Chapter Twenty-Eight: Seeking Solace


“You shouldn’t be out here. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

A startled Cordelia tore her gaze away from the rose tinted sky to see who it was that had found her. Much to her dismay, she saw a sheepish Xander standing in the doorway, staring at her with a worried expression on his face. She hurriedly wiped the remnants of her tears from her dampened cheeks before combing her fingers swiftly through her dark hair. She knew she looked like a complete wreck and the last person she wanted to see her like this was standing only two feet away.

“It’s okay,” Cordy quickly replied, hiding her sadness behind a mask of apathy. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a small wooden crucifix. “I’ve got it covered.”

Xander smiled at her offhanded humor. When he had first met Cordelia, his initial impression had been that she was just some vapid, superficial California girl. Yet the more he got to know her, the more Xander realized that there was a great person hiding beneath all that Queen C exterior.

He had heard Cordelia’s fervent demands to find her best friend and he had listened on as she had described her escape from the Bronze that horrible night months ago. Cordy was one of the bravest girls he’d ever met and with that, she had his utmost respect. Though they bickered constantly, she never backed down, always giving as good as she got. And sometimes, when he’d catch her off guard, without her defensive outer shell, Cordy would laugh at his jokes. And that’s when the world stopped for him. When he saw her smile.

“I still think you should come inside,” he gently insisted, taking a step out on the front porch toward her.

“Dolce and Gabbana, the Fashion Gods themselves, couldn’t lure me back into that house, even if they were using their latest fall line as bait. So don’t waste your breath,” she stubbornly refused.

Xander nodded. To be honest, he didn’t want to go back in either. “That’s cool,” he shrugged, standing next to her, his gaze falling on the same sunset she was absentmindedly observing. “Guess I’ll just stick around then.”

Cordelia looked over at him. “So what’re you now? My protector?” she sarcastically asked, acting like she wasn’t touched by the gesture.

He shrugged. “How about I just play the role of human shield?”

Cordelia chuckled softly. “I guess that can be allowed.”

Xander’s face lit up into a big goofy grin. He’d made her smile. “I’ll be here if you need me,” he whispered.

Unexpectedly, Cordy bowed her head as renewed tears trickled down her face.

“Cordy?” Xander called out, confused by her abrupt change in emotional state. Had he said something to upset her? He was about to kick himself, when Cordelia began to shake her head.

“God, everything is so screwed up,” she exasperatedly exclaimed.

“I know,” Xander mumbled.

She scoffed in annoyance. “Way to be Mr. Supportive here. Aren’t you supposed to be all ‘Everything will be okay’ or ‘It’s not so bad’? Really, Giles could’ve done a better job at cheering me up.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he uttered in disbelief.

Her irritated expression melted again into a mess of tears. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. We were gonna save Buffy and she’d be so happy to get away from that Eighties Punk Reject,” she whimpered resentfully before shouting. “How could she possibly be in love with a vampire?!”

“You can’t help who you fall in love with,” Xander sullenly remarked.

Cordy glared at him. “You really suck at this.”

“Well you’re just gonna have to deal with it,” he harshly stated. “By the looks of it, those two are gonna be attached at the hip for a very, very long time.”

“How can you be okay with this?” she bewilderedly wondered. “It’s Spike! The guy you’ve been trying to kill for like what, five years now? And now you’re just gonna be all ‘Aw shucks, he’s kinda sorry for screwing up everyone’s life so we should just let him have Buffy’?!”

“It’s not that simple, Cordy,” Xander sourly commented. “Believe me. No one wants to drive a redwood through his chest more than I do.”

“You wanna bet,” she huffily muttered.

“But,” Xander continued, ignoring Cordelia’s snide remark, “Buffy scares the crap out of me. I don’t wanna be on her bad side, so I’m keeping my sharp pointy sticks to myself.”

Cordy sighed despondently. “This is all my fault.”

“How’d you figure?” he inquired skeptically.

