Chapter Twenty-Four: Spill My Heart for You



Buffy woke up a little disoriented. Her head was pounding and her vision was slightly blurred. She felt like she had just woken up from a late night drinking bender. Sitting up slowly Buffy suddenly realized that she wasn’t in the right bed. She wasn’t even in the right room. Glancing around, she grew frantic.

‘Where the hell am I?’

The bed she had been sleeping in was covered with crisp white sheets and a floral top blanket, a far cry from the black satin nest she had come to accept as hers. The room itself was much smaller than Spike’s and the walls and furnishings were all painted white. Buffy felt like she was either in a bed and breakfast or a rehab facility. Neither were really where she wanted to be. Why wasn’t she in Spike’s room?

Buffy’s hazy memory started to clear, uninterrupted images beginning to assault her recuperating mind. Images of her arguing with Natasha, of them impatiently waiting for the fight to begin, and then of the bloodcurdling roars and screams filling the house when it finally did. After that, things became dim again, unclear and hard to decipher. Buffy could remember sitting on the bed, her stake clutched to her breast as she waited for the unknown to happen. And that it did. All she could recall was the sound of glass shattering, of light filling the large room as Natasha instinctively growled. She could see a few people, though their features, more specifically their faces, were indiscernible. She’d fought them off as best she could, knocked a few to the ground even, but they’d been too many. Then the smell of something sickly sweet had covered her nose and everything around her had gone black.

The delayed, yet intense fear struck at last as Buffy came to grips with the situation. She had been kidnapped…again! Her immediate reaction was that Damon was behind the whole thing but looking at where she had spent the night, Buffy quickly dismissed that possibility. No, someone else had taken her out of that house, but who had even known that she had been there beside deranged and bloodthirsty vampires?

Slipping out of bed, Buffy stared down at what she was wearing; a long, red plaid, flannel nightshirt. It sure as hell wasn’t hers, so who did it belong to? Walking quietly to the window, Buffy threw open the flower patterned curtains and saw that she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. It was the middle of the day, the sun was shining bright and people were walking the streets. People leaving their houses, driving their cars, walking their dogs. Buffy was actually staring at real, living, breathing, mostly honest members of society people! The sight of something as simple as a girl riding her bike in the sunshine left Buffy utterly flabbergasted. Though quite mundane, what she was seeing before her held one major implication.

She was free. Free from that house, free from the threat of Damon, free from constantly living in fear. Free from Spike.

The last thought made her eyes sting and something inside her hollow out. In fact the thought of never seeing Spike again made her feel empty, like a part of her was missing. What was she doing standing there? She had to find out what had happened to Spike.

Buffy needed to know he was alright, that he had kept his promise and hadn’t gotten himself killed. She needed to find him. She pushed away thoughts that he had met a dusty ending. Buffy didn’t want to even consider that possibility. Insurmountable remorse wouldn’t even begin to describe how she would feel if she started to think Spike was gone. Buffy refused to believe it. If she did, it would mean she would never see him again and it would mean he would never truly know how she felt. With hindsight, their last squabble seemed so pointless. She had been so wrapped up in technicalities about her freedom that now, when she was finally free, she wanted nothing more than to run back to the vampire lair to tell Spike how much she loved him. Buffy felt like such a fool. If Spike was dead, she would never forgive herself.

Marching determinedly to the closed bedroom door, Buffy didn’t care what lay on the other side. She was going to find Spike. Her resolve faltered somewhat abruptly when the door swung open, forcing her to halt. Going automatically on the defensive, Buffy eyed the man entering the room.

He appeared middle-aged and was fairly tall. Well, taller than she was anyway. He was casually attired, jeans and black knit sweater. The man also wore glasses, which he was wiping down as Buffy subjected him to her scrutinizing gaze. He was standing in direct sunlight, it shinning on him from the open window. He wasn’t a vampire, but even that wasn’t enough for Buffy to determine whether he was friend or foe.

Placing his specs back on his face, Giles sighed loudly. “I trust you had a good night’s sleep?” he asked, trying to be hospitable though there was a guarded element to the Watcher’s voice.

Buffy gave him her most contemptuous glare. “As good as any chemically incapacitated hostage can sleep.”

Giles was quick to correct her. “You are not a hostage. We rescued you.”

Buffy scoffed angrily. “Do you drug everyone you supposedly rescue? What was that stuff anyway?”

“Chloroform. And we only used it to ensure your safety,” the Watcher argued, becoming flustered by the unexpected hostility being sent his way.

“Oh ‘cuz that makes a whole lotta sense!” Buffy threw her arms up in frustration. “Whatever. Thanks for everything but I’ll be going now.”

Giles blocked Buffy’s path, his face stern with indignation. “Surely, you cannot be serious? Where would you go? It would be imprudent to venture out into town so late in the day. You wouldn’t reach the border before nightfall.”

“Who’s to say I’m leaving town?” she heatedly threw back.

Giles’s eyes widened; he was dumbfounded by her irrational attitude. “Are you mad? It would be suicide to go back out there on your own!”

“Look, I appreciate what you did for me but I need to find Spike. So if you’ll just move out of the way, I can go vampire searching,” Buffy adamantly replied.

The Watcher just stared at the small blonde girl, unable to wrap his mind around what she was telling him. Buffy wanted to go back. She wanted to not only search for the vampire that had imprisoned her for months but she wanted to reassure herself about his wellbeing. It was another mind altering revelation to the exhausted, battle weary Watcher. The love that Spike had displayed for his captive had not been unrequited. Buffy loved him back. And that notion in itself nearly knocked Giles on his ass.

“You care,” he bewilderedly mumbled, not so much as asking but reaffirming what he had just discovered.

“Well yeah,” she instantly answered. “Damon was on full out megalomaniac mode. You do know who Damon is, right?”

Giles nodded, but he wouldn’t say how he knew the treacherous vampire. “I do and last I heard he was facing off against Spike for claim over the clan.”

It was Buffy’s turn to nod. “Last I heard too.” Her voice grew scratchy as she tried to contain her emotions. “I don’t know who won. Spike could be dust as we speak,” she hoarsely whispered.

The Watcher needed to sit down. He had been sure that Spike’s declaration of love for Buffy had been based on the grounds of some sort of misconstrued infatuation. However, now that she was exhibiting similar feelings for the notorious vampire, Giles was beginning to doubt everything he had ever been taught to believe about the living dead. For a human to have feelings for a vampire was like having a lamb love the wolf that hunted it. It was against every rational thought he had. It could be considered a crime against nature, against the very laws of the universe. Yet it was happening and there was nothing Giles could really do to stop it. And who was he really to come between two lovers, even if their love defied all logic? If anything, the whole ordeal reignited his suppressed Watcher tendencies, making him want to investigate whatever was left to learn about vampires, especially that which concerned William the Bloody.

“I know you are anxious to see what has become of Spike but I would hope you have enough sense to wait until I can organize an expeditionary group to take you back to the lair,” Giles offered with genuine sympathy.

“Expeditionary group? What are you guys, like some kind of demon hunters?” Buffy not so subtly wondered.

“Well yes, I guess you could say that,” he stammered. He had never encountered someone with such a cavalier outlook when it came to the existence and hunting of vampires. When they had found Cordelia, it had taken him a week to bring her out of her self-encouraged denial. Even Willow and Xander had been skeptical when Giles had first told them about Slayers and his role in the fight against evil. Buffy, however, appeared to be unfazed by anything she encountered, when anyone else would deem it earth shattering. Though he was not used to it, Giles could understand Buffy’s nonchalant manner. After being the only human in a house full of vampires, everything else must seem extremely inconsequential.

“Oh my God! You guys are the streeters, aren’t you?” Buffy gasped out the question.

“The what?” Giles wasn’t sure if he should be offended or flattered. What in pray tell was a ‘streeter’?

“It’s what Spike called the humans that were always fighting with his vamps. It was you guys he was talking about, wasn’t it?” Buffy explained, finally seeing the connection as to why these strangers would know, or even care, about her.

“Yes, he was referring to us, though I would prefer if you no longer called us by that name,” he answered before letting out an appalled murmur. “Streeters indeed!”

Buffy smiled at the older man’s indignant reaction to the nickname. He was stuffy and British but you couldn’t help but warm up to him. “So you’ll help me find Spike?”

Giles hesitated before he responded. “We’ll see it so that you remain safe.”

Buffy shrugged. “Good enough for me,” she stated as Giles moved out of the way. “Now all I need is a change of clothes.”

“I think one of the girls can lend you something,” he said as he opened the door so that they could leave the room.

Neither one had expected to bump into someone standing out in the hallway. Buffy’s hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped. It couldn’t be. It just wasn’t possible. She was supposed to be dead.

“Cordy?”

The brunette could only nod as tears streamed down her face. Reacting instinctively, Cordelia pulled her shock rattled best friend into a hug. Once Buffy felt Cordy’s arms around her, once she finally felt some kind of physical confirmation that her friend was really alive, the floodgates burst open. Her knees buckled as she joined Cordy in her crying, unable to hold back any longer the grief she had never been able to fully let go. Thoughts of Spike were pushed aside as Buffy poured herself out, at last reunited with the traveling companion she had been separated from so many months ago.





