determination seemed to waver, and Spike closed his eyes, the long lashes quivering lightly.

“They would have cursed you anyway, luv. Both then and now. It might have taken them more time, but they would have done it. I just try to make it easier on you.”

“Easier?” she laughed cynically. “It’s easier for me if you don’t let me do what I was reborn to do? Don’t let me feed? Don’t let me turn who I want?”

The soft caresses ceased immediately, and he pulled away from her, breaking all contact between their bodies, turning his back to her. She was wondering what in her words had hurt him, when he asked, his voice cold as ice:

“Do you really love him? Answer truthfully, Childe.”

And once again, he was using that voice to make her obey. Before that day, he had done it no more than two times. But in just a couple of hours, it was already his fifth order, and each time she liked it even less.

“I am not in love with him, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said somberly. “I am in love with my Mate.”

“Do. You. Love. Him.”

He still had his back to her, and she reached out tentatively, stroking his bare flesh gently.

“No more than you do”, she finally answered.

His body shook under her hand until she thought he was crying, but soon his laughter filled the room. Except that it was the most desperate laugh she had ever heard.

Chapter 23 - The Fine Line Between Love And Hate

During the ride to the hospital, Angel’s only answer to Steven’s questions was that it was all just an accident, and that he had nothing to be concerned about. However, when they arrived at the ER, when the doctors removed the bandages to reveal, as Steven had suspected, puncture marks, and when Angel finally admitted he had lost a lot of blood, there was just one question left in the teen’s mind. Who had bitten Angel and almost drained him? Spike or Buffy? It was Spike who had come ask for help, vamp face in full effect, anger coming from him in almost palpable waves. But Steven had a hard time believing the man could have done that, even if he was blinded by rage. On the other hand, Buffy seemed even less of an option.

As he was ushered out of the room his father was being treated in, a nurse asked Steven what exactly had happened. He considered her incredulously for a second. She had seen the marks, she had heard the words ‘massive blood loss’, she lived in LA, and still she needed to ask him what had happened?

“What do you think happened?” he snapped at her. “A vampire bit him. That’s what.”

She looked at him with what very much looked like condescendence, and it was all he could do not to slap her. She was the crazy one, not him, if she worked in the ER and had never put two and two together.

It was a couple of hours before Steven was allowed to see his father again. He was still pale, but he wasn’t drifting in and out of consciousness as he had been in the car. Again, he declined to explain what had happened, his refusal only fueling Steven’s anger. A few hours later, against medical advice and against his son’s wishes, Angel was checking himself out of the hospital.

The ride back to the Hyperion in the late afternoon was very quiet, but the silence was broken the second they set foot inside. Gunn and Fred rushed out of the office, babbling questions about their boss’ health. Steven ignored them, giving his attention instead to the charming lady who was rising from the sofa and coming to him. His anger faded a little when he saw her, and he managed to smile, until she broke into tears as they hugged.

“Dawn… honey… what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t believe she was that upset over Angel’s ‘accident’, he knew all too well that the only reason she tolerated the ex-vampire was because of his son.

“It’s Buffy”, she sobbed. “She lost her… her soul. And… and they can’t restore it.”

Steven didn’t need to look at his father to fit that piece into the puzzle and complete it, but he did anyway, just to see his reaction at the piece of news. He didn’t look terribly surprised, but all of a sudden he seemed ten years older.

“We’ll find a solution,” he whispered into his girlfriend’s hair. “She’ll be her old self in no time. And until then, you know she wouldn’t hurt you, she loves you too much.”

Dawn’s sobs only grew louder, and a terrible feeling took hold of Steven. Pushing her away from him a little, he lifted her hair and checked both sides of her neck, relieved not to find a scratch.

“She didn’t try to hurt you, did she?” he asked nonetheless.

Dawn shook her head. “It wasn’t her”, she assured him pitifully. “Without her soul, it’s not really…”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. Already, he was climbing the steps three by three, the stake he always carried now in his hand. Angel could pretend all he wanted that it had been an accident. He was a grown man, and didn’t need anyone to defend him. But Dawn, confronted by a vampire or by a Slayer, had no more chance than a kitten with a tiger. And he would be damned before he allowed anyone to touch her.

* * * * *

Despite the drawn curtains, there was enough light in the bedroom for Spike to distinguish everything around him. His duster, and Buffy’s, resting on a chair by the door, the overnight bag on top of the dresser, the bed where he was sitting with his back to the headboard, the body of his Childe pressed to his, her head on his chest as she slept, her hand clutching the fabric of his shirt, her jean clad leg thrown over his. Possessive, even in her sleep.

They hadn’t talked much since the events of the morning. They had waited, at first, for her soul to return. She was silent, then, mostly sulking that he had sentenced her to regain her soul, and seemingly a little worried that he had shut her out. He was silent too, her words still echoing in his mind. He had had to ask, hadn’t he? Why leave the matter alone when he could get himself hurt some more. Eventually, she had forced him to look at her, had professed her love for him, offered her neck to his lips. They had drunk from each other’s throats, reaffirming that they were Sire, Childe, Mates. But the knowledge that it was ultimately Angel’s blood that he was taking from her had made the sharing strangely bitter to Spike.

The two hours promised by Red had passed, but Buffy had denied feeling any different. Two more hours, during which Spike had felt a bad feeling slowly rise in him as he watched Buffy become increasingly hopeful, and there had been a knock on the door. He had opened it to Gunn, who had delivered the grim news that a frantic Willow had called and said that she had tried the spell twice, but it didn’t seem to be working. When he had closed the door and turned to Buffy, she had been grinning at him, and asked very candidly if he would take her hunting that night. At that point, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They had to get back to Sunnydale, he told her, and she seemed to accept it as an answer.

They had made love then. No… No, not made love. They had fucked. For him, it had been as rough and devoid of emotions as their affair between Buffy’s return to life and her turning. Hearing her say again that she loved him had frozen him to his bones. And yet, he knew she meant it. She loved him, as much as her demon was allowing her to. It should have been the same to him, he should have been glad that this much at least subsisted of his Slayer. But compared to his Buffy’s smoldering love, he couldn’t help feeling that this one’s had all the warmth of a dying candle. Nonetheless, it was better than nothing, and he would take crumbs if that was all he could get.

And then they had waited again. For night to fall, for the sun to disappear and allow them to get on the move. It was still a couple of hours away when the door burst open, revealing a fuming young man who held a stake in his right hand. Spike could tell immediately that Buffy had awoken, although she hadn’t moved one inch. There was just a sudden sense of readiness to her, like a predator waiting for the right time to pounce.

“He is family too,” Spike whispered to her as the kid walked in, stroking her back soothingly, satisfied when she nodded imperceptibly against him.

Again, Steven took a step closer, and Spike stopped worrying for him, to worry instead about his intentions.

“You do understand that you will have to dust me before you can get to her, right?” he asked calmly, although he made no movement whatsoever to support his claim.

“She is dangerous and needs to be put down”, Steven spat icily. “You know it’s not Buffy anymore. How many times did you tell me that Angel and Angelus were two different persons?”

To hear someone else voice his deepest fear seemed somehow to make it more real and he held Buffy a bit tighter. He wouldn’t give up on her.

“It’s different. I can control her. She won’t kill anyone.”

Her body tensed against him, and he mentally begged her not to say a word, not now. As much as he hated it, he was relieved to see Angel appear behind his son and rest a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Steven,” he said tiredly. “You’d better go check on Dawn before she cries herself to dust.”

“But she…”

“I said that’s enough.”

The kid seemed startled by his father’s growl, and he cast a defying glance at him, then at the couple on the bed, before leaving the room, obviously furious. For a couple of minutes that seemed to stretch forever, Angel just stared at the two blondes blankly, and Spike could only wonder what was going through his mind. He had heard Buffy proclaim that Angel wanted to be vampire again, had heard her tell him he could have both of them if he was. Had he really wanted it, even for a fraction of second? Had he been tempted? Was he now?

“Spike, can I talk to you? Outside?”

There was nothing in the calm again voice that hinted at what Angel felt, or what he wanted to talk about. Truth be told, Spike still had no wish to talk to him, but it seemed unavoidable now. Gently, he moved out of Buffy’s embrace, giving her a quick kiss, a little curious as to why she was so silent now that her almost victim had returned.

“I’ll be right back, luv,” he assured her as he closed the door behind himself and leaned against it. It was just a game, really, she was going to hear everything they said as clearly as if they had remained in the room.

“Her soul?” Angel questioned softly, leaning against the wall across the hallway.

Spike only nodded.

“How?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. You’re the soul expert.”

“Willow?”

“Tried twice. No result. No clue why.”

Hearing himself talk about the situation in such a quiet, calm tone almost made Spike want to heave. Inside, he was screaming.

“What are you going to do?”

That was the million dollar question, really. He knew what the vampire behind that door wanted. He also knew what his Slayer would have wanted. And he knew what he ought to do.

“Go back to Sunnydale. Find out what happened. Fix it.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

Spike’s quiet voice became almost a hiss. “Yes. Stay away from us.”

“It’s not my fault,” Angel said with mild anger.

“Who said it was?”

“By the way you act, that’s what it seems like. I am the victim here, not the aggressor.”

Despite himself, Spike laughed, but he knew his eyes were slowly filling out with gold.

“Yeah, the victim. The woman you admitted to love offers you immortality and access to our bed, and you consider yourself the victim. Ain’t love grand…”

Angel moved from his spot against the wall, coming only a step in front of Spike. His fists were tightly closed, and had he been a vampire still he might have vamped out already.

“Don’t play that game, Childe. You knew, even before you loved her, what there was between Buffy and me. You knew even before us we would never be friends. You said so yourself. Said it would kill us bo…”

Spike’s hand catching Angel’s neck stopped the tirade. He had been drunk, that night, but he remembered quite well.

“You have no idea how close I am to just crushing your throat,” he said coldly.

“And then what?” Angel managed to croak, not defending himself in any way. “Will you kill Steven when he tries to avenge me? And Dawn when she wants to avenge him? And Gunn and Fred when they try to stop you? All that because I happen to love the same woman as you?”

“No. Because she still loves you.”

The door creaked open, and Buffy stepped right behind Spike, her body pressed against his back.

“It’s you I love,” she whispered against his ear.

His still outstretched arm shook, and he finally released Angel, pushing him away in the process.

“I hate you”, he spat at the human as he rubbed his throat.

“The feelings are mutual, William,” Angel replied calmly before walking away.

Spike watched him go until he had disappeared down the hall, then allowed Buffy to pull him back into their room.

Chapter 24 - Permission to Kill

None too soon, night had finally fallen. The two soulless vampires had made their way down to the hotel’s foyer, finding the other occupants gathered there. There was very little talk. A quiet but forceful statement from Steven that Dawn wouldn’t be returning to Sunnydale until everything was back to normal. A somber declaration from Angel that he had tried contacting Cordelia to get her help, but with no success so far. A whispered request from Dawn to Spike that he take care of her sister.