“The road trip was my idea,” she dejectedly confessed. “Sunnydale was just supposed to be another pit stop but I overheard a bunch of girls talking about the Bronze so I convinced Buffy that we should stay and check it out. She didn’t want to but you know how I am. It’s my way or no way.”

“Cordy,” Xander entreated as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. “You couldn’t have known.”

She sniffled, pulling away from his comforting touch. “Whatever hell-on-earth Buffy lived through these past few months was because of me,” Cordelia shakily whispered. “That’s why I had to get out of there. I couldn’t stand seeing my best friend with that thing, knowing that it’s all fault. I…I…” she suddenly broke off, sobs ripping through her body. “I just want everything to go back to the way it should,” she hysterically cried, covering her face with her hands.

In a bold, unexpected move, Xander wrapped his arms around Cordelia’s shaking form, pulling her against him. He was surprised when she didn’t push him away but instead melted into the embrace, clutching onto him for dear life. He rubbed her back soothingly as she poured herself out onto his shoulder.

Xander didn’t know what words to use to console her. He didn’t want to lie to her, to simply tell her everything would be alright. So he told her what he knew for certain. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here,” he tenderly reassured. “No matter what, we’ll get through it together.”

Cordelia suddenly realized how close she was to Xander. She also noticed how good it felt being in his arms, hearing his calming words. Despite the emotional turmoil she was in, everything seemed to fade away when she was with him. She never wanted to let go.

“You promise?” she quietly rasped, staring up into his warm brown eyes.

“I promise,” he huskily whispered, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.

Their gazes locked for the briefest second before Cordelia gingerly rested her head on his chest.

“You know what the only good thing that came out of all this is?” she said softly.

“What’s that?” he played along, feeling a little relieved by her lighthearted tone.

“If it weren’t for Spike, I would’ve never met you,” Cordy stated, her voice bittersweet.

Xander tightened his grip around her, loving how she let out a small contented sigh. “Never thought I’d say this but I guess I do owe the Bleached Wonder for something.”


*********


Giles leaned up against the kitchen counter, his hands firmly planted on its wooden surface. Not two inches away from him was a crystal tumbler filled to the brim with a twenty year old scotch, which in his opinion wasn’t remotely strong enough for the occasion. His head was still swimming with so many conflicting thoughts that it would take more than alcohol to ease his troubled mind. A full frontal lobotomy couldn’t alleviate the present strain on his conscience.

Rubbing his face roughly with one hand, Giles reached for the glass. Though he knew the booze wasn’t going to solve anything, it was still better than nothing. Taking a deep gulp, the Watcher enjoyed the distractedly burning sensation in his throat. It reminded him that he was still alive, that he was real. Unfortunately it also reminded him that the mess he was now in was just as real. Setting the drink back down on the counter, Giles grumbled irately. He knew the alcohol wouldn’t have worked. Pushing off of the counter, he began to pace the empty kitchen.

He had to leave the dining room; he couldn’t stand to watch Buffy and Spike together. It disturbed the Watcher to look on as the same monster that had killed Sarah pleaded to Buffy to believe that the Slayer’s death had been some sort of altruistic deed to cure his Sire. Giles could feel the bile in his stomach begin to rise just thinking about it.

Even if what the vampire had said was true, if he had indeed killed Sarah for a selfless cause, Spike had still delighted in his rank as Master. Though he may not have initially sought it out, the vampire had relished in the power and mayhem his clan had given him. Spike wasn’t sorry for what he had done; he was just sorry that Buffy had found out.

That was another interesting point. Spike only seemed to display any kind of remorse if his previous transgressions somehow concerned Buffy. Whether it be a sin committed against her specifically or simply something he had done which would devaluate him in her eyes. It was strange how a few months ago Spike didn’t give a flying fig for anyone other than himself and now he was begging for Buffy’s understanding. Knowing the vampire like he did, Giles had to admit it was a drastic change.