********


Buffy was gone.

It was the only thing he could think of as he stared numbly at the shambled room, standing amongst the debris from the unanticipated attack. He was expecting Buffy to suddenly appear from behind the overturned bed or from hiding all along in the bathroom. But he knew better. He couldn’t sense her; he couldn’t pick up on her heartbeat. There was nothing alive in the bedroom.

The reality of everything was slowly settling in. He had acknowledged the fact that he had lost his clan, that Damon had in some way won. Spike recognized that the power he had once exacted over Sunnydale had slipped through his fingers. He got all of that, and accepted it without feeling so much as a twinge of regret. Losing Buffy, however, was the more than he could handle. She was his world and it was now crashing down all around him.

Distraught, Spike fought back the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. The shock subsided, giving way to panic as his mind flitted over every possible worst case scenario. The first thing that crossed his mind was whether or not Damon had taken Buffy. Spike stared out from the dark shadows of the room, his cold eyes landing on the expanse of sunlit floor. No, it couldn’t have been Damon’s vamps. Buffy’s scent was still too strong; she had to have been taken an only hour ago. And there was no way that any right minded vampire, besides Spike apparently, would subject himself to sunlight and still be undead enough to pull off a kidnapping. No, he couldn’t place the blame on Damon, no matter how much he wanted to.

A disheartened Spike heard a moan from the other side of the room. He turned to see Natasha cradled in Vincent’s arms. Spike hadn’t given the vampiress much thought since he had discovered Buffy was missing. Though now, upon seeing the condition she was in, he wished he had remained in his ignorant stupor.

Natasha was entirely burnt on one half of her body. The skin on her left side was a deep crimson, bubbling and chapped from the unpredicted exposure to the sun. She also had a busted lip and her face was covered in a purpled bruise. It was clear that she had been knocked out and that somehow the unforgiving sunlight had fallen upon her combustible skin, but in what order had those events occurred Spike was unsure.

Spike walked toward the two vampires, dashing through the sunlight, unbeknownst to the semi-conscious Natasha and the far too preoccupied Vincent. The oldest vampire of the three had ripped through his wrist with his own fangs and was at the moment feeding the fallen vampiress with his blood. He wasn’t her Sire so his blood was not very potent but at the moment any blood was better than no blood. Or so he hoped.

Spike watched quietly as Natasha sucked on the wound while Vincent stroked her head gently. The tenderness between them reminded the peroxide vamp so much of the times he had fed from Buffy. He hated himself for missing the taste of her blood gushing into his mouth and he hated himself even more for the involuntary reaction his body was having to the memory. Spike felt sick as his jeans tightened from remembering how Buffy’s warm, supple body felt beneath him as he brought her off just from drinking from her neck. How could he think about such a thing at a moment like this? Not only was there a possibility that he’d never see Buffy again but if he did find her, what chance was there that she would even speak to him, let alone allow him to snack off of her?

Guilt finally cemented in Spike’s heart. He should have let her go. He should’ve trusted Buffy, believed in her when she had said she wouldn’t leave but that she had only wanted his trust. Spike covered his face with his hands. Why had he been such a git? So what if she hadn’t said ‘I love you, too.’ Didn’t mean Buffy didn’t care. Didn’t mean he loved her any less. Spike cursed his stubborn pride.

Who was he kidding? Pride was just a smokescreen for his fear. The overwhelming fear that Buffy would never love him, that everything they’d shared had been nothing but a horrible, heartbreaking lie. It was a fear that had presented itself the very second Buffy had requested her freedom, though he hadn’t realized it until now. If he had at least freed her, even if only in the vocal sense, then their last words to each other would’ve held more meaning than the ambiguous sendoff she had given him. He would’ve at least known she didn’t hate him even if their goodbyes would’ve still been bittersweet. Spike would’ve been able to live with himself, which was more than he could say at the moment.

“Spike?” a somber voice called to him.

The defeated vampire turned to look down once again upon his two friends. Vincent was staring back up at him, waiting for instructions from his leader as he held Natasha in his arms. She was still unconscious. Spike inwardly scoffed. He wasn’t their leader anymore; he had no right to tell the older vamp what to do. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t, though.

“’S not safe for the two of you ‘ere anymore. Take whatever vamps you got left and get the hell out of town,” Spike muttered, his gaze growing blank.

“You can’t be serious,” Vincent replied in disbelief. “Damon…”

“Is my problem,” Spike interrupted. “Just do this one last thing for me, Vince. Pick up the pieces and get out of Sunnydale. Find a nice cozy tomb with a view if you don’t wanna do the clan thing anymore. Doesn’t matter really what you do, just leave. Let it be my last order as your leader.”

“I can’t believe you’re simply giving up,” Vincent said, a rising anger evident in his voice.

“Who says I’ve given up?” Spike asked incredulously.

“You did. Just a second ago,” the other vampire stated, becoming concerned that Spike had completely lost his marbles.

“No, I never did,” Spike quickly corrected. “Yeah, I’ve given up on the clan. I’ll give you that. Was a lost cause since before the fight had even started. But Damon’s fate is still fair game and what better way to get back at the pillock than by making him think he’s won.”

“If it’s what you want…” Vincent surrendered, his eyes reverting back to Natasha’s marred face.

“It is,” Spike affirmed. “You’ve been the best chum a man could’ve ever wished for, Vince, but it’s over.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” the crouching vampire remarked with a shrug. Slipping a gentle hand under Natasha’s knees and around her back, Vincent lifted her in his arms as he stood up. “Guess it was a lil’ unrealistic, eh? Askin’ vamps for loyalty and trust when we’re all so…well, so evil.”

“Was nothin’ but a dream, mate,” Spike added sadly.

“Ah, but a good dream nonetheless, even if we were deluding ourselves,” Vincent countered reflectively.

“Better get goin’. Want to make a good head start before sunset,” Spike mentioned as he absentmindedly walked out of the room.

“Can’t use the sewers, Spike. Damon knows all the trails. He’s bound to have his vamps patrolling them,” Vincent stated as he followed Spike with Natasha still in his arms. His curiosity intensified as they made their way downstairs, it peaking when they went all the way down into the basement. He watched silently as Spike effortlessly smashed through piles of old broken furniture, flinging the cobweb covered debris out of his way. Finally pushing through the junk, the younger vampire reached the far stone wall, which was partly veiled by a bulky wooden bookcase. With one tug, the case was knocked to the floor, revealing a once hidden exit way in the stone foundation. Vincent cocked his head to the side as he analyzed the enormous hole in the wall. Why had he never known about it?

“Leads to a system of tunnels. They don’t connect to the sewers and Damon doesn’t know bugger all ‘bout ‘em. Safe way out, mate,” Spike explained, filling in the blanks for his perplexed friend.

“Spike, why is it I’ve never seen this before?” Vincent wondered as he stared out into the blackness beyond the secret doorway.

“I was the only one who knew it was there,” Spike casually informed. “‘S why I picked the house in the first place. The whole clan thing was a little too new and I wasn’t sure who I could trust. Needed an escape route if you guys ever decided to turn against me. Almost forgot ‘bout the bloody hole ‘til just a few minutes ago.”

Vincent warily stepped closer to the opening, his face shifting into its vampire visage so that he could navigate through the thick darkness that clouded the unfamiliar passageway. Holding Natasha firmly to his chest, he glimpsed back at Spike. “Farewell, William.”

“Good luck, Vince,” Spike forlornly muttered.

“Likewise,” Vincent encouragingly replied. “Oh and when you do see Damon again, give ‘im hell for me, would you Spike? Make sure he suffers for what he did to you,” the older vampire gravely requested, his eyes shining with the revenge he would never be capable of exacting.

“No worries, Vince. I’ll see to it that the pillock gets what’s comin’ to him,” Spike reassured, his own lips tugging into a smile.

With the womanly bundle in his arms, Vincent took a step into the shadowy exit but not without glancing back one last time at Spike. “Hope you find her, William.” It was all he said before turning back into the darkness.

Spike observed Vincent disappear into the blackness. The two vampires he had trusted unconditionally were walking out his life, probably indefinitely. Spike headed back upstairs, only stopping when he reentered Buffy’s room. With one glimpse around the decimated empty room, he crumpled to the floor, dropping his face to his hands. In all his time as a vampire, Spike had never been without companionship, whether with Dru or with the clan he had only recently lost he had never been on his own, never truly been alone. At that very moment, Spike was the loneliest he had ever been. The tears he had been holding back since he had discovered Buffy’s disappearance were finally cascading down his sharp cheeks. Whimpers transformed into sobs, his body rocking from the intensity of his sorrow. He was so lost and he hated himself for being so weak.

As Spike mourned for all that he had lost, he longed to bury his face in golden hair and to feel the reassuring embrace of one girl. It was Buffy who he missed, for whom he was weeping like a ponce. Everything else was just icing on the shit cake that was his immortal existence.