Buffy watched all of this with disinterest. A few hours before, she had had plans for two of these people. Now, they were out of her reach. Family, her Sire had said. Not to be hurt because they were family. He meant it, certainly, but she was sure it wasn’t everything. Jealousy. It amused her a little, it was so endearing. He didn’t want to share her with anyone. It was alright, they could still have a lot of fun, just the two of them. And they were on their way toward this fun right now, speeding on the highway in the early night.

“I am hungry,” Buffy said suddenly, licking her lips as she wiggled her way closer to her lover.

She pulled on his duster’s collar, then on the t-shirt he wore underneath, revealing pale marble that she nibbled on, careful not to break the skin. Long ago, he had given her what he called a permanent invitation, so his permission wasn’t her concern. The matter was that she knew the only blood he had had all day had been taken from her neck, and not nearly enough at that to satisfy his hunger.

“You must be hungry too,” she commented, still nibbling delicately.

“We will be there soon,” he replied absently, taking his eyes off the road briefly to look and smile at her.

The smile was slightly off though, as were the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, the touch of his hand at her waist. He was still upset that she was now soulless, and she couldn’t understand why. After all, he didn’t have a soul either. It should have been a relief to him that he could at last give in to what she knew his demon must have wanted. Maybe he was so used to playing the white hat game that she had to point out more clearly that he didn’t have to anymore. So, point out she would.

“Will we stop by the Magic Box first?” she asked.

“Yes. All the gang should be there.”

“Good. That’s two each, plus the baby Slayer. Shall we share her as dessert?”

For a good ten seconds, he gave no hint that he had heard her, except for the slow tightening of his grip on the wheel.

“What do you mean, pet?” he finally asked, wary.

“I mean, we’re both hungry and we’re on our way to five people who will make quite a nice meal. Who do you want to eat first? Oh, let me guess. You’ll take the two Witches. Am I right?”

The car’s trajectory became slightly erratic, and a couple of cars honked before Spike seemed to regain his control of the vehicle. Again, he looked at her, but this time the smile was gone, replaced by utter surprise.

“Why would I want to eat the Witches?” he asked blankly, his hand clutching at her side to the point of pain. “Why would I want to hurt any of them?”

“Because they failed you,” Buffy explained patiently, as if talking to a child. “You asked them to do that spell on me for you, and they weren’t able to follow your wishes. They disappointed you. So they should be punished.”

She stated it matter of factly, conveniently forgetting to mention she was actually quite glad the Witches had failed. As Spike kept quiet, she continued her explanation.

“And all of them have deserved to die for a long time for what they did to you. Kept you chained in a bathtub for weeks. Made fun of you because you couldn’t hunt. Treated you like an impotent thing. Used you when they saw it was convenient. Made you a babysitter. Didn’t tell you about their plans to bring me back. Ignored you after that. Plotted to dust you after you turned me. Never trusted you. Just a few days ago they were angry at you because I had decided to be a vampire again.”

With each item she added to the list, Buffy was thrilled to see her Sire’s face get even more somber, until she was sure he was ready to burst with anger. He surprised her however as he declared in a carefully controlled voice:

“They are my friends. They are far from perfect, but they are. And they are your friends too. No eating. No turning. No killing. No thrall.”

Once more, his eyes sought hers, and they seemed dull, dead, the usual blue now almost gray.

“You hear me, Childe?” he insisted. “You are not to harm them.”

This was becoming ridiculous. Soon, he would tell her that she couldn’t eat anyone at all. And after her first try earlier that day, she was very much decided not to give up on fresh meals, even if it meant arguing with her Sire. Irritated, she pulled away from him, resting her back against the car’s door so that she could see him as she talked.

“I didn’t complain when you told me not to harm our so called family,” she growled, spitting the last word as if it tasted bad on her tongue. “They share our blood, I can understand that, even if I don’t get why you don’t want them turned. But friends? These humans, our friends? Please! Haven’t they done enough for you to understand they only tolerate you because of me? And that they keep me around because I saved their butts so many times? They use you, as they use me, nothing more. It is past time we got something out of this. They are nothing but happy meals on legs!”

The car suddenly stopped in a loud noise of screeching tires, and through the few spots that allowed seeing outside Buffy realized that they had arrived at their destination. She hadn’t noticed they were so close, caught up as she was in trying to get her Sire to see reason. Slowly, he turned to her, and his face reflected no emotions.

“No,” he said simply.

“You can’t stop me from eating them,” she said rebelliously.

“Yes, I can. And I will. If I have to order you every ten minutes or so for the rest of my life not to touch any of the bloody Scoobies, then I will.”

Buffy scowled at his words. He had figured out much too soon for her liking how long his orders held her. He had answered to her questions that it was unusual for such a young vampire to be able to fight commands from her Sire in so little time, and that at her age one word from his Sire could hold him for hours.

“What about the Slayer?” she changed the subject gruffly. “She’s not our friend. And she has that very annoying fixation on you.”

Spike sighed and shook his head lightly.

“You are not killing the kid either.”

“Why not?” Buffy exploded, slipping into game face to show her displeasure. “You killed four Slayers yourself. Why can’t I kill one? Wouldn’t that make you proud of me?”

A look of pain moved through Spike’s face at her words, so quickly that Buffy wasn’t sure it was pain she had seen. Very slowly, he moved across the seats, until he held her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as lightly as feathers.

“I am proud of you, luv,” he said very gently. “Very proud. You are the most wonderful Childe any vampire could dream of having. The most delightful Mate. But I cannot let you kill, however much you want it. Because, you see, soon these people you say aren’t our friends are going to find a way to bring your soul back. And when they do, I don’t want you to hurt inside because of what you did while your soul was wandering off somewhere. I’ve been there, luv. I know how much it burns. And I promise I won’t let it happen to you.”

Buffy was about to protest that if they killed them all now, they would never restore her soul and therefore she would never feel that burn he was talking of. But his lips, pressing against hers insistently, prevented her voicing her thought. Too soon however, he broke the kiss.

“We are going to go in now,” he stated, caressing her face lightly until she allowed the ridges to melt under his touch. “Do I need to order you not to hurt them?”

She said nothing, but something in her eyes or face must have given her away, because he sighed again, tiredly, before using that voice she now hated so much to command her not to put under thrall or harm in any way any of the persons they were going to see. Grinding her teeth, she followed him inside. She had to find a way to make him change his mind about food, and very quickly.

* * * * *

The two Scooby couples were sitting at the research table, perusing a large number of books, when Spike and his Childe entered the store. All four of them threw worried glances at the vampires, even though they were smiling, or trying to.

Buffy’s little rant in the car about how the Scoobies had treated him through the years must have touched Spike more than he thought, because for an instant, a very short instant, he saw them with the eyes of the demon. Happy meals on legs, Buffy had said, using his own words from years back. Even more easy to get because they wouldn’t suspect a thing until they were on them. Deal with the Witches first, they were the most dangerous of the group, then the ex-demon, then the whelp. Avenge the bathtub, the name-calling, the jokes, the distrust, the pity, the disgust. And gone the people who had mourned Buffy with him, who had tried to help him get rid of the chip, who had finally accepted him for himself, whatever Buffy had said in the car, whom he liked too much for his own good.

Shaking his head lightly, he pushed the thoughts away, they weren’t very helpful at the moment. Glancing at the woman at his side, he realized that her thoughts must have been of the same nature, because as she observed the group she was licking her lips, just a little, as if savoring their blood already. He held her hand just a little tighter, and moved forward into the room.

“Evening, guys”, he answered their greetings. “The Slayer and me will get something to eat and we’ll be right back for research fun.”

At their collective nod, he pulled Buffy after him into the office and transferred two blood bags from the mini fridge to the microwave. Maybe after she had fed a little Buffy wouldn’t look at them with such bloodlust in her eyes. Maybe.

Even before the blood was warm, Willow joined them in the office, and he noticed the way Buffy shifted in her chair, as if getting ready to jump on her friend. His commands had to hold. They just had to. He couldn’t make himself even think of tying her up, let alone do it. At least, not like that.

“Anything new?” he asked the redhead as she looked at him and Buffy anxiously.

“Well, yes and no,” she babbled. “Still no clue why the spell didn’t work, but we’re working on it. Tara will do a little aura check on Buffy when you’re done with your snack, see if she can notice something unusual.”

Spike nodded, Buffy grumbled softly. Willow waited until they had both started emptying the now warm blood bags before she continued.

“About the why and how she lost her soul…”

She hesitated, and Spike wondered if it was because of what she was about to say or because of the way Buffy was licking her lips clean while ostentatiously watching Willow’s neck.

“What did you find?” he asked her, trying to bring her attention back on him.

“Well, it’s nothing sure, just a little suspicion. You see, we know she did a spell but we don’t know what spell, so it might be something else and we could be completely wrong. Plus, I really don’t see why she would…”

“Red,” Spike growled. “Who is this ‘she’?”

“Manon,” Willow replied very low. “Tara noticed that some of our herbs have disappeared, and she found some candle wax on the floor in her room. As far as we can figure, she did something last night.”

“Right when Buffy’s soul went missing,” Spike said coldly.

“That’s why we made the connection,” the Witch said with a nod. “But we really don’t know what she did exactly. We haven’t asked her about it yet, we didn’t tell her about Buffy’s soul, either, to see if she would let something slip, but she didn’t. And we really can’t figure out why she would do something like that.”

Once again, anger was started to boil in Spike’s veins, and it was a struggle not to let the game face come forward. Had the little minx thought that he wouldn’t want a soulless Buffy and therefore would be free for her to take? How badly she was mistaken if that had been her plan!

“I know why,” he said curtly. “Where is she?”

“In the training room.”

“I’m gonna kill the damn girl!”

With that threat, he strode out of the office and toward the back room, barely aware of Willow’s protests and Buffy’s chuckle.

“I want a taste”, his Childe called after him. “Keep some for me, OK?”


Chapter 25 - Confrontations

Despite his warning about the young Slayer’s life, no one followed Spike into the training room. Did they think he was making idle threats? Did they all believe him tamed? More than likely, they did. He hadn’t been much of a mortal threat to any human in a long time. But no human had played with his Slayer like this since before he had the chip removed. He had been ready to kill the annoying nerd for taking a – painful but not life threatening - shot at Buffy. He was more than ready to teach a little lesson to the impudent girl who had played with her soul.

Slipping easily into a predator’s stride, he advanced toward where she was sitting on the matted floor, doing stretching exercises. As he stopped in front of her, keeping his face carefully void of emotions, her own face tilted up and she gave him a hesitant smile.

“Hey, Spike. Back from LA already?”

As she seemed ready to stand, he offered his hand to her. She accepted it, the faintest blush rising in her cheeks. He pulled her up, and immediately twisted her arm behind her back and up, hard, ignoring her little yelp of surprise and pain.

“Did you have fun while we were gone, girl?” he growled into her ear from behind her.

He pushed her away, and she caught herself before she stumbled. As she turned around to face him, there was no mistaking the surprise in her eyes, as well as her fear.

“Sp… Spike? Are you OK?”

“Me?” he asked with mock surprise as he started circling her. “Me, I’m just fine. It’s Buffy, you see. She’s not really been herself since this morning. But you know that, don’t you?”