And then there was the claim. Buffy was now as fast and as strong as a vampire, which meant that no one could oppose her. No one could go up against Spike either considering his now elevated super strength. Giles cringed at how the vampire’s troublesome invincibility was mainly his fault. He couldn’t eliminate Spike nor could he simply kick them out to deal with the cruel world all on their own. Giles could care less about Spike but Buffy was still human and therefore an innocent. Unfortunately, Giles knew that wherever Spike went so would Buffy. So for the time being, the Watcher was going to be stuck with the vampire under his roof.

Giles stopped dead in his tracks, the wheels in his head turning as an idea began to take shape. If Buffy could somehow be convinced to join them in their demon hunting efforts, then Spike would surely follow. As much as Giles hated to admit it, with Spike and Buffy on their side, they might have an actual chance at taking back Sunnydale.

The Watcher took hold of the abandoned tumbler and had himself another gulp. Setting it back down on the counter, he smirked. He couldn’t help but reflect upon the irony of the fact that the vampire they had sworn their lives to destroy would soon be a crucial member of their team.


********


Willow stood solemnly outside the door to the bedroom which she shared with Oz. She had returned to her hallway vigil after she had left the dining room. She couldn’t stand to see the love between Spike and Buffy when her own relationship was on the verge of total meltdown.

Exhaling loudly, Willow placed her hand lightly on the wooden door, which had been locked the last time she had been upstairs. She was afraid to turn the knob. If it was still locked, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

With all the courage she could muster up, Willow knocked on the door. She waited for an answer but no one responded. Turning the knob slightly, she was filled both with a sense of relief and trepidation. Oz was letting her in but for what she wasn’t certain.

Stepping lightly into the room, she scanned her darkened surroundings, searching for her boyfriend. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted him, sitting in the corner sofa chair, elbows resting on his knees as he stared out into the dark. For a moment, Willow said nothing and just watched Oz mindlessly stare at nothing. She didn’t want to approach him, confront him for the fear of what she might unleash. She didn’t want him angry at her anymore but she didn’t want him to push her away either.

Oz broke the silence for her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she meekly replied, wringing her hands nervously

That’s where it stood for a few more minutes, the tensions high between them. Willow cracked first, the tears already slipping down her face. “Please don’t hate me,” she hiccupped through her sobs, her lip quivering uncontrollable. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, Oz, but it was an accident. I’m sorry. If you want me sleep in another room tonight I understand…I’ll just grab my stuff…”

Oz stood up during Willow’s emotional rant, edging his way closer to her. As she moved to leave, he grabbed onto her, pulling her into his embrace. She clung to him desperately, needing the physical reassurance that he didn’t despise her for what she had done. Pulling away, he looked deep into her watery green eyes, his face in its typically stoic expression though his gaze was filled with love.

“I don’t hate you, Will. I could never hate you,” he hoarsely confessed.

“Then why with the cold shoulder?” she wondered, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Oz bowed his head, shame filling him. “I just needed to clear my head. Think some stuff through.”

“So you had to shut me out to do that?” Willow asked, unable to hold back some of her anger. It had hurt when Oz had refused to talk to her, when he had refused to let her in.

He nodded, knowing he deserved whatever spiteful things she had to say to him. “I couldn’t have you around me, Will. Not after what almost happened,” he dejectedly explained.

Willow wished he would stop blaming himself. It was exactly why she had lied to him in the first place. “Oz…”

“I could’ve killed you Willow,” he crestfallenly cut her off, his voice strained as he tried to suppress his emotions. “And that’s why I couldn’t be around you. Every time I looked at you, all I could think of was that I almost killed you,” Oz sorrowfully confessed.

Willow slipped her hand into his. “I still shouldn’t have lied to you. Maybe if I had been the one to tell you, it wouldn’t have been such a shock,” she despondently remarked, stroking his hand with her thumb. “Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten so mad.”

Oz shook his head. “If I was mad it wasn’t because you lied to me will. I was mad at myself,” he miserably explained. “I’m dangerous Will and you shouldn’t be around me.”