TBC

 

Chapter Twenty-Five: Pleasant Surprises

Spike remained crumpled on the cold tile floor; his back slumped up against the crumbling wall. Single tears silently trickled down his face as his unfocused eyes stared out into oblivion. He sat directly in the sunlight that poured in from the room’s only window, yet it couldn’t even bring him to squint. Spike’s sudden imperviousness to the sun no longer left him in awe. Instead, he kept an apathetic vigil, but as to what it was exactly that he was watching he was yet to figure out. He didn’t want to move because moving required thought and thinking always brought him back to Buffy. So he stayed completely still. That way it wouldn’t hurt as much.

Spike knew he was being foolish. Damon would be back soon. He knew that after the dark vampire finished licking his wounds, he would without a doubt return for round two and that was something Spike sure as hell didn’t want to be around for. He sneered slightly. Wouldn’t Damon love to find him like this? A total nancy boy, crying on the floor like some poofter. Spike would rather stake himself than give that Judas with fangs that kind of bleeding satisfaction.

Furiously wiping away his last frustrated tears, Spike jumped to his feet. Marching toward the broken window, he stopped abruptly when something caught beneath his boot. His leather-bound journal. Bending over, he picked up the worn book. What was it doing out here? Glancing at the book shelf where he kept his few truly personal possessions, Spike wondered if Buffy had discovered his secret hiding place. He made his way over to the small bookshelf and threw all the books on it to the floor. Pulling out the back of the bottom shelf, Spike found all the photos, letters and drawings he had left there. The only thing that was missing was the journal, which was in his hands. He noticed that his belongings weren’t in the order he had left them in. Spike couldn’t stop himself from smiling. That was his Buffy. Too curious for her own damn good.

Pulling out his things from their safe place, Spike stuffed them into his duster pocket. If he was leaving the house for good, he didn’t want to leave anything behind. Skimming over the dog-eared diary, Spike gradually shoved it in his pocket along with the others. There wasn’t any time to concern himself with what Buffy could have possibly learned about his meekly former self. He could only speculate as to how she had reacted when she had first learned about William. Spike prayed she had found it endearing and that it had not somehow attributed to her only recent bit of rejection.

Spike headed back on his path to the window when something else sidetracked him. In the corner of his eye, sprawled atop the broken bed was his old red shirt, the one Buffy had worn during that brief period of time when all had been right between them. Taking it in his hands, Spike brought the silky fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply the lingering scents of her body and of their love making. His throat tightened upon remembering what they had shared and what he had most likely lost.

Buffy had been so open, if not with her words then with the way she had expressed her feelings. Looking back, Spike could see it now. Simply asking him to make love to her should’ve been enough proof of how she felt.

Spike’s thumb unconsciously stroked the collar of the crimson material as he mentally berated himself for his insecurity. During that short reprieve he had never felt more loved than when he had been in Buffy’s arms. The torture Spike had endured, Damon’s looming threat, his own deteriorating clan had all completely disappeared from his mind in those blissful moments. When he was with Buffy it felt as though the world around them vanished and that he was just a man, locked in the embrace of the woman he loved. Spike choked as he fought back another onslaught of tears. Buffy made him forget he was a monster; she made him feel like a man.

Spike’s fist tightened around the battle worn shirt. Now, because of his own downright stupidity, he might never have that again. Buffy could be lost to him forever and all that he would have left were a few drawings and the shirt he held in his hands.

Bringing the discarded garment back to his nose for one last heart wrenching smell, Spike stopped before the red shirt was in mid-lift. Something else besides essence of Buffy had tickled his overly sensitive nostrils. Dropping the shirt to the floor, Spike concentrated on the foreign scent. He couldn’t put his finger on it but it was familiar. Why hadn’t he noticed before?

The answer was obvious. He’d been too devastated and the only thing his guilty conscience had allowed his mind to register was Buffy’s scent. The sparse indoor fires and the dust and blood all over the house also did little to help in pinpointing the alien smell.

It wasn’t one scent but the combination of many. Mostly human. Mostly. Except for one, very minute trace of demon.

Spike smirked as he strutted to the large, shattered window. He jumped through it, landing two floors below on the bright sunlit street. If his hunch was right, he knew who had taken Buffy and where she was now being kept. A part of him was overjoyed that it wasn’t Damon but the demon inside of him was screaming to take back what was his. He just wasn’t sure if Buffy was his to take anymore.




********


Buffy mindlessly stared out the living room window as the early afternoon sun filled the room with its bright light. She was still in a bit of shock, what with her sudden freedom and discovering Cordelia had been alive all this time. To be honest, Buffy was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She still felt the urge to go find Spike but her brain was too overloaded at the moment to put anything into action. For now she remained unmoving, waiting for reality to sink in.

Buffy’s hand was clasped in Cordy’s as she sat beside her at the room’s only table, surrounded by many unfamiliar faces. The man she had met upstairs she learned was named Rupert Giles, a retired Watcher.

The three other people in the room were introducing themselves, though they already seemed to know who she was.

The shy redhead sitting across from her was named Willow. Buffy had discovered that the unexpected pjs she had woken up in belonged to the kindhearted, but at times fashionably-challenged girl. Despite her lacking skills in style, Buffy gave Willow a warm and thankful smile, which was enthusiastically returned.

Seated next to Willow was Oz, who by the looks of it was her boyfriend. Not that he was the lovey-dovey, in your face with the PDA kind of guy. Actually, it was quite the opposite. Oz’s impassive face couldn’t mask his feelings for the girl beside him. Though usually expressionless, the young man had body language that simply screamed ‘protector of Willow’. Buffy had seen it before. Spike used to act that way around her all the time. Even with the simplest gesture of resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, Buffy knew the guy cared. Buffy glanced at his hair. Oz was redhead like Willow. Buffy thought that was adorable.

Sitting at the end of the table across from Giles was Xander, a cute guy with chocolate brown eyes who appeared to be the joker of the bunch. Buffy couldn’t help but notice the fleeting glances he was sending Cordelia’s way. She also noticed how Cordy would blush ever so slightly and avert her eyes from his gaze. Buffy smirked knowingly. It seemed as though a few things had happened to her best friend in the months they had been separated. She made a mental note to ask Cordy about it later.

Still gazing out at nothing, Buffy missed part of the conversation that was transpiring all around her. It wasn’t until Cordelia lightly elbowed her, did she snap out of her trance.

“Huh?” she turned to look at her best friend, hazel eyes wide with confusion.

“I was just telling them how we met freshman year and about the road trip,” Cordy reiterated, a little thrown by Buffy’s lack of attentiveness.

Buffy scoffed sadly. “We would’ve probably been in Vegas by now.”

Cordelia nodded, turning in her chair to look Buffy in the eyes. “I should’ve listened to you when you were having doubts about Sunnydale. If I hadn’t been so one tracked mind about having a good time…if we had just left town then…then maybe we would’ve never had to live through this nightmare,” she lamented as a single tear streamed down her face.

Buffy could feel her own tears about to give way. “It isn’t your fault, Cordy. How were any of us supposed to know what was gonna happen,” she reassured. “And it’s okay now. I’m here with you and you’re alive. For all these months, I thought you were dead.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” Cordy replied as she squeezed Buffy’s hand.

Buffy reached over and hugged her best friend. “Hey, I’m all with the living here,” she good-humoredly stated. “Everything’s gonna be alright, Cordy. We survived.”

“It’s a miracle that you did,” Willow broke in. “I mean, you’re both so lucky to have gotten the heck out of the Bronze that night with your lives.”

The girls nodded in agreement before Oz added his own two cents. “Not to mention the fact that Buffy survived all those months while being held captive at Spike’s lair. That’s beyond miracle. I might even wager it’d be deemed a phenomenon,” he commented in his typically stoic manner.

Buffy nodded as her hand unconsciously crept up to the scars on her neck. Brushing the wound lightly, she suddenly wished she could’ve been wearing a turtleneck instead of the black cotton tee she was sporting that did nothing to shield her from curious gazes. It wasn’t that Buffy was ashamed but the knowledge that she had been a willing participant when Spike had bitten her might be a little too unsettling for the group at the table. They might think that her need to find the vampire that had held her prisoner for months was some kind of post-traumatic insanity. Buffy couldn’t risk them finding out and trying to stop her. The ex-Watcher had promised her that they would help her but how was she supposed to know whether or not she could trust them. She especially did not want to tell Cordelia. The brunette might be her best friend but open minded she was not. No. Buffy was going to have to do this alone. She just had to find the opportunity to slip away.

“How did you survive Buffy? Why didn’t they kill you?” Cordelia wondered. It never made sense to her. What the heck would a vampire keep a human around for?

Buffy tried desperately not to blush as she thought of the initial reason as to why Spike had enslaved her. What was she supposed to tell them? What would be believable? She couldn’t tell them the truth. Buffy couldn’t stand to see the disgusted and pitying looks they would no doubt be giving her if they found out. She wasn’t a victim. Survivor most definitely, but never a victim.