She moved at the same time as he did, keeping him in front of her while trying to put more distance between them. He could see she was shaking lightly, and couldn’t help thinking that it was too easy.

“How would I know?” she asked, her voice wavering a little. “I haven’t seen her since you two left.”

“You haven’t seen her, but you thought of her, didn’t you? Last night? When you did that little spell of yours?”

If Spike had needed confirmation, he now had it. Her cheeks were suddenly a deep bright red, her eyebrows were up to the ceiling, and she stuttered a little as she said:

“How… how do you know…I thought… thought you’d be glad. That it would all be better ag…”

His anger heightened by her admission, he stopped his circling and went straight to her, a small part of him urging himself not to kill her until he knew exactly what she had done and how to reverse it. She backed up as he approached, until her back was to the wall, her palms flat against it, as if she was trying to disappear into the bricks. His right hand shot up and caught her throat, hard enough to be painful, not tight enough, at least not yet, to be lethal.

“You thought I’d be glad?” he repeated incredulously.

“Why does it matter?” she croaked, both her hands now gripping his as she tried to free herself from him. “It didn’t work anyway.”

“Didn’t work?” Spike roared. “Buffy lost her soul and you dare say your bloody spell didn’t work? And you thought I’d be happy about it?”

She suddenly went limp, and if not for the sudden surprise in her eyes he might have believed he had choked her already.

“Buffy… lost her soul?” she questioned, her shock making her voice no more than a whisper.

She shook her head, or rather tried to, and added, just as low, almost timidly: “What does that have to do with me?”

“You tell me. What spell did you do? Did you think I’d fall into your waiting arms because my Mate wasn’t herself anymore? Was that what you wanted, girl?”

“No,” she said quietly, almost calmly despite her lingering fear. “I wanted to stop loving you. That was my spell. Just to stop being in love with you. It had nothing to do with Buffy or souls. Nothing at all. I swear it. You have to believe me.”

Seconds stretched in the silence that followed, and still Spike’s hand was holding the kid’s so fragile neck, bruising it, undoubtedly. If he was immobile, his mind wasn’t, and was rushing from one thought to the next with vertiginous speed. She said it wasn’t her. Why should he believe her? It wasn’t like she was going to admit anything. And who else could it be? Why else could this have happened? All day, he had tried to find an answer to that question, unsuccessfully. When he had heard Willow, he had hoped, with all his unbeating heart, all his not-so-long gone soul, that it was it, that they had the culprit, and that soon everything would be back to normal. If he admitted that it wasn’t Manon, if he dared believed her, then their only lead so far disappeared, and the risk of not getting his Buffy back, the very thing he had tried not to think about all day long, suddenly became oppressing. And yet, could he not believe her? He had seen and heard her surprise. He did not believe she was that good an actress, however much easier it would have been to think so. He took a good look into her eyes, and found only two things there, naked love and honesty. No dissimulation, no hint that she was lying.

Mentally exhausted, he progressively loosened his hold on her, until his arm fell, limp, at his side.

* * * * *

“You believe me?” Manon asked, not moving one inch from where she stood against the wall, not even to rub her painful throat.

He had to believe her. It was hard enough that he had no feelings for her, she just couldn’t bear it if he didn’t even trust her. Still, he kept silent, his eyes, unfocused, now directed at the floor, seemingly drained of all energy or anger.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” she insisted. “And it’s pretty clear that hurting Buffy is the same as hurting you. You have to believe me.”

She was beginning to fear he had gone catatonic or something when finally he reacted. He nodded, very slowly.

“Hurt me, yes,” he mumbled. “It’s not just her soul that’s gone. It’s mine, too. All day I’ve had to keep her from killing anyone. And now I was ready to do just that. Without even being sure. The wanker cried so much for the four of them, and I was ready to add a fifth to the list.”

Manon wasn’t too sure what he was talking about, all she was certain of was the part about him ready to kill her. She had understood that very clearly when his hand was tightening around her throat.

“Spike, you believe me, right?”

There was a beginning of tears in her voice. He had to, he just had to believe her, or else he might as well finish her. Why couldn’t her spell have worked? It wouldn’t have mattered, then, whether he trusted her or not. Freed of her love for him, she would have worried for Buffy, certainly, but not so much for him.

“Yes.”

A sigh escaped her lips. Tentatively, she reached out to pat his shoulder, giving up when he jerked away.

“We’ll find who hurt her,” she tried to say as convincingly as she could. “And Buffy will be just fine. You’ll see.”

For the first time since he had released her, he raised his eyes to hers, and Manon shivered at the ice and death she saw there.

* * * * *

Buffy wanted to follow Spike into the training room and watch him, maybe help him kill the Slayer, but Willow stopped her, as she asked her cautiously if she would sit down so that Tara could check her aura or something to the effect. Nibbling her bottom lip, Buffy thought for a second. Spike had banged the door shut behind him. That meant two things. One, he wanted to be alone with the kid. Two, he had left her alone with the humans. The orders he had given her still bound her, but in a few minutes she would be free to do as she pleased, if Spike wasn’t back yet. It was worth trying her luck.

Just because she had to sit down and keep still for whatever the Witch was doing didn’t mean however that she couldn’t plan. One by one, she considered the four humans sitting at the research table. They seemed to realize they were being gauged and measured, because all of them, as her eyes detailed them, suddenly started fidgeting and throwing nervous glances at her. As if they could feel that she was imagining how she would kill them. It would have been better with Spike at her side, really. If she had to take care of all of them, she would have to make choices about whose death she absolutely wanted to feel as she drained them, and who she could be satisfied to kill with a simple broken neck. Willow, definitely, had to die first. Too dangerous to give her a chance to do her mojo to protect the others. Same thing for Tara, she might be shy but she wouldn’t hesitate to cast a spell if she believed Willow was in danger or hurt. Xander, now… He had had a thing for her for a long time, it might be interesting to see if he would enjoy her fangs in his flesh, more intimacy than they have ever shared. As for Anya…

“I wonder if pregnant women taste different.”

Her quiet, almost idle comment had the desired effect, and Buffy grinned, satisfied with herself, when the four friends all jumped in identical shock. Anya’s look, especially, was priceless, her eyes widening impossibly as she huddled against her husband. Xander didn’t seem to like the comment, not one little bit.

“The looks were bad enough,” he said, his voice shaking a little, though she couldn’t have said if it was from anger or fear. “But if she says things like this maybe we should gag her.”

“And then what?” Spike’s voice asked suddenly as he strode toward the table. “Then you’ll chain her? Throw her in a bathtub, maybe? Feed her through a straw?”

Buffy smiled at him, glad he was taking her defense, then frowned briefly as she saw the Slayer behind him. Manon didn’t look hurt. What had happened in there then? Suspiciously, she sniffed the hair, trying to get a sense of his scent, and Manon’s. All she could identify was the girl’s fear.

Uncaring whether Tara was done or not, she rose and went to her Sire. As she rubbed against him in front of all of them, she made sure to make eye contact with Manon, sending her a cold smile, so that there was no doubt left for her whom he belonged to.

“All I’m saying,” Xander replied to Spike, “is that we could do without hearing Buffy think out loud about pregnant women’s blood. We’re all upset enough by what’s happening, we really don’t need to be wondering if she wants to eat us.”

Turning in Spike’s arms so that she now faced the table again, Buffy smiled candidly.

“Oh, you don’t have to wonder”, she said brightly. “I…”

Her Sire’s hand covered her mouth and prevented her finishing, but by the silence that fell on the room they had all understood.

“Glinda? Did you find out anything?”

Spike’s quiet question seemed to awaken Tara, as she stopped staring fixedly at Buffy.

“Just confirmed what… what we thought,” the Witch said hesitantly. “Her soul is gone, and magic was involved, but I can’t tell anything more than that.”

The arm that was wrapped around Buffy’s waist tightened its hold just a little, and the hand at her mouth fell down.

“Manon did a spell,” Spike said tiredly, “but it had nothing to do with souls or Buffy”.

“What kind of spell?” Buffy asked, curious, turning just a trifle to look at the young Slayer who was blushing a little as she stared at the floor in front of her.

“Nothing of interest, luv.”

“Hmm, well, maybe we should look into that”, Willow said carefully. “Even with the best intent in the world, a spell can turn very bad… as I am sure you all remember.”

The Witch blushed a little, and Buffy chuckled.

“It was just… an anti-love spell,” Manon murmured, her eyes still glued to the floor.

“Ooooh,” Buffy cooed, “isn’t that sweet, the little…”

Again, a hand pressed to her mouth stifled her words. This time she bit the offending palm, hard, but Spike didn’t even seem to notice.

“Anti-love spell?” Anya commented, regaining her voice since Buffy had scared her. “Apart from being the most stupid kind of spell I ever heard of, I mean, who is desperate enough for that, what does it have to do with Buffy’s soul?”

This time, there were three blushing people, the kid, Willow and Xander, and Buffy snickered. It was just getting funnier by the minute. Almost funny enough that she could forget her thirst. Almost, but not quite. She tried to let them know, but her voice was mostly muffled by Spike’s hand.

“OK. I don’t think Buffy’s presence here is helping, is it?”

Nothing but blank stares answered Spike’s question.

“Fine. We’ll go patrol then. So she won’t be upsetting you, and you can find a way to help her. Willow? Is that OK?”

The redhead nodded. “I’ll call you later,” she promised, “or leave a message if we find anything. Just make sure she’s alright until we find something.”

Without another word, Spike pulled Buffy toward the door, freeing her mouth again. Before they were out, she felt compelled to ask, loud enough for the Scoobies to hear:

“What happens when a pregnant woman is turned, lover?”

Chapter 26 - Frustrations

The sun was just rising on London, a subdued frame of light bordering the heavy drapes over the east-oriented window. Giles very progressively regained conscience, memories of the evening and night flashing through his mind. Very pleasant memories. It certainly wasn’t in his nature, not anymore at least, to be rash and act so impulsively. He doubted it was in Andrea’s either. But the events had flown so smoothly, so perfectly, that he couldn’t see where either of them could have done something different without breaking the magic between them irremediably.

As much as he would have liked to remain in bed a while longer, it was time for him to get up. As cautiously as he could, he tried to slide his shoulder from under Andrea’s head, but despite his care she half opened an eye to look at him sleepily.

“Hey there,” she murmured.

“Good morning,” he replied just as quietly, leaning in to brush his lips to her forehead.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, still in a whisper, but this time with the slightest worry in her tone.

“Just going home to get a change of clothes,” he reassured her, tracing the line of her eyebrows with a light finger.

It wouldn’t have taken much, really, for her to convince him not to go. Who cared if his fellow Watchers noticed he was wearing the same clothes as the day before? Tweed was tweed, and sometimes even he couldn’t tell the difference between some of his own clothes. And what if they didn’t go to the Council at all today? It wasn’t like their work was essential anyway; they barely were even allowed to speak anymore. Andrea must have been more disciplined than he was yet, because she added, somewhat less sleepily:

“’Will see you at work, then. Do you want to have lunch with me?”

“I’d love to.”