Willow’s eyes widened as the tears returned. “No,” she sternly refused. “You are not going anywhere, mister. We can deal with this. We’ve been dealing with this for the past five years,” she hoarsely argued.

“What do you want me to do?” Oz desperately asked. “Your life is on the line every second you’re with me. I know we’ve coped but its getting harder as the years go by. Sometimes I stay up at night, worrying about the day when I can’t fight it anymore and just let the demon take total control,” he anxiously explained, his distressed emotions uncharacteristically evident in his voice and on his face. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Will.”

Willow placed her hands on either side of his face. “We can work around this, Oz. We can ask Giles for help. There’ve got to be some incantations or meditations you can do,” she assured him, her confident voice soft with love. “This is fixable.”

Oz nodded as Willow lowered her arms, wrapping them around his neck. “Okay,” he whispered croakily.

She smiled brightly. There had been a terrible weight laid upon her shoulders the night Oz had escaped his cage. Her boyfriend’s tentative smile lifted all that heavy guilt away. “I love you, Oz.”

He cleared his throat, trying to push back the tears that were about to spill. “I love you too,” he hoarsely replied, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

Willow leaned in to kiss him, her lips pressing gently against his. Oz ran his hand through her red hair, his fingers grazing the back of her neck, making Willow shiver from his touch. Not breaking contact, they moved toward their bed, kissing and touching with increasing need, both feeling the necessity to reaffirm the emotional and physical bonds that had been strained over the past few hours.

Oz gently lowered Willow onto the soft mattress, a genuine smile on his lips as he slowly climbed in after her. As their kisses deepened, they lost themselves in each other, the problems they were bound to face pushed far, far away. For the time being, it was just the two of them and the love they would always share.


*********


Sensing the room was more vacant than it had been minutes before, Buffy broke her gaze from Spike and glanced around in confusion. “Where’d everybody go?”

Snatching Buffy up in his arms, Spike grinned with a renewed sense of mirth. “Who cares,” he shrugged off with a chuckle. “Say it again, pet.”

Buffy gave him a perplexed look. “Say what?”

“Please don’t play with me luv,” Spike begged, his voice coarse and urgent.

Buffy gave him a bashful smile, bowing her head away from his intense stare. “I love you, Spike,” she whispered as her heart pounded in her chest.

Buffy returned her gaze back to a mesmerized Spike, feeling herself grow flush as his shimmering blue eyes gradually clouded with desire. Her body tingled from the sudden awareness of his close proximity. His cold hands suddenly traveled up her hot arms, one resting on her shoulder as the other cupped her blushing face. Buffy licked her lips in anticipation; she knew what was to come.

Spike leaned in slowly, grazing his lips against hers. The kiss was gentle at first, as though he wanted to recommit to his memory how soft her lips were or how sweet she tasted. However, the short time they had spent apart had felt like an eternity to him, and he hungered for her like a starving man hungered for his next meal. He prodded her mouth with his tongue, feeling his cock harden when she permitted him entrance into the moist cavern. Spike moaned noisily when she began to use her hot, slick tongue to grapple with his own.

Buffy felt like that missing piece within her had finally returned. Whether it was the claim or just her need for Spike, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she felt whole when she was with Spike and that it didn’t feel wrong. Her breath hitched when the hand that had been placed on her shoulder began to move up, the thumb tracing the scars on her neck. She broke off, gasping for air. Spike took the opportunity to latch his mouth onto the other side of her neck, sucking on the wounds there. She mewled as he tortured her with ecstasy.

Buffy felt herself get pushed up against a wall, the evidence of Spike’s arousal pressing against her stomach. She wrapped one leg around his waist as he continued to play with the erogenous marks he had left on her neck a few days before. The day she had refused to tell him she loved. The same day he had refused to let her go.

The wonderful sensations that Spike had been drawing out of her body suddenly vanished. Opening her eyes, she realized he was no where near her. In actual fact, he was a few feet away, holding his nose, a look of pain on his face.