As Buffy struggled to enlighten everyone as to what she had endured in the past couple pf months, Xander and Willow exchanged uncomfortable looks. They knew exactly why Spike had held onto her. They weren’t a hundred percent sure about the sex aspect of the relationship but they were pretty certain it had something to do with Spike being in love with Buffy. Xander had chalked the whole ‘vampire in love’ thing up to Spike being one pretty sick and twisted monster who deluded himself in thinking that the girl he kept chained up in his room was actually in love with him. It was the only way the simple minded brunette could live with what he had heard and seen that night he and Willow had played basement night watchmen.

Any other possible explanation was just too much for him to come to grips with. Vampires were supposed to be bad and humans were supposed to be good. As simple as that. To Xander, it was completely black and white. Vamps weren’t supposed to fall in love with their food. His survival instincts had taught him from the beginning that there wasn’t any room for the varying shades of grey when it came to morality. If you second guessed what you were doing, who you were fighting, then you were dead. So Spike was evil, regardless of his uncharacteristic declarations of love. Once a soulless, evil bloodsucking fiend, always a soulless, evil bloodsucking fiend.

Willow on the other hand had a difference of opinion. While Xander lived in his own world of denial and closed-mindedness, the Wicca couldn’t ignore what she had seen that night. There had been something about the way Spike had whimpered over Buffy in his sleep. It had been so sincere, so distraught, just too raw for it not to have been love. Willow knew with every fiber of her being that the vampire had fallen in love with Buffy and that had probably been the reason why he had held onto the blonde girl for so long. The question now was whether or not Buffy felt the same for Spike. If she did, Willow wouldn’t judge her for it. The relationship would be extremely unconventional, but this was Sunnydale after all, where the unusual was a way of life. Discretely eying the girl across from her, Willow couldn’t decipher for herself what the emotions playing across Buffy’s face meant. Sighing, the redhead simply waited along with the rest of them for Buffy’s response.

“I..I..” Buffy began to reply, clearly stumbling over what to say. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now if that’s okay with you,” she covered as her clutched at the front of her t-shirt, trying to hide the bites Spike had adorned her neck with.

Cordelia sympathetically nodded. “Of course it’s okay. You don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to.”

The former cheerleader could only imagine what horrors her best friend must have survived during her stay at Vampire Central. She didn’t want to pressure Buffy into telling her what had happened. She still looked pretty upset over the whole ordeal. The last thing Cordy wanted was to make Buffy feel even more uneasy, especially in front of a group of people she considered to be strangers. She patted her best friend’s hand. Cordelia would be there for her no matter what. She knew Buffy would’ve done the same for her. It’s what best friends do.

“Thanks,” Buffy sighed in relief as she stared around the table. Everyone else seemed pretty content with her answer. They were probably thinking the worst, probably jumping to conclusions about torture, rape and her being used as a blood cow. Why else wouldn’t she want to talk about what she had been through?

It wasn’t until her eyes met with the Englishman’s did she realize that not everyone was clueless as to why she did not wish to speak on the issue of her capture. The Watcher knew she loved Spike.

‘Of course he does!’ Buffy inwardly berated herself. How couldn’t he when she had ranted like a mad women the second she had met him, demanding that she be let go so that she could find Spike.

Speaking of finding Spike, Buffy needed to snap out of it and get to it. The shock of Cordelia being alive had brought her to the table but what was keeping her there? It wasn’t the riveting conversationalists sitting all around, that was for sure! Then why was she stalling? Why was she dodging questions and pushing off actually taking Mr. Giles up on his offer about helping her search for Spike? As much as she hated to admit it, she exactly knew why. Buffy was afraid of what she might eventually find.

If she were to discover that Spike had perished during the fight against Damon, then she didn’t know what she’d do. The possibility was just too devastating, leaving her with fearful indecision. The longer she waited, the harder it was to move. Her heart was beating rapidly and her stomach churned painfully at the thought that Spike was gone forever, that there was an actual chance she might never see him again. The room suddenly seemed to be getting small, like the walls were creeping slowly toward her. Her lungs were finding it difficult to draw in precious oxygen. For the first time in a long time Buffy felt as though she could possibly give into a panic attack.

‘Snap out of it!’ the stronger part of her ordered. ‘Get a grip. You need to know what happened to him. He could be out there somewhere thinking you ran away or that you’re dead.” The weaker aspect of her psyche quickly added, ‘Yeah, if he isn’t dead himself.’

Taking in one deep, long breath, Buffy turned back to look at the Watcher. “Mr. Giles…”

Holding up his hand, the older man interrupted her. “Please, simply Giles is adequate,” he informed with a smile. “It’s how everyone around here refers to me.”

“Plus taking off the ‘Mr.’ makes Giles feel like he’s not the old, teacher/mentor, Watcher guy that he really is when he’s around all of us younggins,” Xander quipped.

“Why thank you ever so much for that little bit of vital insight Xander,” Giles sarcastically stated, aggravated by the young man’s distorted sense of humor. “And I am not old,” he finished with a mutter.

“Uh…you were saying Buffy?” Oz chimed in, trying to get the group back on track.

“Yes Buffy, I must apologize for the interruption. Please, continue with what you were about to say,” Giles urged.

Buffy sighed loudly as she bowed her head, avoiding all the intense stares sent in her direction. “Well…like I’d told you upstairs Giles, I think…I think I need to go back,” she told them as she glimpsed up to momentarily see their reactions. Everyone appeared mostly perplexed by what she was trying to say. “There are some loose ends that I never got the chance to tie up before you guys broke me out of there.”

“Is this about payback Buffy? Because as crazy as you sound right now, that’s the only thing that would make any sense,” Cordelia asked, staring at her friend as though she had grown another head.

“No Cordy. This isn’t about getting back at anyone,” Buffy remarked with conviction. “Though I wouldn’t mind seeing Damon hung, drawn and quartered.”

“Then why in the hell would you wanna go back to that haunted house?” the flustered brunette inquired.

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand,” Buffy stated, wishing Cordy would just drop it. The last thing she wanted at that moment was anymore dissuasion. She needed to get to Spike, with or without anyone’s help.

“Then why don’t you at least try to explain it and we’ll see whether or not I understand?” Cordelia irately suggested, bringing forth her inner bitch. She didn’t like it when people kept things from her, especially when said people included her best friend. Traumatic experience aside, Buffy couldn’t simply declare that she wanted to go back to Spike’s lair without giving a good, and more importantly, sane reason as to why.

“It has to do with Spike,” Buffy hesitantly began to elaborate.

Everyone tensed suddenly when she mentioned the name. Buffy knew Spike’s name was synonymous with pain and death to the people sitting before her. She could understand why bringing him up would make everyone jittery.

“I need to find him. I need to know what happened. Giles said you guys would help but if you don’t want to, I understand,” Buffy continued on, still not telling them what her exact plans were regarding the infamous vampire.

“Spike was…I mean…Spike is very important t—” Buffy started to clarify, stopping abruptly as she gazed around the room.

Everyone still seemed pretty on edge but it was beyond mere name association wiggins. They were all wide eyed, trembling with the fear that was clearly etched across their faces. Their gazes were not on her but past her, to something that was standing behind her.

Buffy turned to her side to look at Cordelia. The petrified girl was pointing a shaky hand to something in the hallway behind Buffy, her mouth open as she tried to vocalize some sort of distress call.

Without so much as a second thought, Buffy spun around in her seat. What she saw almost made her cry, scream and faint all at the same time.

“Hello luv.”
 

Chapter Twenty-Six: If I Lose You, My Heart Will Be Broken

Crossbows were instantly drawn on the creature standing before Buffy as the rest of the room’s occupants swiftly maneuvered to the far side of the table, putting the obstacle between them and the vampire. Every single bow was loaded with a deadly arrow, ready to pierce the heart. And those without the luck of having the projectile weapon within their possession had instead pulled out stakes, crosses and even small glass vials of holy water. Anything that would protect them from the peroxide intruder.

The vampire in their midst however did not even flinch. Hell he wasn’t even paying them the least bit of attention. His gaze was locked on the blonde girl, who for some reason showed no sign of fear. Instead, she returned his intense stare, her hazel eyes shimmering with oncoming tears. It was as though they were trapped in each other’s eyes, lost to the world around them as a flurry of emotions tugged at their hearts.

A single mantra of ‘go to Buffy’ played over and over again in Spike’s mind. Without any consideration for the danger he was in, the vampire took a step toward his love, still hypnotized simply by the site of her.

It was the harsh sound of Oz’s defensive, growl-like warning that broke them from their trance. “Get back.”

Spike finally glanced around. His cerulean eyes widened for a split second, but almost as soon as the trace of fear crossed his face, it quickly disappeared behind a mask of indifference.

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Spike smirked at the group of humans. “Come now. Is this any way to treat a guest? ‘Specially one who returns even after the piss poor treatment he got during his first visit.”

Buffy’s brow crinkled with confusion. Turning to Giles she asked, “What’s he talking about?”