He briefly pressed his lips to hers and forced himself to get out of bed. If he didn’t go now, he wouldn’t go at all. Unhurried, he gathered the various pieces of his clothing and got dressed, smiling slightly when he noticed Andrea was watching him, very much awake now.

“Rupert?”

“Yes dear?”

As he kept buttoning his shirt, he looked at her, and noticed the slight worry in her brow.

“I wouldn’t want you to think,” she started, and a faint blush colored her cheeks as she paused.

He had a suspicion where this was going, and sat down on the bed next to her. He captured her hand that had been lying on a pillow, and brought it to his lips.

“I mean, I have dated men before,” she continued, avoiding his eyes, “but I usually don’t…”

“I know,” he interrupted softly her with a warm smile. “Neither do I. Maybe we went a bit fast, but I don’t regret it. If I’ve learned one thing by being a Watcher, it’s that you never know when and from where the next threat is going to come. And sometimes by waiting you just lose the chance of your life, never to see it again.”

A slight, shy smile tugged at her lips. “Do you think I may be the chance of your life?”

For a brief instant, the faces of the few women he had loved flashed through his mind. With all of them, it had been very special, and a couple of times he had even started thinking about taking the next step. He had never arrived to the point of talking about it however, and he definitely wasn’t ready to do that with Andrea now. But he could already easily imagine, at some point in the maybe not so distant future, parting from his late grandmother’s engagement ring.

“Yes,” he said with a smile that mirrored hers. “I think you just may be.”

* * * * *

“No. I said no and that’s the end of it, Childe.”

Slowly but surely, a headache was worming its way in Spike’s skull, and he rubbed his temples as he considered the vampire in front of him, who watched him back with her arms crossed and a deep frown. Ever since they had left the store, she had been pestering him about Manon, first demanding to know why he hadn’t killed the girl, then pleading for him to let her do it. At the beginning, she had tried to cajole him, then she had sulked, and now it was just plain irritation she directed at him. He was all too aware that he was the only thing standing between her and her next fresh meal, be it the young Slayer, one of the Scoobies, or anyone else. All she would need was just to get rid of him, stake him or just beat him until he passed out, and she would be free. And as it was, Spike had only two things in his favor. If he was quick enough, he could stop her with a simple word. And she loved him. Which was why, it appeared, she was so intent in making him a proper vampire again instead of simply liberating herself from him.

“But she is the Slayer,” she repeated once more, her exasperation very clear now. “She hunts our kind, and we kill hers. That’s just the way things are. And you have…”

“Don’t finish that sentence!”

Her mouth closed without another sound, but she gave him an outraged look that told him exactly what she thought of his manners. He hated, truly loathed, doing this to her, controlling her with a few words as if she was his slave. But the last thing he needed right now was another reminder of how many Slayers he had killed and how powerful Slayer blood tasted.

Closing the short distance that separated them, he took her in his arms, holding her as tight as he dared to, and was a little relieved when she relaxed and hugged him back.

“I’m sorry luv,” he whispered against the silk of her hair. “I hate doing this to you, you have to believe me, I really do. But you make things so difficult sometimes…”

Closing his eyes, he tried to find some comfort in her scent. The Witches had to find a solution, and soon, because he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to carry on like this.

“I don’t want to upset you,” she said right against his neck, the words tickling his skin. “But I don’t understand why you protect her. The girl is a threat to us.”

“Not to us, pet. We’re on the same side.”

She pulled away from his embrace, and he sighed at the loss.

“We are vampires,” she said stubbornly, not for the first time. “We’re supposed to kill people. Not other vampires.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to take that fledgling?”

Her eyes narrowed and she turned quickly, her eyes easily catching the shadow that was a hundred yards from them, just now coming out of a little crypt. Within the time it took him to pull out his cigarettes and light one, she had run silently to the unsuspecting vamp. Without hurry, he started walking toward them, catching her every movement as she danced around the poor thing. He half thought of joining her fight when two more vamps came out of the crypt and launched themselves at her, but decided to just watch. They had been patrolling, and arguing, for a couple of hours already, and despite the scarcity of vamps around, Buffy had taken single handedly all of those they had crossed paths with. And she didn’t even have a stake.

The last of the three weak opponents collapsed into ashes as Buffy pulled his heart out, and Spike came closer, hiding his pride as he watched her, hair tousled, eyes gleaming. Gorgeous.

“Killing vamps is what you were born to do, luv. And you do it beautifully.”

She flashed him a bitter grin. “No, killing is what I was born for. But since you won’t let me have the Slayer, I’ll just take whatever else I can get.”

He nodded slowly, repressing one more sigh. He could understand her too well. He, too, had once been desperate for a kill. Any kill. And since demons were the only creatures he could hurt, demons it had been. Exactly what she was doing now, as he played the role of a soul for her. Or was he her chip? If it hadn’t all been so depressing, he might have found it almost humorous.

As he was taking a drag on his fag, Buffy pulled it from his lips, in a gesture so usual that he forgot for a second that she wasn’t quite herself. But before throwing the cigarette away, she brought it to her lips, taking an experimental pull. Looping her arm into his, she started walking again, and he followed.

“So,” she asked bluntly, “can we go grab someone to eat, now?”

* * * * *

It was almost one a.m. when Willow angrily closed the heavy volume she had been reading from. The noise woke Anya and Manon, who had both dozed off, and startled Xander and Tara.

“It’s useless,” she stated tiredly. “We’ve gone through every single book that even mentions the word soul and everything we have on vampires and we’re getting nowhere.”

“Don’t forget to mention,” Tara added with a yawn, “that we checked the spell Manon did as well as the spell that gave Buffy her soul and the initial gypsy curse too.”

Willow threw a quick glance at Manon, and the girl was still blushing. She had been awfully embarrassed ever since she had admitted to them whom it was she had tried to fall out of love with. She had also protested that they had believed she had tried anything to hurt Buffy, until they explained that spells had sometimes the most unexpected results. She had shown to them exactly what she had done, what words and herbs she had used, and Willow, Tara and Anya all agreed that there was no way it could have had any effect on Buffy, or even on Manon herself. It would have taken a truly powerful Witch to make that spell work, for it pulled its power from the person who cast it. More power than Manon would probably ever develop, especially now that they had made sure she understood that magic could be dangerous.

“So, does that mean you’ll agree with me now?” Anya asked.

Ever since hearing Buffy’s comments about pregnant women, Anya’s suggestion had been to just stake her, since it was obvious she was after their blood. The ex-demon seemed to have had no trouble understanding that she was responsible for her child’s safety, and if it meant getting rid of an old friend that had become dangerous, she saw nothing wrong with that.

“An”, Xander tried once more, patiently. “I know you’re upset, but we’ll find a way to make Buffy right again, and she will be very sorry for what she said and will apologize to you.”

Remembering the brief visit of her now soulless friend earlier, Willow couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her. Immediately, Tara’s hand was on her back, rubbing softly, trying to soothe her. They just had to do something to help Buffy, just like she had helped them many times. And Willow had this nagging feeling that maybe it was her fault, maybe her spell had been flawed and that was why Buffy had lost her soul. They had reviewed that spell too, but had found no clue either.

“I think we’ll have to call Giles,” she suggested at last, “and see if the Council can help.”

That had been the third thing Spike had told her in the morning. Buffy has lost her soul. Do your mojo as soon as you can. Don’t tell the Watcher.

“What if Spike is right?” Xander asked, and he too sounded exhausted. “What if the Council hears about it and decides to dust her, soul or no soul?”

“What if we never find the answer and Buffy decides to eat all of us?” Anya shot back coldly.

“Spike wouldn’t let her.”

It was the first comment Manon had made in hours, and she hesitated just a little when she said his name. A ring of purplish bruises was slowly appearing around her neck, no doubt inflicted by Spike, but she seemed to hold no bad feelings for either vampire.

“Spike can control her,” Willow agreed, “but for how long? How long until it gets too hard for him? Or until she convinces him he doesn’t have to be good anymore?”

There was a short silence. A soulless Buffy was bad enough, but if Spike joined her…

“Remember what she told us,” Xander said with a sigh, “when Spike decided to get the chip out? She said he didn’t need to be cursed with a soul, because he had hers. As much as I am willing to admit he changed, he did it for one reason and one only. Buffy. And I have this very nasty feeling that if she wants him to change back, he will.”

There was nothing to add to that. Spike loved Buffy, they all knew it. Spike was ready to do anything for Buffy, they knew that too with an absolute certainty. They just had to hope that Buffy would regain her soul before Spike lost whatever remained of his.

* * * * *

Buffy could have screamed in frustration.

Her Sire didn’t want her to kill anyone that shared their blood. He didn’t want her to kill anyone that had been her friend. He didn’t want her to kill the Slayer. He didn’t want her to kill any human, period.

All he left to her raging demon were other demons to have fun with. But if pummeling a vamp before turning it to ashes felt surprisingly good, it still wasn’t the same as sinking her fangs into warm, pulsating flesh, and she was desperate to finally feel a life disappear as she drained its owner.

After a while, she thought she had understood why he was so reluctant to hunt with her among the population of Sunnydale. Not so long ago, he had promised to her other self not to hurt any human unless she agreed to it first. She tried to tell him that he had her permission now, but he only laughed, and told her he would believe that if she said it again once she had her soul back. Which, if Buffy had anything to say about it, would be never.

Couldn’t he see how much better she felt now that she was like him? How much she enjoyed her newfound freedom? Of course, it would have been incredibly better if they had been hunting instead of arguing, if he had been teaching instead of restricting her.

Trying to change the angle of attack to get better results, she suggested something she knew he very much wanted: leaving town. Maybe once they were away from these streets her human and souled selves had protected, Spike would be able to put the past behind them, and follow his instincts. He couldn’t have forgotten the thrill of the kill, could he? Even if he had, she would make him remember. There was so much love in his eyes for her, so much hurt every time he gave her a Sire’s order, that he wouldn’t be able to fight himself as well as her for very long. All she had to do was push him in the direction his demon was inclined to go, and she just knew he would eventually give in. As much as leaving Sunnydale and the Scoobies alive felt like unfinished business, visiting other towns, even other countries with her Sire was appealing. Especially if he gave up this nonsense about not killing humans.

They were slowly returning toward Revello Drive when they passed by a narrow alley where a mugging was taking place. Buffy would have continued on her way, but Spike’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Rolling her eyes, she followed him noiselessly toward the two thieves and their lone victim. Said victim was very alluring to Buffy’s senses, her neck left bare by her tank top, her scent fascinating by the fear it contained. But it was clear that Spike intended to help the girl, so Buffy placed her attention instead on the muggers who were still oblivious to the presence of creatures much more dangerous than they were. At Spike’s signal, she jumped on the one she was closest to. But while her Sire quickly neutralized the other one, she herself finally did what had been denied to her for too long, and sank her fangs in the man’s neck. Blood flooded her mouth and mind, and she was barely aware of the alarmed shout of the woman they had helped as she fled away. All she could see was Spike, immobile in front of her, silent as he watched her feed. All she could hear was the heart of her prey beating suddenly faster, very obligingly carrying more blood to her demanding lips. She knew that soon it would start slowing down, soon…

“Let him go.”