“Ow!” he bellowed. “What was that for?” he asked irately.

Buffy stared down at her hand, which at the present moment was clenched into a tight fist. She stared at it in bafflement. Was she still so upset with Spike about denying her her freedom that she would go into a rage blackout and clobber him in the nose?

Yeah, that sounded about right. The hurt was still there and even if she loved him, she was stilled pissed off. With all the hoopla of the past several hours, she must’ve pushed the anger aside, but now it was all she could think about. Buffy knew it must really be bugging her since she chose to push Spike away during his mind melting ministrations and punch him in the nose over it.

“Why didn’t you just let me go?” she asked out of the blue, anxious for an answer.

Spike’s befuddled look disappeared as he began to understand what Buffy was referring to. “We’re back to this, are we?” he irritably wondered, frustrated that she would stop their little make up session over this.

Buffy crossed her arms. “Damn right we’re back to this,” she huffily replied. “I hope you know that things aren’t gonna be like they were. You have no say, and I mean absolutely no say, in what I do. I can come and go as I please. You’re not my Master anymore, Spike,” Buffy firmly declared, making sure he understood the current state of their relationship.

Spike exhaled in surrender. “Pet, I stopped with that whole mastery bullshit the second I ripped Damon off of you,” he confessed, hoping she believed him. “Maybe even before then.”

“Then what was with keeping me locked up in that room?” she incredulously asked. “Why couldn’t you just say ‘You’re free’? I wouldn’t have left, you know. I would’ve stayed.”

Spike flung his arms up in exasperation. “How was I to know?” he heatedly threw back. “How was I to know you wouldn’t scamper off?”

Buffy frowned. “Because I love you.”

Spike paused, letting the words sink in. The whole idea of Buffy loving him was so foreign that even though he’d heard her say it before, he still needed time to take it all in. Turning his saddened gaze to the floor, Spike replied forlornly, “Didn’t know it at the time.”

Buffy sighed. “Spike, I didn’t tell you at the time because I wasn’t ready to lay it all on the line when you were still technically keeping me hostage. I was afraid of what my feelings meant,” she tried to explained, her voice filled with past insecurities.

Spike nodded, lifting his head look at her. His eyes were surprisingly bright and a hesitant smile was tugging at his lips. “Guess I should be moved by that grand gesture back there, eh?” he said sheepishly, gesturing his head over to where Buffy had declared her love before miraculously catching the wayward arrow. “Must’ve been hard announcin’ it to a bunch of white hats.”

“They were going to kill you, Spike,” she rationalized, her serious tone veiling the fear that resurfaced from the mere thought of Spike potentially turning to dust. “When faced with the choice of you dying or telling a bunch of strangers that I love you, I chose the latter.”

“They’re not all strangers luv,” he commented, his eyes filled with sympathy as her face contorted in sorrow. “She’ll come around, pet.”

Buffy blinked back a few tears, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered. “Not now.”

Spike understood, so he returned to their previous topic, his voice low and self-deprecating. “I know I should’ve let you go, luv, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it,” he wretchedly confessed. “I can’t live without you, Buffy. When I though I lost you, it felt like the whole bloody world crashed down on me. I would’ve let Damon have me if I hadn’t picked up on the wolf musk in your room.”

Buffy gave Spike a perplexed and somewhat repulsed grimace.

“It was Oz, pet,” Spike clarified.

“Oh,” she abruptly replied, at last knowing how Spike had tracked her down. Her brow crinkled for a moment before her eyes widened with fear. “So does that mean Damon’s still…?”

Spike nodded. “The tosser’s still kickin’. We’re not through with ‘em yet, Buffy. He’ll be back,” he bitterly announced.

It was at that moment that Giles stepped into the room, staring at the couple with an unusual glimmer of optimism in his eyes. “Then we should ready ourselves for when he does.”

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Games


“Then we should ready ourselves for when he does.”

Spike and Buffy turned to stare at the intruder, both a little surprised by his announcement.