The Watcher didn’t remove his crossbow from its mark, his eyes never leaving the intended target that was the vampire’s chest. Grudgingly, though still very much focused, Giles answered her. “Spike had spent some time here not too long ago.”

Spike scoffed resentfully. “Old age startin’ to creep up on ya, mate? Forgettin’ a few minor details, aren’t we Rupes?” he spitefully badgered. “Like how you went into cahoots with Damon or how you couldn’t beat the livin’ stuff outta yours truly without havin’ to resort to mystical castration,” Spike unveiled, his tone cold and unforgiving.

Giles eyes narrowed. “We thought Buffy was in danger. We thought you were hiding her. At the time, we had no other options,” he explained through gritted teeth.

“Oh really?” Spike quickly replied, totally unconvinced. “Certain it wasn’t a lil’ vengeance call on your part, Watcher? Had to get your jollies out with a good ole round of kick the Spike?” He paused so that the humans around him could fully absorb the newly revealed information. “Stop deluding yourself, Rupert. I might be an evil vampire but at least I don’t hide behind some kind of perverse moral superiority whenever I got an agenda.”

“Giles, what is he talking about?” Xander asked nervously as he continued to aim his own crossbow at Spike.

The Watcher didn’t respond. It wasn’t the time for this particular conversation. Right now, Giles had to act as their leader and push away the guilt he felt for what he had done. Even if Giles wanted to rehash what he had almost allowed himself to turn into; how he had almost become the thing he hated most in the world; how he had allowed his hatred to consume him to the point that he had jeopardized Buffy’s life; he couldn’t. His comrades would learn soon enough but not if they were dead. Despite his misgivings about Spike’s evilness, the Watcher wouldn’t put it past the vampire to exact a bit if his own revenge. He couldn’t take the chance that Spike wasn’t deeply upset over the whole torture fiasco and that he wouldn’t just kill them all so that he could run off with Buffy. The vampire might have some redeemable qualities, but he was still a vampire. A very brassed off vampire to boot.

“Leave Spike,” Giles ordered, his grip tightening around the crossbow in his hands.

Spike smirked again. “Don’t think so, Watcher. Gonna need a bit more persuasion than a stern talkin’ to while you shake that medieval stick slinger at me.”

Giles ignored the jibe and repeated his warning. “Leave or I’ll shoot you. Medieval stick slinger or not, it can still send an arrow through your chest. And believe me, this time I won’t miss your heart.”

Buffy, who had been in a state of pure mental lockdown up until now, suddenly crashed down to reality. Memories of gaping holes in Spike’s chest flooded her mind. The connections were all there; the newly discovered information about Spike’s association with Giles, the long and frightening days he had been missing, and the wounds he had brought back with him. Buffy’s shocked gaze landed on the Watcher, who at the moment was oblivious to her recent epiphany. Giles and the rest of them, including Cordy, were the reason why Spike had been beaten beyond recognition. They were the reason Damon had taken reign over the clan. They were the reason Spike hadn’t been there to protect her when Damon had attacked her. Worst of all, they had hurt Spike. And with that knowledge something primal, almost animalistic, awoke within Buffy.

Standing up from her seat, Buffy stood in front of Spike, using her body to block him from the arrow that would in no doubt kill him.

Spike stared in awe as he watched Buffy use herself as a human shield to protect him from probable death. It was her first real reaction to his sudden re-appearance and it spoke volumes. She was giving him a crumb, a smidgen of hope that there was something left between them. Buffy didn’t hate him and that was something noteworthy enough to point out.

Though inwardly jumping for joy, the vampire remained completely still, cautiously aware of the girl standing before him. Spike wasn’t about to rule out the possibility that Buffy’s selfless gesture was actually a ploy to bring down his defenses just enough so that she could deliver the killing blow herself. Spike prayed it wasn’t the case, though he knew he deserved it. Even if she was about to plunge a stake into his chest, he’d still love her. Until his ashes hit the floor, Spike would keep on loving Buffy.

“Buffy, are you crazy!?! What are you doing!?!” Cordelia anxiously yelled from the other side of the table, unconsciously lowering the tightly clutched cross in her hand.

“You can’t kill Spike,” Buffy declared ardently, her adamant words not solely directed to Cordelia but to every single person in the room.

“Why the hell not!?!” Cordy snapped, her face flush with frustration. “Why the hell are you protecting that monster?!” she nearly screamed as she angrily pointed to Spike.

Buffy turned her head around to glimpse at Spike. He was staring at her, cobalt eyes wide and glittering, his emotions playing across his face. She could see he was apprehensive, that he was scared of what she was about to say. Buffy, however, could also see that behind the fear was the love he felt for her. It was reassurance enough. She knew what she had to do.

‘Moment of truth,’ Buffy thought nervously as she turned to face the group of demon hunters once again. ‘There’s no turning back now.’

“Because I love him.”

The room grew quiet. Had they heard right? Had Buffy just told them that she loved Spike? The vampire himself looked a bit stupefied, as though it was taking some time for his brain to wrap around what exactly it was that was happening. Though a few people in the room had an idea, an inkling as to what the relationship between the Master vampire and his former prisoner entailed, no one had ever expected this pretty abrupt and very public declaration. Especially not Cordy.

Xander stood there, utterly gobsmacked, with his mouth hanging wide open. It was during that brief moment of distracted bewilderment that his finger accidentally brushed the trigger of the crossbow he was holding. And it was because of this little error that an arrow shot through the air, flying directly at Buffy. Though it all happened too fast for anyone to react, gasps reverberated through the silence when the lethal projectile was stopped. Yet, it wasn’t Spike’s vampire quick reflexes that had saved Buffy. It was her own hand that had caught the arrow right before it pierced her chest. Snapping the arrow in half as though it were a twig, she dropped the pieces of wood to the floor.

Turning once again to face a flabbergasted Spike, Buffy quizzically pouted. “Huh, I caught it.”

As soon as the words fell from her mouth, Buffy’s face became expressionless. Her eyes suddenly rolled to the back of her head as she started to fall. Spike instantly reached out and caught her before she hit the ground. Carefully cradling Buffy in his arms, he tried to wake her, calling out her name and gently stroking her face. Spike was near panic and he instinctively wanted to shake her but he stopped himself. He didn’t know what she’d been through in the past few days or what injuries she might have sustained. Spike’s rage elevated as he pictured the Watcher clobbering Buffy over the head, knocking her out so that it’d be easier to take her from the lair. If this fainting spell was some kind of late symptom of head trauma, so help him, Spike would without a doubt eviscerate Giles before tearing him limb from limb. The concern for Buffy’s unexpected aptitude for arrow catching was quickly pushed aside as the vampire focused on trying to revive his girl.

Giles rushed to Buffy’s side, forgetting the danger he was putting himself in simply by being within arms reach of Spike. The Watcher followed the vampire as he laid her down on the tabletop. Spike stripped off his duster, bunching it up so that it could be used to cradle Buffy’s head. The vampire ignored the looks he was getting from the anxious group of humans. They tensely watched as Spike stroked the unconscious girl’s blonde head.

A few moments of strained silence passed before Spike asked, “What have you done to her?” His voice was steady but unquestionably lethal as his gaze remained fixed on Buffy’s deceptively peaceful face.

“N-nothing,” Willow uneasily replied, immediately put on the defensive.

Spike glimpsed up at the group of humans. “Doesn’t bloody well look like nothing, now does it?”

It was Xander this time who stepped up to the plate. “How do we know this isn’t your fault?” he heatedly proposed. “Maybe all your brainwashing finally got to her. Must have been pretty intense stuff to get her to believe she actually loves you.”

Spike’s ice blue eyes narrowed as they focused on the boy. “Buffy’s words were her own,” the vampire defended. How dare the little pissant demean what could possibly be the most meaningful and joyful moment of his entire existence. “And I would never hurt her, which is more than we can say ‘bout you, whelp. ‘Least I didn’t almost shoot her with a crossbow,” Spike spitefully remarked before his lip curved into a smirk. “Ya know for a demon hunter, you’re a pretty lousy shot.”

Willow tensed as Spike spoke those few incriminating words, her gaze instantly landing on Oz’s flummoxed face. The last thing she wanted was to lead an exposition on what precisely had happened the night Oz had broken free from his cage. The window of opportunity was there and Willow could almost see where the conversation was heading. So before the subject of when exactly had Xander ever demonstrated his not so stellar aim arose, the redheaded witch abruptly cut in. “Giles, could Buffy be a slayer?”

To Willow’s relief, everyone for the moment appeared to have forgotten about the squabble and turned to the Watcher for an answer.

What they hadn’t expected was an indignant snort from Spike. “You really need to get you’re team to crack open a book once in a while, Rupert. They should know Buffy’s a lil’ too old for the Slayer gig.”

Giles grimaced. “As much as it pains me to say this, Spike is right. Buffy is far past the age when most slayers are called. Also, I know for a fact that the Slayer in Cleveland is still alive. Though I am no longer with the Council, I remain in contact with her Watcher, most of the time just trying to get him to lend a hand with the crisis here in Sunnydale,” he clarified before bitterly adding. “The stupid berk never does give me a straight answer.”