With a growl of frustration, she obeyed, letting the man fall to his knees in front of her, paying him no attention now that the kill had once again escaped her.

“Why?” she complained, licking her lips clean of the so sweet blood.

“You scared him enough,” Spike said blankly. “He won’t ever think of stealing a penny again.”

As he talked, he had bent down, taken the man’s shaking hand and pressed it to the bleeding punctures. Then he had pressed his own fingers to the other side of his neck, checking, no doubt, the strength of the human’s pulse. His voice seemingly uncaring, he suggested to the man to get himself to the ER, and, catching Buffy’s hand, he pulled her out of the alley without another glance at the other unconscious human.

As they walked to their lair in silence, Buffy couldn’t help smiling to herself. Earlier that day, Spike had claimed he would keep her from hurting anyone. But after a few hours of questions and arguments, he had already let her feed. Only a couple of mouthfuls, but it was a beginning. She was confident that in no time at all they would be hunting together.

* * * * *

“He bit someone?! And she let him?!”

Riley had been imagining a lot since he had met the strange couple that were the Slayer and the vampire. He had been very much trying not to imagine, but he couldn’t help it. However, this was worse than anything he had thought of. The vampire was free of the chip, and Buffy was allowing him to feed off humans.

“Well, I didn’t actually see it, sir”, the soldier said, uneasy. “I couldn’t look into the alley without being spotted. I just heard some shouts, a woman ran away, then I saw them come out, and when I checked the alley there was an unconscious man on the ground and another one with two holes in his neck. I took him to the hospital, he won’t die but he was pretty shocked.”

Buffy would certainly have many reasons to be grateful once he finally pulled her out of this thrall, Riley thought wryly. Though how she had managed to get herself in so deep, and how none of her friends could see what Spike was up to, he couldn’t understand. In any case, it was time to put an end to it.

“We’ve waited enough,” he said strongly, though he wasn’t particularly talking to the soldier in front of him. “At the first occasion now, we strike. Even if there are people around. We just can’t let this nonsense go on forever.”

Chapter 27 - Necessary and unneeded words

Lying on his side, his cheek resting on his closed fist, Spike was watching the delicious creature that was sleeping right next to him. Her head was against his chest, her arm around him, holding him close, one of her legs trapped between his. Her lips were curled up in a contented smile, and every now and then she made that adorable little purr sound. A couple of lit pillar candles cast dancing shadows on the room and on her as he detailed this face he knew so well. Earlier, he had had doubts that this was his Buffy. Now, the doubts were gone.

* * * * *

He had let Buffy drink. He had allowed her to bite someone and take blood. True, she had bitten before he could react, but he could have stopped her immediately instead of very deliberately waiting. He couldn’t have said why. Maybe to give her an idea of what he did when he hunted wrongdoers to scare them? Maybe because she had just begged her way through his defenses? He didn’t know why. All he knew was that now he felt nauseous, and had a very strong urge to apologize to his Childe for simply letting her do what she had wanted to do all day long.

They were walking back home, having left the car in the alley by the shop. Sunrise was still a couple of hours away, but Spike felt worn out. Buffy, on the other hand, had a light bounce to her step. He could see from the corner of his eye that she was smiling, and it was a surprise. He had expected her to complain that he had stopped her before she could kill the man. But she wasn’t complaining. She wasn’t saying anything, actually. Just smiling and humming lightly.

As they came in, she shrugged out of her duster and left it on the banister, then went up the steps, turning briefly to blow him a kiss from the tip of her fingers. He watched her disappear upstairs, a little puzzled by her attitude, but too tired to think about it. He went in the kitchen to check if Willow had left a message, and indeed she had. But her few words did not announce her success as he had hoped. Instead she apologized for not finding answers and announced she had called Giles and asked his and the Council’s help. And Spike couldn’t help but wonder if this day in hell would ever stop. He had a sickening idea of how the Council would help, and it involved a stake and ashes. He doubted Giles would be able to stop them, and wasn’t even completely sure he would want to.

Trying to stifle the despair that was tightening his throat, he joined Buffy upstairs. She was waiting for him by the door, clad in a long red silk gown, his favorite, and he was surprised to see a long satin ribbon in her hands. He was usually the one who initiated this kind of games. She silenced his questions with a finger on his lips, and brought the ribbon up, silently asking for his permission. Once again unwilling to deny her what she wanted, he nodded his assent, and she tied the black length over his eyes as a blindfold.

With his sight gone, he paid more attention to his other senses, and noticed the faint music that played in the background, soft piano notes, calming rhythms. Buffy brushed against his back, startling him as he hadn’t noticed she had moved, and he took a sharp intake of breath that brought to his nose the lavender and sage scent of the candles that lit the room.

Still behind him, Buffy took hold of his duster and pulled it off his shoulders. Then his unbuttoned shirt and his t-shirt followed, until he could feel the silk of her garment against his bare back as she slipped her arms around him, hugging him from behind. Her skin was as soft as the silk, and he let out a little sigh as his jeans suddenly were becoming uncomfortably tight.

“I want you,” she whispered right against his ear, her tongue darting out to trace his earlobe, and he shivered at both the words and touch.

She nudged him forward, and at the same time he felt her remove his belt and unbutton his pants. When his knees touched the bed, she pulled his jeans just past his waist and asked him in a silky whisper to sit down. He obeyed her request, a small part of his mind wondering if maybe her soul had finally returned. The softness and care she displayed were light years from the aggressive coupling she had demanded earlier. He didn’t give the idea much attention, though, because Buffy was now in front of him, removing his boots, socks and jeans, and the little devil was deliberately breathing right against very sensitive parts of his aroused anatomy.

Her forced breathing stopped, and he almost whimpered because she wasn’t touching him at all anymore. Yet he knew she was still there, because he hadn’t heard her move, and her scent was all around him, tantalizingly close. He had no warning. Her tongue was suddenly caressing his length, excruciatingly slow, bathing each inch of him but avoiding the very tip. Unwittingly, he brought his hands toward her, just trying to touch her, but she batted them away. Gently, she pushed against his chest to make him lay down and asked him to move up on the bed. Once more, he did as she asked without a word. Ordering her around all day long had become painful, and he was glad to give her back all control. At least for now.

Lying flat on his back, his arms up above his head, he waited for her touch to return, trying to fake a patience he had never had. The caresses resumed, but not where he had expected and hoped. Butterfly kisses right along the bottom line of the blindfold soon became tiny licks down his cheek and to his mouth. It was torture not to reciprocate, and he couldn’t help parting his lips to invite her in. For an instant longer, her tongue ran along his lips, as if to point out she was following her own agenda, then it slid in, caressing his tongue as an old friend before exploring his mouth thoroughly, with particular attention to where his fangs hid, but he refused to let them come into play. Soft and nice was perfect, no need to bring blood into it. She finally abandoned his mouth and traveled on his throat, nibbling her way down without ever coming anywhere close to biting, paying special attention to the already healing marks she had left on him in the afternoon.

As she was kissing him, she had moved on the bed so that her body was now alongside his. It became very difficult not to move when he realized the gown had disappeared, and it was now the silk of her skin that stroked his flesh. Always down, she went, stopping on her way to tease his flat nipples in turn, nibbling again until she reached and licked his navel. He was shivering by then, his body tense with anticipation, but her course shifted as she reached what he had thought was her goal, and she turned her attention to his left thigh instead. A quiet moan escaped his lips, and he could feel hers curve into a smile against his skin.

“Anything you want?” she asked softly, and he could feel the air moved by her words just at the base of his cock.

“Just you,” he replied, and his voice was thick with need.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

He jerked when she shifted over him and gradually crawled up. Her hard nipples drew twin lines of fire as they caressed his body, and soon they were right against his chest, her mouth was back to his, and her hand was slowly guiding him into her moist depths. They both sighed in contentment when he was finally buried in her to the hilt.

He was surprised when, instead of starting to move against him, she tugged the blindfold and returned his sight to him. He watched her as she watched him, her face too serious.

“Who do you see?” she asked quietly.

“You. My Buffy.”

She nodded slightly. “Your Buffy. Even without it, I’m still me. Still yours. You know that, right?”

Without it… It took him a couple of seconds to realize what ‘it’ was. And a couple more to understand she was just proving him she didn’t need a soul to be his as much as she had been before.

“I know,” he agreed with a small smile. “All mine.”

“All yours.”

Her fingers laced with his above his head and she started rocking her hips, her eyes never leaving his. There were no more words until the end. No fangs, no shared blood. For a short moment of eternity, there were just a man and a woman, two demons, dancing a dance that was older than time.

* * * * *

If he had let her know in any way how far from him she had seemed when they slept together the previous afternoon, Spike might have wondered if she had put up a show to convince him she was still the same. But he was very sure he had not let his feelings appear. So this surprisingly tender lovemaking had come from her and her only. Which meant, as she had said, that she was still the same. Still Buffy. Still his.

Very lightly, he pressed his lips to the top of her head, and carefully extricated himself from her embrace. A brief frown crossed her face then, which disappeared when he stroked her back soothingly. Picking up his jeans, he tiptoed to the door, giving her a last loving glance before he walked out of the room. All his.

A few minutes later, he was in the kitchen, an empty mug in front of him, a cigarette at his lips, thinking, when the phone rang and broke his train of thought. He picked it up before the second ring, hoping that he had been quick enough to spare his Mate’s sleep. It was already the middle of the afternoon, but they had had a long night.

“Red?” he said immediately, hopeful despite himself. “Found something?”

The voice however was not the one he expected.

“No, Spike, this is Giles. How is Buffy?”

“You know how she is,” Spike replied coldly. “Red told you.”

There was a pause, and Spike could very well picture the Watcher taking off his glasses for some pointless polishing.

“She told me disturbing things, yes.”

“And you told the Council of Wankers?”

“I am afraid I had to,” the man said, maybe a little too defensively. “We need all the help we can get to return her soul to Buffy as soon as we can.”

Spike mumbled something that might have passed for agreement.

“We are… we are coming to Sunnydale,” the Watcher added, now hesitant.

“We?”

“Me, Andrea, the new Slayer, and some members of the Council, including some magic specialists.”

A warning sounded in Spike’s mind at the word Slayer.

“Why bring the new Slayer, Rupert?” he asked suspiciously.

There was another pause. “The Council wants her to meet Buffy and train a little with her. Once she has her soul back, of course.”

“Of course,” Spike repeated blandly.

“We will be in Sunnydale in a couple of days.”

“OK.”

The man let out a quiet sigh that Spike barely heard, and he added, very quiet now:

“Take care of her, please. Don’t let her do anything she’ll regret.”

After a few parting words, Giles hang up, and Spike let himself slide against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. They were going to kill her. He had feared the reaction of the Council ever since he had realized Buffy had lost her soul and now there was no doubt left in his mind. They were bringing a second Slayer to Sunnyhell, as well as Witches or Warlocks, and no one would make him believe they did not intend to kill Buffy if they didn’t immediately manage to restore her soul. Would they even try?