“What’re you gettin’ at, Watcher?” Spike asked suspiciously, somewhat put off by Giles’s enthusiasm.

“We gather forces to defeat Damon,” he clarified.

Spike quirked his scarred brow, giving the Watcher an incredulous look. “You actually think I’m gonna drop a century’s worth of unbridled evil so I can just don some poncy white hat and pick up a stake like the rest of you streeters?”

Giles cleared his throat, suddenly uncertain about his perceptions on Spike’s willingness to redeem himself. “Well…uh…yes.”

Spike shrugged. “Alright.”

Giles gaped at the vampire’s one-eighty shift in attitude. Maybe Spike was actually looking to right his wrongs. “So you’ll join us?”

Spike nodded indifferently. “Well, yeah,” he answered offhandedly. “Clan’s gone to the shitters, so s’not like I gotta keep up with appearances,” he apathetically explained. “Plus, the pillock’s got a whole army of vamps to back ‘im up. I’m not gonna gripe if you’re willin’ to sacrifice a few of your own so I can get on with some serious payback.”

Giles sighed disappointedly. He would think twice before ever giving the vampire the benefit of the doubt again. “Yes, well, that’s not exactly how I would’ve put it but I do believe this alliance will serve both of our purposes nonetheless,” Giles replied with his patented British reservation.

“On one condition,” Buffy spoke up, crossing her arms with blatant skepticism. “Spike gets complete and total immunity. If I someone so much as point their stake in Spike’s direction, the deals off.”

Giles nodded, agreeing with Buffy’s terms. “I swear Spike’s safety will not be issue,” he promised.

“Good,” Buffy brusquely responded. “So what’s your plan?”

“Well that depends,” the Watcher vaguely stated.

“On what?” Spike guardedly wondered.

Giles turned to the vampire. “Are you certain Damon will seek retaliation?”

Spike scoffed at the question. “I left the stupid sod’s ego shattered and when he gets back to the lair and sees that I’m not there, he’ll figure out where I am. He’s gonna come looking for me.”

Buffy tensed at the news. “Maybe we should just skip town, Spike.”

The vampire firmly shook his head. “He’ll tear the whole of Sunnydale apart just to find us, pet,” he solemnly explained. “We could run off to Timbuktu for all I care but can you honestly tell me that you’ll be able to live with yourself if we do?”

Buffy nibbled on her lower lip. As always, Spike managed to find a way to put things in perspective. And boy was it ever the moral quandary. She could either run off with Spike to live in ignorant bliss or they could stay and fight. As much as she wanted the security of knowing that she wouldn’t lose Spike, she would never be able to look at herself in the mirror if they hightailed it out of there. Buffy just couldn’t leave Sunnydale to endure Damon’s wrath.

With a determined sigh, she nodded. “We have to stay.”

Spike quickly agreed. “It is my mess after all.”

Giles thought it best not to comment on Spike’s last remark. Instead he returned to preparing a plan of action. “How soon do you believe he will attack?”

“The thing with Damon is that the pathetic wanker’s got these delusions of grandeur. He’s got it in that pea sized brain of his that he should’ve been top dog,” he informed them, contempt laced with every word. “His first move is gonna involve movin’ back into the lair. ‘S probably what he’s doin’ right now,” Spike rationalized, staring out the window, gazing at the foreboding black sky.

“And after tonight?” Giles asked uneasily.

“Don’t know. Give it a day or two,” he haphazardly took a guess, smirking devilishly at the memory of Damon’s battered face after their last encounter. “He’s gonna need some time to heal after the severe ass kicking I dealt ‘im. That ponce won’t show his pretty boy face ‘til it’s all healed up. He was always such a bleedin’ narcissist.”

Giles rubbed his chin, contemplating what Spike had just told him. “And you believe he’ll track you to here?”

“He’ll figure out Buffy was taken and if your scents are still as strong as they were when I went into the room, all Damon has to do is follow his nose,” Spike clarified, giving Giles an unimpressed expression. Though there was nothing more that he wanted to do at that very moment than lecture the Watcher on how his little kidnapping had done more harm than good, Spike decided against it. There wasn’t time for squabbling.