“But it wouldn’t hurt to check, right?” Willow hesitantly threw out. “I mean, the Slayer can die at any time and what if Buffy got chosen? Stranger things have happened. I know of this spell…”

The sound of a menacing growl interrupted Willow’s explanation. “Think you’ve done enough damage with that mojo of yours Red. Don’t think for a second that I’m gonna let you anywhere near Buffy with a spell book.”

Oz stepped between Willow and Spike’s venomous stare, his demeanor unfazed and protective. The non-verbal showdown lasted for a few seconds until the vampire gave the wolf boy a bit of an appraisal, sizing him up. Finding a bit of newfound respect for the werewolf, Spike shrugged the whole thing off.

Snapping his head to the right to threateningly glare at Giles, Spike continued in a low voice, “If she doesn’t wake up the bloody well soon, I’m gonna…”

A moan silenced him. Rushing to Buffy’s side, he assisted her as she tried to sit up. “What happened?” she asked, her voice raspy.

“Had a bit of a faintin’ spell, luv,” Spike clarified for her before worriedly asking. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay,” Buffy reassured, suddenly becoming aware that she was sitting on a table and that everyone around her looked extremely concerned. Turning to gaze back up into Spike’s still pensive face, Buffy slowly began to remember. The memories began to rematerialize in her mind as the dizziness finally dissipated. “Did I almost get shot with an arrow?” she inquired in astonishment.

Spike nodded tentatively.

“And I caught it, didn’t I?” she asked, again in disbelief. It seemed so preposterous but it was what she remembered.

Spike smiled softly at her bafflement. He nodded again.

Buffy’s eyes widened in response. “Okay!” she nearly shouted. “My life just upgraded from weird to freakin’ bizarro!”

Spike couldn’t help but chuckle. Taking her hand in his, he asked one last time, “But you’re alright?”

Giving him her most genuine and loving smile, Buffy was quick to reassure. “Yeah, I’m fine. A little wigged, but fine.”

What was transpiring between the Master vampire and the blonde California girl did not go unnoticed by the rest of those in the room. Even Cordelia could not deny what she was witnessing.

“Why was I able to do that?” Buffy wondered, not really asking anyone in particular, simply hoping someone would provide an answer.

Spike looked to the Watcher. “C’mon , Rupes. This should be right up your alley. Wouldn’t want all those years at the Academy goin’ to waste, now would we? So, go on, have at it.”

Giles didn’t miss the taunting undertone of Spike’s pestering. The vampire was hoping that the Watcher would find himself stumped. Giles knew Spike wanted to embarrass him, to humiliate him, to show him what it felt like to be rendered useless. It wasn’t exactly vengeance but simply a bit of salt in a healing wound.

“Well…perhaps…It could be…” the ex-Watcher struggled, wracking his brain to come up with a possible explanation. Almost like a light bulb turning on, one idea popped into his head. Staring intently at Spike, Giles asked, “Have you claimed Buffy?”

“Does she look like a mindless drone to you?!” he angrily retorted.

“Uh, can someone please clarify for those of us who didn’t take Vampire 101?” Buffy spoke up, hating that they were talking about her but that she was completely out of the loop.

Sighing loudly, Spike forced himself to calm down. Buffy deserved to know what was going on. “When a vamp claims a human, the human becomes the property of the vamp. In essence, the poor sucker looses total control, turns into a complete automaton and has to do the vamp’s biddin’.”

Buffy continued to stare at Spike even after he finished with his explanation. “I don’t feel like I’m not in control of my body,” she declared, unsure if she should feel any different, absentmindedly stroking the marks on her neck.

“That’s ‘cos you haven’t been claimed. Need to bite you and officially declare you as mine before I can make you my puppet,” Spike lightheartedly enlightened.

“So this whole time you coulda had me by the metaphoric mind leash… and you didn’t,” Buffy slowly stated, remembering how hard he had tried to get her to submit all those months ago. “From the beginning, you didn’t even try.”

A twinge of regret flashed before Spike’s eyes. “Guess I was a glutton for punishment, wantin’ you to stay the way you are. Told you already pet, turnin’ you, claimin’ you would’ve been too easy. I was lookin’ for a challenge.” He said the last part with a smirk.

Buffy gave him one of her own cheeky grins. There was so much she still didn’t know about vampires even after spending the majority of her summer trapped in their lair. There was also so much she still didn’t know about Spike. The fact he hadn’t gone the easy route, even after all the times she had pushed him to the brink of sanity made Buffy love him all the more.

“Have you two mated?” Giles asked, no tip toeing around the uncomfortable issue. Simply straight to the point.

Spike froze, his body turning into one giant nerve.

“Mated?” Buffy wondered incredulously. “Please tell me you’re not actually asking me what it sounds like you’re asking me?”

Giles, whose cheeks were slightly tinted with embarrassment, was quick to elaborate. “It’s more or less a vampire marriage. It involves two vampires exchanging claims which inevitably bind them for eternity.”

Buffy’s gaze returned to Spike, who suddenly appeared uncharacteristically worried and insecure. Without looking back at Giles, she asked, “What’s it involve?”

“Well…uh…in the midst of…umm…intercourse, blood must be exchanged and the claim must be accepted by both parties involved,” Giles uncomfortably elucidated, becoming quite flustered.

“Way to reduce one of the most sacred moments in a vamps life to a textbook definition,” Spike criticized, forgetting his uncertainties for a brief second.

“So there’s more to it?” Buffy asked Spike, truly curious.

Spike nodded, somewhat comforted by the fact that she wanted to learn more about the ritual. “It links two vampires for eternity. They share each other’s emotions. If one gets hurt, the other experiences their pain. It’s almost as though the other vamp becomes a part of you. And when that part goes missing, it hurts, like a knife in your gut. Some vamps even stake themselves if their mates get dusted. The loss is just too unbearable.”

A few strange feelings stirred within Buffy as she heard Spike explain the intricacies of vampire mating. The connection, the unbearable pain he described somehow resonated within her.

Buffy understood why he had never mentioned the ritual. The idea of being magically connected to one person, let alone a vampire, for the rest of time would’ve totally freaked her out. To be honest, it still did. Staring at Spike’s silent standoffishness, Buffy gave him another warm smile. He hadn’t brought the issue up because it would have been another bit of rejection, something he most probably had had enough of since he had met her. Buffy knew she wasn’t ready for anything like that but she wasn’t about to rule out the possibility just yet.

She turned to Giles. “We’re not mated.” The Englishman almost looked relieved with the information. But before he could say anything, Buffy added with unquestionable certainty, “But I think I claimed Spike.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sins of the Past


Spike’s hand slid from the side of her face, down her marked neck, to the silk collar of the shirt she was wearing. His eyes darkened with lust as his fingers fiddled with the crimson colored material, his gaze focused on her exposed cleavage. “Love the shirt, pet,” he remarked.

“What this old thing?” Buffy joked as she observed him ogling her. She tried to act nonchalant even though his touches felt like fire against her skin, making her body hum with anticipation. “Just found it lying around.”

“So the shirt’s not yours?” Spike played along, distractedly tracing the two unfastened buttons.

“No, but the person who owns it is,” Buffy coyly replied.




The flashback playing in Buffy’s mind was cut short when a disbelieving voice broke through the baffled silence.

“Wanna run that by us again, luv,” Spike skeptically requested, staring at Buffy as though she were barmier than his nutter of an ex, Druscilla. “‘Cos I could’ve sworn you said that you claimed me.”

“No, you heard me right,” Buffy assertively confirmed. “I think I claimed you.”

Spike stared at Buffy incredulously. “Are you sure that bout of unconsciousness back there didn’t jiggle a few screws loose in that pretty lil’ head of yours, pet?” Spike exasperatedly wondered. Honestly, who had ever heard of a human claiming a vampire? The whole idea was bloody ridiculous.

Buffy lifted her chin, slightly offended by his blatant dismissal. “I’m not crazy, Spike,” she coolly state through clenched teeth.

“So when exactly did you claim me, pet?” Spike condescendingly asked. “When could’ve this completely absurd notion of yours have possibly occurred?”

Buffy glared at him. “The morning you came back,” she answered coldly. Stupid smug vampire.

Spike continued to gaze at her, his cerulean eyes filled with confusion as he racked his brain trying to zero-in on the exact moment in time Buffy had just mentioned. The past few days had all blended into one long haze of a never-ending nightmare, which made trying to remember that particular morning somewhat difficult. His eyes began to race back and forth as the images assaulted his mind. The same sea blue eyes that widened suddenly when he finally understood what day his seemingly insane girl was specifying to.

It had been during the morning after his return from being held hostage in the very house he was now standing in, when he and Buffy had made love in its truest sense. Spike lifted his head to meet Buffy’s knowing, and self-assured gaze. He understood the significance of that morning but what it had to do with her ‘claiming’ him, he hadn’t the foggiest clue.