His hands shaking, he lit another cigarette and tried to calm down. Buffy was his Childe and Mate, two very powerful reasons for him to do everything that was in his power to keep her safe. And he had promised. Pledged himself to her. The soul he didn’t have any more. The dreams he wanted to live with her. The nights he wanted to spend at her side, in her arms. All of it was hers. All of him.

Minutes ran as he thought. He finished the cigarette and lit another one, using his empty mug as an ashtray. The decision wasn’t that hard to make, even though it meant breaking away from all they had. And everyone. At least, she wouldn’t want to eat anyone they knew anymore. His mind made up, he pondered the next thought for a while. In the end, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. He just couldn’t disappear without a word. He knew firsthand how much that kind of things hurt.

“Angels Investigation. We help…”

The poof sounded tired and worried despite the fake interest in his voice. Spike was already regretting having called, his Sire certainly didn’t need to lose any more sleep, when he paused in the middle of his canned greeting and added, almost in a whisper:

“Spike?”

The vampire almost smiled around his fag, wondering how the human had guessed.

“Yeah, Peaches, it’s me. Feeling better?”

“Just fine. How are you?”

“Buffy’s still soulless. Pretty damn happy about it too. She’d make a great huntress, y’know.”

Come to think of it, she had always been.

“No Spike,” Angel said slowly. “How are you?”

The concern in that faraway voice felt like warm honey, but Spike didn’t let it touch him.

“Me? I’m peachy. Just fucking wonderful, I am.”

A bit too enthusiastic, maybe, because the poof seemed to see right through it.

“William.”

The softly uttered name broke down Spike’s facade. As he sat on the kitchen’s floor, the phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he allowed his fears to get to the surface.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked hollowly. “I had gotten used to blood bags. Used to wearing a white hat. All for her. Anything for her. And now all she wants, for her and for me, is what I denied myself for years.”

There was a short pause, followed by a quiet but forceful statement.

“You’re strong. You can do this until her soul is back. I know you can.”

Spike took a long drag on his cigarette, holding the smoke in, trying not to let himself say too much, but failing in the end.

“That’s just the thing, Peaches. Will she ever get it back?”

“What?”

Angel sounded startled, to say the least. He probably hadn’t thought one second Buffy wouldn’t get her soul back. Hadn’t wanted to think about it. Just like Spike had tried to ignore the possibility. But he couldn’t play that game anymore, not when her unlife was at risk.

“Willow didn’t find anything,” Spike explained morosely. “She called the Watcher. He’s coming here with his friends, the wankers.”

“Giles wouldn’t hurt her.”

How Spike wished there hadn’t been that almost imperceptible hesitation in Angel’s voice that echoed his own doubts…

“Giles wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But the others? I don’t think we’re going to stay and find out.”

“What… what do you mean?”

“I mean… Buffy wants to go away. Travel. And it might just be the best solution for us.”

Angel didn’t say anything, but Spike heard the unasked question.

“I can’t. Can’t argue with her every night, every minute, about why she shouldn’t kill anyone. My Mate wants to be a true vamp. I’ll be a true vamp with her. There’s nothing stopping either of us any longer.”

Another silence, and Spike started to wonder if he had made a mistake. Was Angel getting any staking ideas? He hadn’t planned to say all this when he had called. He just wanted to make sure his Sire was alright. But the words were coming out almost by themselves.

“I understand,” Angel said at last. “More than I wish I did.”

Taking a long drag on his fag, Spike let the smoke out with a sigh, and asked, very quietly:

“Was she right?”

“About what?”

“Did you want it?”

And once more, the silence, until Angel murmured:

“God help me, but, yes, some part of me wanted it. Glad you stopped her, though.”

“’Couldn’t just let a fledgling turn my Sire,” Spike tried to say on a light, joking tone. “If anyone’s gonna do it, it’s me.”

“Yes Childe,” Angel replied, and there was no humor in his voice. “It would be you.”

Spike would have given a bloody lot to be in front of Angel right now, to be able to look into his eyes and see what was or was not there.

“So,” the human asked. “When will you leave?”

“Dunno. Tonight or tomorrow. Before the wankers arrive. We’ll send you postcards on our way.”

“Don’t.”

There was pain in that simple word, as if it had cost a lot to Angel to say it.

“Afraid they might track us through our mail?” Spike asked, frowning at the thought.

“No,” Angel replied in a murmur. “Afraid I might decide to join you.”

Calling had been a bad idea. The worst idea ever. They should just have dropped by on the way and asked him, face to face, what he wanted. Too late now.

“Do you need anything? Fake passports? Money?”

Again, too much concern. Way too much for Spike’s comfort.

“Yeah, I suppose we could use both,” he mumbled.

“I can have them ready for you tomorrow night. You need anything else?”

Nope. Nothing. You’re doing more than you should already. I don’t know why you bother but really I didn’t…

“You.”

As soon as the word escaped Spike’s lips, he regretted it, because there was nothing but silence answering that whisper. Until finally another whisper rose through the line.

“Spike… I…”

One corner of Spike’s mouth curled up in a sad half smile.

“That's OK, Peaches. You don’t have to say anything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Don’t really want you with us anyway. You and your habits of stealing my girls.”

The words could have been harsh, prelude to a war. But they were delivered in a slightly teasing tone, and Angel picked up on the bantering.

“Well, you’re the one with the habit of falling in love with my girls.”

“Hey, not my fault. You’re a big poof, but you have good taste.”

“And you are the unliving proof of that.”

Despite himself, Spike laughed. A real laugh, if just a little sad, soon echoed by Angel’s.

“So, you’ll come get the papers tomorrow?” the human asked after a few seconds.

“Yeah. I’ll just be in and out, don’t want Buffy to get ideas about you again. Don’t want to see the kids either, too much to explain.”

And if he stayed more than a few seconds, he might get tempted to tempt Angel.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Take care of you. And of her.”

“Always. You do the same, Peaches. You’re the mortal one, now.”

“I will.”

Was it time for goodbyes already? Spike had never been good at goodbyes.

“Angel?”

“Yes Spike?”

There were actually many things he wasn’t good at saying. Like the words that were burning his lips and mind now. He had been beaten, once, long ago, for daring to say them while he thought his Sire was asleep. He had never made that mistake a second time. And still couldn’t seem to make himself say them. But maybe he didn’t need to, after all.

“I know, William. Me too.”

Smiling a grateful smile that he was very glad Angel couldn’t see, Spike hung up the phone. Filled with a new resolve now that he had a plan, he sauntered back to his sleeping lover, wondering whether to tell her about his decision or to keep it a secret until they actually left. Slipping back into her arms, he decided to make it a surprise for her, because right now his mouth had found more interesting things to do than talk.

Chapter 28 - Watching

Sitting in a nicely comfortable armchair, a glass of scotch in hand, Giles was pretending very hard not to hear the insistent knocking on the door. He had a pretty good idea of who was trying to intrude and right now had no particular wish to see the lady. Taking a swig from his glass, he let out a sigh. He wasn’t even fooling himself. Of course he wanted to see her. And talk some sense into her. Except that she was proving to be just as inflexible as her father. In any other case, he might have enjoyed hearing her arguments and trying to convince her with his own. But it was Buffy’s life that was in the balance and there were no compromises possible.

* * * * *

“I can’t believe I left Manon with them!”

“How could you have guessed?”

They were back in Quentin Travers’ old office, one of the rare places they could talk without anyone within earshot. He had settled into one of the so uncomfortable chairs, and was already regretting it, while she was in front of the window, looking out.

“It’s my job to guess,” Andrea insisted. “I’m her Watcher, I have to keep her safe. And instead I leave her in the care of two vampires.”

“Even the High Council told you it was OK”, Giles reminded her softly.

“It was before they knew Buffy lost her soul. It’s valuable for the Slayer to train with friendly vampires, but it’s not OK when they turn murderous.”

Giles shut his eyes tight, wishing that when he opened them he would discover it was just all a horrible nightmare. He had thought that Buffy being turned had been the most dreadful experience of his life as her Watcher, coming very close to seeing her broken body at the foot of Glory’s tower. But this… Learning that after three peaceful years, and right after preventing one more apocalypse, she was now soulless and, according to Willow, seemingly impatient to drink warm human blood… The one thing all Watchers feared for their Slayers. Because if it happened, it was the Watcher’s responsibility to see that the undead Slayer became ashes. His responsibility, for, supposedly, a turned Slayer never waited long before coming after her Watcher. But he wouldn’t let that happen to her. They would find a way. They had to find a way. And, in the meantime, all of Giles’ hopes rested on a creature he had loathed for a long time, until their quiet truce evolved slowly into something very close to friendship. Spike had to restrain her. Willow had confirmed that was what he was doing, and on the phone the vampire had said he wouldn’t let her do anything she would have to feel guilty for.

“Spike will control her,” Giles said, once more, with all the confidence he could muster. “Manon and everybody else will remain safe until Buffy regains her soul.”

She turned to him, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but she didn’t dare to.

“I can admit that Spike is an unusual vampire,” she said slowly. “And I am grateful to him for saving Manon’s life, more so than I can say. But are you really, completely sure that he will control her? He may act like he has one, but he doesn’t have a soul either. What is to prevent him from going on a killing spree with her?”

Giles blocked out the thought. He just refused to think one second about that possibility.

“He knows her soul will be restored, sooner or later. He won’t let her be hurt by her own guilt. He loves her too much for that.”

“What if we can’t restore her soul?” Andrea persisted. “What if…”

“Don’t”, Giles interrupted her, rising from the chair. “We will find a way. We have to.”

“There is nothing in our books. Seventy-eight Watchers are rereading everything they can for the second time today, but you know it as well as I do, they would have found it the first time around if there was anything. And if we don’t find anything, she is too great a menace to be allowed...”

He opened the door and turned back to look at her.

“When you’ve been Manon’s Watcher for a decade,” he said coldly, “when you’ve seen her bleed and cry and still keep fighting so many times that you wish you could just take her burden away and let her live the life that has been stolen from her, then you can tell me again what we can allow Buffy to do or not.”

With that, he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly, he strode to the master index, the one book that listed every single volume the Council possessed. There had to be something else, something they hadn’t looked through yet. And he would find it.

* * * * *

He hadn’t found anything. Neither he nor any of all the Watchers present in London. They still had a few books to check, there were a few volumes missing from the library, borrowed by some Watchers abroad, and they were trying to contact the last few of them. But for Giles, all hope was gone. For a moment, he had dared believe in another possibility, but the Council had quickly stopped him in his tracks.

The Mage wasn’t really his friend. Just an acquaintance, really. And he had only helped out before with Angel to pay off his very unusual debt. But Giles had trusted that he would be willing to help against some kind of payment, and he had contacted him. He had no idea then what the payment would be, and had been surprised when the answer had come. A trinket. The Mage would agree to help Buffy for a trinket. But not just any kind of trinket. A pendant. One that was worth as much as half of the Crown Jewels. One that had magical powers that the Council was reluctant to let anyone but high ranking Watchers know about. More powers, it was rumored, than the Council even knew. Just a bauble, really, hidden in a safe in the headquarters’ basement, unseen and untouched by anyone for years. A bauble the Council would never let go.

Bringing his glass back to his lips, Giles realized with surprise that it was empty. And noticed at the same time what he had been successfully ignoring so far, the continuous banging on his door by a very determined person.

Sighing, he rose to his feet, not very sure whether he was going to get a refill or open the door. He finally did both.

“My dear, I think you are the most obstinate and annoying person I ever had the pleasure to meet.”

To his own ears he didn’t sound inebriated, but he couldn’t deny, at least not to himself, that his head wasn’t quite so clear right now. Andrea seemed to notice, because she crossed her arms in that so exasperating feminine fashion, and eyed the glass in his hand reproachfully.

“Are you going to let me in?” she asked coolly.

Giving her a mock bow, he took a step back and allowed her in.

“Drinking is not going to help Buffy,” she remarked, still very calm, as she entered his apartment.

“It’s not going to kill her either”, Giles shot back. “And neither am I.”

She sighed softly and shook her head. “Even if it came to that, you know they wouldn’t ask you to do it. They would send Manon and Chloe. Or a full team. Or the Slayers and a full team.”

“And Buffy would best them all with one hand tied be...”

He frowned and tilted his head. “Even if?” he asked, surprised. “They said earlier that it was decided, either we found a solution before we got there, or she was dust.”

“You commented yourself that I am the most obstinate person you know, didn’t you?”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips as she slowly removed her gloves, and Giles could only watch her in silence, not daring to let himself hope again.

“They will give him the pendant,” she said softly. “They want to talk to her first, make sure she’s not too far gone, but they agreed to pay the price of your Mage.”

Giles mouth opened, words already filling his mind, questions and thanks mixed together, but she placed a finger across his lips to silence him.

“Do realize,” she said very seriously, “that if Buffy has already killed humans, with or without Spike’s help, or if the Mage can’t help, she might still get staked.”

He nodded, slowly, knowing that it would never get to that. Spike wouldn’t let her. And the Mage would be able to help. He was just certain of it.

* * * * *

So far, for everything that concerned Hostile 17 and its removal, there had been one very clear rule: do not let anyone know that anything akin to the Initiative was back in Sunnydale. And when the orders said anyone, they really meant any of the so-called Scoobies. So that meant no uniforms when they were on mission. And, of course, nothing that could alert anyone who had seen the weapons before. No tasers, no walkie-talkies, not one of the many little gadgets that would have made their lives so much simpler.

But that rule had changed. They had believed the vampire still unable to hurt anyone, which meant that they had time. The events of the previous night proved that he could hurt again. No time left to watch and wait.

So the high tech toys were out in full force. And so was the team. Two nondescript vans, each packed full. A nice little device revealed someone, a woman judging by her curves, under a hot shower on the first floor. And someone else, in the kitchen, who appeared on the screen at the same temperature as the air around him. It was now or never. Riley gave the order, and was among the first to run to the backyard.

* * * * *

At that moment, if Cordelia had had a body, she would have screamed her irritation and thrown a very memorable temper tantrum. Something to shake everything from Heaven to Hell. It was even more infuriating to know that it would take barely more than a snap of her fingers to right that awful mess. And the Powers That Be only knew how much her fingers itched! Except that she didn’t really have fingers here.

It might have been better if Angel stopped calling out to her. She could have answered him, but to tell him what? That she knew, had known at the moment it happened, but wouldn’t do a thing about it? No, she couldn’t say that. He wouldn’t understand. After all, she wasn’t even sure she understood herself. Wasn’t sure she would be able not to do a thing if she started thinking about it too deeply.

Something else might have helped. If only she could have taken her mind and incorporeal eyes off the two vamps… But she kept watching, with the sick fascination and certainty that she was going to assist in a horrendous, monstrous train wreck, with the knowledge that it would be incredibly easy to stop it before it got too far, with the awareness that she couldn’t.

And now… with these idiots who thought they were so smart… Spike would unlive or die his final death, Buffy would create a carnage or control herself, her soul would return or not, the Council would be broken or strengthened, the two Slayers would survive or a new one would be Called, the Scoobies would be fine or shattered… A snap of her fingers was all it would have taken. But she would keep watching and do nothing else until the end. And just hope it would end quickly and well.

Chapter 29 - Traces Left

I just want to tell you
That your face and your smile
Will remain next to me
Always along my way
Want to say it was real
All we did
All we said
All we didn’t do or say
I don’t want to regret
Even the pain and hurt
Were real and worth it
Maybe we’ll meet again
Maybe we will
Maybe not
Just know I’ll still be there
It will remain, this other flame
Warming me and warming her
A part of you that shall not die

* * * * *

Spike frowned at the computer screen, and hesitated between laughing and cursing. One thing was sure, it wasn’t his soul that made him a bad poet. That particular trait seemed to have persisted through undeath. But then again, he had never really had any doubt about it.

Shaking his head at the latest of his pathetic attempts at poetry, he repeatedly hit the backspace key until the whole thing had disappeared into nothingness. One thing he liked about computers… no papers to burn, no traces left when he once more realized his skills were still adamantly lacking.

For a little while, his finger remained on the key as he tried to decide. Should he erase all the stuff his souled self had written a couple of weeks before? He hadn’t read any of it again since his return to vamphood, but he had no doubt that it was just pitiful. And yet… writing these things had helped him survive, just as Buffy had. Most of them were about her, too. For her. He had let her read a couple of them, the ones that seemed not as bad as the rest. He certainly wouldn’t let her read any more of it now; he didn’t quite fancy being on the receiving end of that recently too blunt tongue. But at the same time, he couldn’t make himself erase these words that ultimately belonged to her.

He planned to take the laptop when they left, maybe use it to keep in contact with Dawn just a little, make sure she was alright. Maybe. Or maybe not. Would it even be safe? Could they be tracked through the net? That was a possibility to check out. He couldn’t leave anything to chance.

Leaving the computer on, he sauntered into the kitchen. He could still hear Buffy’s shower running, so he had a little more time to finish his transfers – he was leaving Buffy’s laptop behind, with all the data for the online Magic Box, so that Anya wouldn’t need to start again from scratch.

As he emptied a bag of blood into a mug to warm it, the thought suddenly struck him that maybe it was the last time he would be doing this particular thing. Tonight, they would be on their way. As soon as she came down, he would tell her. They would keep a low profile until the next night, then they would go see the poof and get their passports before heading out of the country. Maybe grab a bite before leaving the town completely, LA was big enough that they could hunt safely away from the Hyperion. Enough wrongdoers who deserved a painful death, too. He was pretty sure he could convince Buffy that murderers and rapists tasted better than common folks. Not that he had ever cared one way or the other in the past, it just was a last tribute he wanted to pay to his Slayer’s soul if he could.

The microwave beeped and startled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t hunted in so long… Really hunted. The bastards he had been punishing for the last few months didn’t count, because he always knew he wouldn’t kill them. But a real hunt… Picking out a prey, playing with it just a little, and then draining it dry… And doing all of this with his Childe… The blood he was sipping from the mug suddenly tasted very bland, even if it was human.

For some reason, he just couldn’t picture himself really hunting with her. And yet, he had seen very clearly that she was just as much a demon as he was. Maybe more, even, because she had no qualms killing people she had known, while he…

He had maybe two seconds of warning between the time he heard abnormal noises in the backyard and the moment the back door burst open. The mug shattered on the floor, spilling blood everywhere, as his foot caught the first intruder in the middle of the chest, sending him backward against his fellow trespassers. It didn’t slow them down though, and Spike just had the time to realize that these people suspiciously looked like his old friends of the Initiative before a couple of them shocked him with tasers. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Soldierboy, a stake in his hand, and he just had time to think that Buffy would kill the wanker, and that it would be a pity for him not to see that.

* * * * *

The day was long for Manon, and incredibly boring. Willow and Tara, after her little attempt at magic, seemed reluctant to leave her alone, so they awoke her early and dragged her to the Magic Box with them. Willow had called the programming company where she worked, and Tara her preschool, both claiming to be sick so that they could research some more on Buffy’s soulless state. Manon was a bit puzzled by it, since the night before they had agreed that they would probably find nothing and needed the help of the Council. Andrea had phoned earlier, to make sure Manon was alright and safe with the Witches, and announce that she was coming back to Sunnydale with other Watchers to find a solution. So really, all they needed was to wait, and the problem would soon have an answer. Except that the two women, as well as Xander, kept researching as if no help was on the way. Anya was the only one who had given up.

So, all day long, she was trapped in the store, with nothing to do but train alone, since the Scoobies had decided it was more prudent not to let her look through magic books. It wasn’t long until her thoughts settled on the two absent vampires. She was sorry for Buffy, sincerely, because she had liked the kindness of her elder, and, from the little she had witnessed, the new soulless Buffy was anything but kind, at least not to anyone human. She was also sad for Spike. True, he had come very close to killing her, and the ring of fading bruises around her neck was a proof of that, but she had seen afterwards how deeply he was shaken by what was happening to Buffy, so she couldn’t really hold it against him. She only wished he didn’t know about her attempted spell. He must really think she was pathetic, now, if he had time to think a second about her, which she really doubted.

Finally, by the end of the afternoon, the Scoobies decided to visit the not so friendly anymore vamps. Anya declined to go, and forbade Xander to tempt fate by meeting Buffy. So it was just the Witches and Manon who went there to check if Spike was still in control of the situation, and of Buffy.

When they knocked on the door, no one answered. Exchanging a worried glance with Tara, Willow tried to open the door, finding it unlocked, and they all entered, as quietly as they could. There was no sound in the house. The living room was empty, and so was the kitchen. But all three women let out surprised gasps when they noticed the mess in there. There was drying blood all over the floor, spread by footprints. There were also shards of porcelain. A stake. And ashes.

Blinking repeatedly, almost trying to make the scene in front of her disappear, Manon stepped further inside the kitchen, avoiding walking in the blood, and picked up the stake, careful not to touch the ashes. She looked at the cold object in her hand, as if by staring long enough she would make it tell the story it had witnessed. Make it say whose ashes were on the floor.

“What… what do you think happened?” Tara mumbled.

“They would never have fought each other,” Willow said strongly, though Manon could see that she was shaking too.

There were a few seconds of perfect quiet, until suddenly Manon’s senses alerted her that a vampire was close. Her eyes found Buffy, by the kitchen’s door, who was looking at the oblivious women in front of her with something that looked way too much like hunger for Manon’s comfort. Her golden gaze shifted, trailing over Manon, dismissing her like she was inoffensive, and then finding the mess on the floor.

“What happened?” she growled softly, startling the two Witches.

They both turned and took a step back, walking in the edge of the blood traces. If they answered the vampire’s question, Manon didn’t hear it. Because an awful realization had come to her. If Buffy was fine, then it could only mean that the ashes on the floor were Spike’s, and she was sure she was going to be sick.