“Remember that mornin’ with perfect clarity, luv, but I still don’t know what you’re gettin’ at,” Spike said with the utmost sincerity, his voice no longer filled with doubt or derision.

The other individuals in the room silently watched on as Buffy jumped off the wooden table and walked over to the pensive vampire. Spike grew tense, watching her with a wary eye as she approached him. Slowly tilting her head up, Buffy whispered the intimate answer in his awaiting ear. Giles observed as the vampire’s expression transformed from one of astonishment, then to that of contentment and then finally back to his original perplexed demeanor. It was still unknown what exactly the two were discussing, which made the anticipation hang thick in the air.

“That’s kind ‘f a long shot, pet,” Spike thoughtfully remarked as he scratched the back of his platinum head.

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, the Watcher finally spoke up. “Well, what exactly happened that would make you think that you claimed Spike?”

A rosy blush crept over Buffy’s cheeks. This was gonna be awkward.

“Ummm…It’s kinda a technicality really. I was wearing Spike’s shirt and he asked me if it belonged to me. I told him no, that the shirt wasn’t mine but that the person who owned it was. So basically, in a not so direct kind of way, I said Spike was mine,” she uncomfortably elaborated, conscious of the various eyes staring at her.

Giles quirked an eyebrow. He was just about ready to instantly discredit the girl’s hypothesis when he stopped himself. His gaze landed on the marks on Buffy’s exposed neck. Her idea was a bit of a stretch, but she might be onto something.

“Did he bite you after you said that?” Giles carefully asked, though completely unaware of the implications of his question.

“Uhhhh…not too soon after,” Buffy replied, bowing her head and blushing a deep crimson as she tried to avoid eye contact with either Giles or Spike.

The Watcher contemplated her response. “It may be that that was enough to lay a claim on Spike. Vampire rituals and their associated magics are quite ambiguous in their parameters and procedures. Perhaps Buffy has at last accomplished what no other human has ever done before,” Giles theorized, taking off his glasses to give them a thorough cleaning.

“Claiming is a power thing, right?” Xander’s uneasy voice surprisingly filtered through the room.

Giles quickly nodded.

“Then what vamp would ever want to lose the upper hand? Especially to a human?” Xander bewilderedly wondered.

“Whelps got a point,” Spike unexpectedly agreed. “No right-minded vampire would let its food get the better of ‘im.”

Giles gave Spike a dubious scowl. “Speaks volumes about you then, doesn’t it?”

Buffy stepped in before the two broke out into an all out British disfight. “Giles, what are you saying?”

“Spike must’ve wanted you to claim him,” the Watcher boldly remarked.

“I bloody well did not!” the vampire adamantly protested. “Do I look like ‘m on soddin’ puppet strings?”

Buffy also chimed in, though much more calmly than Spike. “Yeah, Giles. I can’t control Spike even if I wanted to,” she concurred with her vamp’s statement, though she was technically contradicting herself.

“The claim is not solely a means by which the vampire gains dominion over a human,” Giles began to clarify. “The human becomes submissive to the vampire, willing to give of him or herself to their new master.”

Spike was becoming frustrated. “Tell me something I don’t already know, you git!”

Giles glared at him before continuing. “You are on some level giving a part of yourself to Buffy. Much like how a claimed human would willingly give his or her blood, life force, to a vampire, you’re giving her…”

Buffy abruptly interjected. “Your powers,” she whispered as it all began to make sense.

“Precisely,” Giles declared, placing his glasses back on his face.

Buffy began to recall other strange instances that had occurred since she had exacted the claim. She could remember how surprised Spike had been when she had let him feed off of her after days without really eating or sleeping. There was also the instance of the near knock out punch she had delivered to Natasha’s face. And as she tried to wrack her brain to bring forth any vestigial memories from the night she had been taken from the lair, a few oddities came to mind. Buffy distinctly remembered fighting the intruders who had crashed into the room. And for a second, she was certain she’d been winning. She might have even kicked some serious ass if she hadn’t been drugged.

Every single one of those abnormal experiences had taken place in times of extreme stress, where survival instinct had taken over all vital mental and motor function. She hadn’t been given the chance to realize something had drastically changed. There had been no opportunity to contemplate the probable causes or implications of her metamorphosis. Buffy had simply been focused on staying alive.

Though now the wool was pulled from over her eyes. There was nothing really distracting her anymore. No more impending death or frenzied adductions. Nothing but contemplative silence.

She knew she shouldn’t be that strong. She knew she shouldn’t be that resilient. Yet here she was, plucking arrows out of the air with her bare hands. And it terrified her to the core.

“So I’m like super girl cuz I’m mystically tapping into Spike?” she asked, putting on an air of skepticism to hide her fear.

“So it seems,” Giles replied thoughtfully, directing his gaze at the vampire.

“Is it permanent?” Buffy asked in a low whisper, her frightened hazel gaze also falling upon Spike.

Giles nodded. “Yes it is.”

Buffy didn’t know how to react to the news, so she just kept on watching Spike instead. The vampire was simply staring at her with timid cerulean eyes. She knew he was waiting for her reaction. Buffy had a suspicion that he was expecting some kind of blame for their latest predicament but she could still see a glimmer of hope behind the insecure glances. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to be totally comfortable with the situation but Buffy knew she could never say it was Spike’s fault. After all, she was the one that made the claim.

Buffy still didn’t know how to react, but she knew she wasn’t mad at Spike. With that at least figured out, she gave him a warm, dazzling smile.

Spike’s face instantly lit up, his tense body relaxing as it was suffused with relief. He gave Buffy a bashful grin in return.

Cordelia, who had been on the periphery of the whole conversation, was now observing the travesty before her with tears in her eyes. There weren’t words to describe how overjoyed she’d been when she’d first discovered that Buffy was alive. Now, however, the only thing she felt was resentment and confusion. Nothing made sense anymore. Feeling overwhelmed, Cordy slowly got up from her chair and began to march out of the room.

Buffy caught sight of the movement in the corner of her eye. She instantly turned her head, only to find her best friend walk out of the dinning room, wiping angry tears from her face. Buffy’s automatic reaction was to chase after Cordelia.

“Cordy wait!” she called out, rushing after her friend. She would’ve caught up with Cordelia too if it wasn’t for a strong arm holding her back. Spinning around, she found it was Spike’s restraining grasp that was preventing her from going after Cordy.

“Let go of me. I gotta go talk to her,” Buffy urgently pleaded.

“And tell her what, luv? Nothin’ you say is gonna make it easier for her,” he harshly, though truthfully, informed. “The girl’s been through a lot, and now she’s got to deal with her best friend bein’ in love with the Big Bad that made her life a livin’ hell in the first place.” Releasing her arm, he took hold of her hand instead. “Might be just a lil’ too much for her to take in right now, pet. Just give the girl some time,” he gently advised, sympathy evident in his softened features.

Buffy wanted to ignore him, push him away and keep on her pursuit of Cordy, but she knew Spike was right. Sighing heavily, she turned back to the remaining people in the room. The looks she got were far from those she’d been expecting.

Spike noticed the slacked jawed gawks and taken aback stares as well. “What the bloody hell are you all starin’ at?”

It was Xander who responded. With a dumbfounded gape and shaky hand, he pointed to the large window behind the couple that was supplying the room with afternoon sunshine. The exact same sunshine in which the unscathed vampire was presently bathed in.

Buffy also became aware of the strange circumstance. Spike was in the sun but he wasn’t dusty. That was…well…it was kinda cool.

With an awestruck expression, Buffy smiled brightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “The sunlight doesn’t hurt you.”

Oz cut in before the vampire had a chance to respond. “Are you human?” he bewilderedly wondered, demonstrating a rare bit of emotion.

Spike vamped out, amber eyes glistening as his lips curled into a fanged smirk. “That answer your question, mate?”

Xander fell into one of the dining room chairs, starting to understand Cordelia’s sudden urge to bolt. His brain hurt from trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He knew he was standing on top of a Hellmouth, but this was a little over the top even for Sunnydale. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, Xander stared back at the sunlit vampire. Okay, so he wasn’t hallucinating. There was only one thing left to ask. “How did this happen?”

Spike stepped out of Buffy’s embrace and shook off his game face, turning toward the meek redhead on the other side of the room. With a look of blatant accusation, he gestured to Willow. “Can thank the Wicca wannabe for my newfound invincibility.”

Willow’s eyes widened in distress as she suddenly became the center of attention. “My fault?” she squeaked. “I didn’t do anything.” She paused for a moment before growing very offended. “And I’m not a wannabe! Full Wicca here, bub.”

Spike gave her a contemptuous glower. “No doubting you can do spells, Red. Can attest to that myself. ‘S just that things haven’t been the same since you undid that spell so I could save you from wolf boy.”

“Spell?” Buffy inquired worryingly. She knew Giles and the rest of them had been the ones who had kidnapped and tortured Spike, but what else had they done to him? And what did it have to do with a spell? Her question remained unanswered as another voice reacted to Spike’s little exposition.