* * * * *

The first thing Buffy saw as she came downstairs after her shower was the two Witches. They had their backs to her, and hadn’t noticed her presence, so it would have been very easy to kill them both. There was of course the Slayer just a step farther, and the kid had seen her, but she didn’t have a chance against Buffy, even with the stake already in her hand. Then Buffy found the source of the strong scent of blood, scattered on the floor. And mixed with the blood, ashes.

In a fraction of second, she was ready to attack and kill all three women, who had the sheer stupidity to come to her lair, kill her Mate and stay around for her to find out, when she noticed something else. The flame in the back of her mind was still there, bright and warm, unwavering. Spike had said she would know the very instant he died, because the flame would disappear. So. The ashes weren’t him.

“What happened?” she asked coldly, and the Witches finally became aware of her.

“We just came in,” Willow said, her voice slightly shaky. “We don’t know what…”

“Did you kill him?” Manon cut in suddenly.

Buffy crossed her arms as she observed the kid. She was gripping the stake so hard it was a surprise it wasn’t snapping in two pieces. Her whole body was trembling, and her eyes were cold, angry. And full of tears. Did she really believe she could take Buffy, let alone when she was obviously upset?

“I should kill you for even suggesting I would do such a thing,” Buffy said with a growl, baring her fangs.

“Then who?”

“No one. Spike is fine. Wherever he is.”

It was her Slayer sense giving her this little bit of information. If her Sire had been in the house, she would have been able to feel his presence.

“But the ashes…” Manon insisted.

“Not him,” Buffy replied curtly, then turned her attention to the Witches. “Do a spell. Locate him.”

Her demand seemed to pull them out of their shock. They looked at each other, then to Buffy again.

“How do you know he isn’t…” Willow started.

“I know, that’s all. Are you going to do that spell or will I have to resort to threats?”

A little angry light appeared in the Witch’s eyes, but she didn’t comment.

“I need a map,” she said levelly.

Nodding briefly, Buffy walked out of the kitchen to retrieve the maps they kept in the dining room. She noticed that both computers were on, and it only confirmed that Spike had been taken away. He wouldn’t have left these things on. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without telling her. Someone had taken him by surprise in the kitchen, more than one person judging by the numerous footprints in the blood. Someone had put ashes on the floor, trying to make her believe he was dead. Someone was going to pay. And die a very painful death.

Chapter 30 - Conversations With Dead People

The teleconference began and Riley unconsciously straightened into a more appropriate posture as his boss’ image appeared on his computer screen.

“Your report, agent Finn.”

“Yes sir. We have secured Hostile 17. The chip will be extracted very shortly so that we can determine why it stopped working. Then with your permission I will terminate him.”

If Riley hadn’t known better, he might have thought there was a smile trying to show on his superior’s face.

“Let’s not act too fast, Finn. We might still need him. I’d like to know more about this… thrall thing. He’s the first we catch that we are sure can do it, let’s not waste that chance. Anything else?”

“No sir. Everything went fine. The Slayer did not intrude on the removal, and we left clues for her to think the vampire is dead.”

And in a few days, Riley would, seemingly by accident, meet her, and with the thrall broken she would certainly be friendlier.

“What about the… spell?” the man on the screen added with a twinge of irritation.

It had been difficult to convince him that it was necessary to cast a spell to protect the location of the base. It had been hard to prove to someone who had never witnessed any magic that anyone could use an incantation and who knew what else to locate their prisoner. Riley knew about some of the things Willow was capable of, and he suspected she could do much more that he didn’t know about.

“The spell was done,” Riley said shortly. “The base is secure.”

“Good. Let me know as soon as you know what caused the chip to stop working.”

“Yes sir.”

* * * * *

Night had passed in a flash, and like any self-respecting vampire, Buffy was returning to her lair after hunting. She was dressed all in black, for black suited her mood. Black leather pants and a black shirt she had borrowed from her Sire. The silk felt nice on her skin, as light as his caresses. And something of his scent clung to the piece of fabric, making her feel safe despite his absence. It was for the same reason that she had slipped on his duster and not her own. Her hands, thrust deep in the pockets, played with a stake on one side and his lighter on the other.

She had been out of the house as soon as the sun had disappeared. The Witches had tried to stop her, but a quick flash of her fangs had changed their minds. She might have had more trouble from them if they had not believed that Spike’s commands still prevented her from hurting anyone, and she had given them no reason to think otherwise. She just should have killed them. The worthless humans had been unable to find Spike for her. If he was still alive, they said, as if they doubted her words, something was hiding his location. Another spell, probably. And they could do nothing about it. This had sent Buffy into a blinding rage. But she had not acted upon it. She had not allowed herself to.

Her Sire had asked her not to kill the Scoobies. She still thought it was a stupid request, and if he had been around she would either have tried to convince him or go past his order. But he wasn’t around. She had this weird feeling that, if she dismissed his wishes so easily, it was like taking advantage of his kidnapping. It was like being on the same side as his enemies. So until she found him again, she had decided to respect his last orders. But at the instant she found him, if whoever had taken him was human, she was going to feast.

She had walked around the town all night, killing a few vamps and demons after they proved unable to tell her anything about Spike. Potential meals, she had forced herself to ignore. All she was focused on were her senses, and particularly that little tingle that always told her when her Sire and Mate was close by. But nothing. She was aware she really shouldn’t have hoped so much, for her chances of accidentally coming close to wherever Spike was being kept were slim. For all she knew, he wasn’t even in Sunnydale anymore. And still, she hoped. Because if she allowed herself to wonder if she’d ever see him again, she knew despair would engulf her. She was too close from it already, pushing it back with sheer willpower.

The sky was starting to turn pink just as she reached Revello Drive. With sunrise being so close, she realized that for the first time in three years she and Spike hadn’t spent the night together, and her spirit sank a little more. Even when they argued, they always made up before morning, always ended up sleeping together. But the night was over, and still no trace of him. She felt like howling to the menacing sun, begging for it to grant her a few more hours to find him. But she wasn’t yet maddened enough to forget that staying outside a few more minutes would put a permanent end to her search.

As she opened the door and stepped inside the deserted house, she glanced back to the shadow that had followed her all night long. She had heard the girl argue briefly with the Witches as she left the house earlier, and had soon been aware that the kid was stalking her. She had pretended not too notice, too wrapped up in her search of Spike to even care what the baby Slayer’s intentions were. The night had been long and restless, but the kid had not wavered, staying at the same distance behind Buffy, following without a word, without trying to hide, but without trying to catch up either. Now that Buffy had made eye contact, Manon came closer, holding her jacket tightly closed around her. She must have been cold, early morning was always a bit fresh.

“He is really OK, right?” she asked quietly. “You didn’t just say that because you want him to be OK, did you?”

Buffy was tempted to snap at the girl, no one had the right to worry about her Mate except her. But she was surprised to hear her voice answer evenly.

“If he was dead, really dead, I would know it.”

Manon nodded imperceptibly, and turned around, starting to walk away. Buffy watched her for a second before calling out for her.

“Hey, kid.”

She was the Slayer. She was Buffy’s natural enemy and prey. But she was also someone who truly cared about Spike. She was just someone. And right now, Buffy would rather have been with anyone, even an enemy, than alone in the big empty house.

“Want some hot chocolate to warm yourself?” she proposed nonchalantly.

The kid tilted her head, as if trying to see if something was hidden behind the offer, and the vampire almost closed the door on her, already regretting her suggestion. But Manon was faster.

“Chocolate sounds good,” she agreed, coming back toward Buffy and following her inside.

“I’m pretty sure I can find some marshmallows too,” Buffy muttered as she led the way to the kitchen.

“Like he likes,” Manon whispered.

They both stopped by the kitchen’s entrance. The Witches had cleaned the blood mess off the floor, and it was easy to imagine that nothing had happened here.

“Yeah. Just like he likes.”

Buffy could feel her eyes filling with unwanted tears, and she stomped inside the room angrily, pulling milk out of the fridge with moves so jerky that she spilled some. Her back to the kid, she began warming the milk and melting chocolate in it, blinking repeatedly to get rid of the extra moisture in her eyes. Her demon was enraged at displaying such emotions in front of the Slayer, and yet she couldn’t stifle them. Even if her Sire had been refusing to let her kill, she hadn’t envisioned one single second living without him. Now that he was gone, maybe she should have felt free, but all she felt was cold, and incredibly alone.

“Buffy…”

The quiet voice brought her back to where she was, what she was doing, and she turned down the fire under her chocolate before it began to boil over.

“What?” she said harshly, glad that her pain didn’t pierce through her voice.

“You’ll find him, won’t you?”

Irritated, she turned to the kid, ready to give her a sound tongue-lashing. But she froze at the almost spilling tears she saw in Manon’s eyes. The same tears that she herself had almost shed. The same pain. The same fear.

“I will find him,” she claimed forcefully. “And whoever took him will die.”

She thought she saw the kid give an imperceptible nod.

* * * * *

Waking up was a surprise to Spike, especially since the last thing he remembered was Iowa standing over him with a stake. What wasn’t a big surprise however was that he was tied to a wall with chains, arms and legs spread too much for him to get any good leverage. No surprise either that he was in a cell. Still no surprise to find his captor in front of him, looking utterly composed.

“Finally coming back to us, Hostile 17?”

“I have a name, wanker,” he shot back.

“Monsters do not have names,” Riley replied coolly.

Ignoring him, Spike tried to get a grip on his chains, to see if he could pull himself free, but the angle was too wide.

“You know,” Riley said idly, “right now some people should be examining your brain very close. You should be glad you’re just tied to a wall instead.”

Spike snorted. “Just wait ‘til I’m free,” he said very low, “and I’ll show you exactly how glad I am”.

“Of course,” Riley continued, ignoring the threat, “it would be useless to search your brain for what is not there any more, wouldn’t it? Be glad also my surgeon took an x-ray of your head before opening.”

The vampire didn’t comment, and feigned not to pay attention to the discourse, though he was listening, and trying to understand what was going on. Why wasn’t he ashes already?

“Where is the chip, Spike?” Riley asked as he came closer to him. “Who took it out for you? How? When?”

A smirk was the only answer the human received.

“Fine. I’ll just beat the answers out of you. Not a problem. My pleasure, really.”

With that, the first blow was delivered to Spike’s jaw, sending his head to bang in the wall behind him.

“I pity you, y’know,” he said with a grin, spitting out some blood. “When Buffy finds us, she’s going to be really cranky, and you’ll be begging for me to let her kill you.”

Riley shook his head, and it was his turn to smile.

“She won’t find us. She won’t even look. She thinks you’re dead. And now that you’re not close to keep her under your thrall, she’ll have much more interesting things to do than think about you anyway.”

Eyeing the boy incredulously, Spike started laughing out loud. Buffy wouldn’t look for her Mate? Buffy would think he was dead? And what thrall? It would have been very satisfying to enlighten the idiot. But Spike couldn’t do that, couldn’t risk revealing how exactly Buffy would know he was still among the unliving. Soon, she would come to him. She was probably on her way already. And when she did come, Spike would be very glad to let her kill the wanker. He would even help her.

More blows came, and still the same questions, but Spike didn’t care. His Childe would come for him, and soon they would leave this cursed town forever. Soon.

 

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