“He saved you? From me?” Oz asked, utterly stunned. His voice was filled with unbridled shock, but it wasn’t too difficult to pick up on the subtle notes of self-hatred and disgust.

Willow gave a hesitant nod. “You broke out of your cage the first night Spike was here. I had to break the hindrance spell on him because…you were about to…” She couldn’t finish. Her boyfriend just looked too devastated.

Without another word, Oz lowered the crossbow that he had been cradling in his hands onto the dining room table and quietly exited the room. Willow took off, sobs slipping from her lips as tried to catch up with him.

After the departure of the witch and the werewolf, only four people remained. Pushing aside the awkwardness the two redheads had left behind them, Buffy asked the obvious questions. “Why was Oz in a cage and why’d you call him wolf boy?”

“He’s a werewolf, luv,” Spike answered sadly. Even if the mongrel had taken a bite out of him, he felt for the boy. Wasn’t easy bein’ in love with a human when you got a demon inside of you.

“Oh,” she curtly replied. Guess that answered that. Wait. Did he say werewolf? “Spike, didn’t he bite you?”

The question perked Giles’s attention.

“Yeah, he did. Right before Sure Shot over there tranqed him,” Spike revealed, throwing a nod in Xander’s direction.

“Hey!” Xander indignantly exclaimed.

Buffy tentatively approached Spike, concern evident in her hazel eyes. “If you get bitten by a werewolf, doesn’t that mean…?”

“I got it!” Xander confidently announced. “Captain Peroxide’s some kind of werewolf/ vampire hybrid, isn’t he? That’s why he can go in the sun.”

For a split second, Spike appeared deeply worried. Lucky for him, Giles was swift to reject Xander’s proposal.

“That’s impossible. The demon which creates the werewolf requires a living host. Since Spike is a vampire and technically dead, he is immune to the bite,” the Watcher explained.

“Then does anybody else wanna take a shot at it? Cuz I’m fresh out of ideas,” Xander grumpily wondered, hating how his idea got shot down so quickly.

“You wanna tell them Giles, or should I?”

The unexpected voice belonged to Willow, who was standing in the room’s doorway, holding an open spell book in her hands. Her eyes were bloodshot, undoubtedly from crying. Buffy, along with the rest of those in the room, assumed that Willow hadn’t been able to get through to Oz. He had probably shut her out.

The Watcher nodded, slumping his shoulders in surrender. He knew the truth was bound to come out sometime. “I’ll tell them, Willow.”

Spike was immediately suspicious. “Exactly what is it you’ve been hidin’ from us, Rupert?”

“It concerns the hindrance spell I asked Willow to cast. It was meant to debilitate you, render you incapacitated during the questioning,” Giles cautiously said, carefully choosing his words.

Spike scoffed. “Didn’t know ‘questioning’ was the latest euphemism for torture,” he snidely remarked.

Giles didn’t bother to defend or legitimize his past actions. What he had done had been a horrible, amoral mistake. He had almost become what he hated most in the world, no better than the vampire he had cruelly tortured. If life had taught him anything it was that everything came full circle. Spike would get his comeuppance eventually and Giles had to stick to that belief. He’d lose his soul if he didn’t.

Buffy stared at the ponderingly silent Watcher. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Giles admitted. “The recipient of the spell is weakened for three days. After those full three days, the reverse of the spell’s initial outcome takes into effect. Even if the spell is broken.”

Buffy’s brow crinkled, the wheels in her head turning. “So since he was really weak for three days does that mean he’s gonna be really strong for another three?”

Giles despairingly nodded. “Yes.”

Xander couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You mean you knew this was going to happen? Why would you do the spell if you knew there was a chance that Spike could go Incredible Hulk on us?”

Giles lowered his eyes in shame. This was it. He was going to forever lose their trust.

It was Spike who grudgingly explained to the whelp the reason behind the Watcher’s brief stint into madness. “He wasn’t planin’ on lettin’ me live past the third day, isn’t that right Rupes?”

Giles didn’t say anything but his silence spoke volumes.

Xander stared at the man he considered his mentor, his father, in sheer bafflement. He glimpsed over at Willow, who was gazing at Giles with the same disappointed shock. Neither knew what to say. Giles had always been the moral standard to which they’d measured themselves up to. It was like being told your dad was a drug dealer. Their lives weren’t completely shattered but their relationship with Giles was never going to be the same again.

Spike rolled his eyes at the melodrama acting out before him. “You humans are unbelievably overdramatic. Sure, the Watcher was a git for what he did, but at least he had a reason.”

The room grew quiet as incredulous stares were turned in Spike’s direction. Did he really just defend Giles? Buffy quirked a brow in surprise while Willow and Xander wondered if they had unknowingly slipped into some alternate dimension. Giles’s flabbergasted expression was enough of an indication as to how he felt about the vampire’s actions.

“And what would that reason be exactly?” Buffy suspiciously asked. She didn’t understand why Spike was coming to Giles’s defense. She had been the one who had tended to his wounds. She knew scar by scar, welt by welt, to what extent he had suffered at the hands of the Watcher. Buffy wasn’t sure if she could even forgive these people for what they had done to Spike.

The atmosphere shifted again, as though a sudden chill had descended upon them with her one question. As she glanced about the room, no one could look her in the eye. They knew something she didn’t and her immediate reaction was to turn to Spike.

“What aren’t you telling me Spike?”

The vampire kept is eyes to the floor, his voice low and emotionless as he began to fill Buffy in on the sins of his past. “’S ‘bout the Slayer,” he vaguely mentioned.

“The one that killed the Master?” Buffy inquired, recalling their past conversations, back when they’d used to will the long sleepless nights away by simply talking to one another. It seemed like so long ago, those first few months in the lair, as though it had all happened in another lifetime.

“Yeah,” Spike dolefully answered. “She was Giles’s charge.”

Buffy glimpsed at the Watcher, who at the moment appeared to be caught between feelings of rage, sorrow and astonishment. “Did you kill her?” she asked.

Spike gulped. “Yeah,” he rasped as he continued to keep his eyes on the floor. “Dru was sick and the only way I could cure her was with Slayer’s blood.”

Giles sneered at the vampire’s played down explanation. “There’s more to it than that and you know it,” the Watcher bitterly stated. “You weren’t merciful, Spike, not to me and most definitely not to Sarah.” Giles bit back a choke before he continued, trying to keep his cool. “And once you executed your sadistic little ploy, your status was elevated enough so that you could claim the most powerful clan in town. By killing Sarah you ruined us all, Spike.”

Buffy remained speechless. She remembered Spike telling her that he had done something really big to get his hands on the leadership of the clan. She was kinda surprised she had never put two and two together.

Gathering a bit of courage, Spike lifted his head up to look at Buffy. He regretted it the second her uncertain gaze locked with his. For the briefest moment he spotted something in her hazel eyes he hadn’t seen in the longest time. Fear. It might have only lasted for a millisecond, but it was enough to remind Spike that he didn’t deserve Buffy. Not her forgiveness and most certainly not her love.

Spike was also becoming increasingly aware of the lack of physical contact between them. Buffy seemed so far away, as if miles upon miles now separated them. He observed her body language, noting how she had wrapped her arms around her body. She didn’t want to be touched and he couldn’t help but take it as a sign of rejection. Even if he did know better.

Spike stared back down at his boots. “The chit was tough,” started to say out of the blue. “One of the best slayers I’ve ever fought. A warrior to the core.”

Giles interrupted, his fury getting the better of him. “Yet she wasn’t deserving of a warrior’s death, was she? You couldn’t even allow her to die with dignity. The body I found was not my Sarah,” Giles heatedly spewed.

Buffy felt her stomach churn. She didn’t want to imagine what had been done to the Slayer to restore Druscilla to health. The girl must’ve definitely suffered.

“She was the Slayer and I was the Big Bad, and we danced, just like how it’s always been done. Didn’t end like it should’ve, not arguin’ that, but I was more concerned with my Sire’s diminishin’ health than with any universally unspoken vampire/slayer code of honor.” Spike spoke softly, directing his words at Buffy. “Was never ‘bout the power, pet. I just wanted Dru better again. Everythin’ else was just a perk. ”

Buffy nibbled on her bottom lip. She hated the urgency in his voice and how his once vibrant blue eyes had suddenly gone dull. She’d never seen him in such despair. It broke Buffy’s heart.

“I know,” she whispered, bridging the gap between them with one very significant step. She touched his arm tenderly. “I believe you, Spike.”

Spike stared from the warm hand on his arm to the gentle smile on Buffy’s face. Relief washed over him and his crestfallen expression vanished. Instead he gazed into Buffy’s eyes, utterly captivated. The world around them faded as Spike realized that Buffy did really love him. Just for who he was.

The other three people in the room had one by one quietly slipped out unnoticed, having had enough emotional and ethical turmoil to last them a lifetime. They had been shown a glimmer of remorse from the vampire who had brought so much pain and devastation to their lives. They all needed time to think, to muddle through the rampant thoughts in their heads. But first they had to get as far away from the unconventional couple as humanly possible.

 

Next