“I see,” the Watcher muttered, picking up on Spike’s legitimate exasperation. Perhaps the plan to save Buffy from the lair had not been completely thought out.

Spike exhaled noisily. “Look, Rupes. Gettin’ me out of the picture isn’t the only thing Damon’s gonna set his mind to. He’s gonna want to one up me. Upstage me by accomplishin’ things I never got a chance to do. For one thing, he’ll come after the whole lot of you. Once you’re out of the picture, the town will be his.”

Giles didn’t have a doubt in his mind what Spike was telling him was nothing but the truth. The thought of the only border separating the relatively safe part of Sunnydale from its damned counterpart being breached chilled him to the core. It would mean all the hard work and bloodshed of the past five years would have been for nothing. He couldn’t have that. Giles wouldn’t let their efforts die in vain.

“So Damon has the clan, then?” the Watcher asked, his focus returning to task at hand.

Spike snickered at the question. “Yeah. Brainwashed ‘em all right under my nose. The ones he couldn’t convince got their heads ripped off.”

Buffy grimaced at the crude imagery. “But you didn’t take them all on your own,” she stated before remembering the two vampires Spike had always been able to count on. “What happened to Natasha and Vincent?”

Spike gave Buffy a saddened smile. “Had to send ‘em on their way. They’d put up with a lot from me these past few months but playin’ nice with a bunch of humans is more than even I could ask of ‘em.”

“They’ll be okay,” she whispered reassuringly.

Spike nodded. “I know,” he mumbled. “And yeah, I had my vamps backin’ me up but Damon simply outnumbered us.”

“Yet with a group that large, he will need time to organize, develop some form of strategy. It might delay him enough for us to be prepared for when he finally does attack,” Giles rationalized, his outlook a little too positive.

Buffy’s brow crinkled suddenly as she realized there might be a glitch in all their planning. “Giles, what if Spike’s super invincibility wears off by the time Damon shows up?” she inquired, clearly concerned.

The Watcher took a moment to reflect upon the question. “There may be a spell…”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be short one vamp before this fight even starts,” Spike threatened.

Giles released a surrendering sigh. “Alright,” he caved, knowing there wasn’t anything he could do to convince the vampire. “Though your advanced strength would have put us at a much greater advantage.”

“Just gonna have to suck it up, Watcher,” Spike sourly remarked.

“We must still prepare,” Giles informed them, his own eyes directed toward the window, scanning the dark night sky. “You’re certain that we have at least tonight as a reprieve?”

“Believe me, Rupes. The tosser’s got a lot of things on his plate right now,” Spike assured. “It’ll take ‘im most of the night just to set up camp at the old lair.”

“Right, then. I’ll inform the others,” the Watcher firmly responded to Spike’s guarantee.

“Just one last thing,” Buffy chimed in again. “Won’t everyone freak because Spike suddenly switched sides? I mean, look at how you guys nearly blew a gasket today,” she asked worriedly. Giles had promised Spike wouldn’t get hurt. She just wanted to make sure he kept his word.

“Not many people have actually seen you in person, Spike. Rumors might have spread about you how you look but no one other than those of us here today will know who you truly are,” Giles rationalized, trying to come up with some fake identity for the vampire. “Perhaps we can claim that you’re a drifter who came into town about the same time as Buffy was rescued. It would explain your sudden appearance.”

Spike nodded, agreeing with the story the Watcher was fabricating. “Lemme guess. I’m gonna go by William instead of Spike, yeah?”

Giles shrugged. “Better to choose a name you will still respond to.”

“Yeah, alright, sure. Anything else? Maybe a collar?” Spike bitterly inquired.

“You will drink bagged pig’s blood,” Giles unyieldingly decided. “You can no longer continue…uh…biting Buffy.”

“The hell I will!” Spike ardently refused. “That’s none of your bloody business, nor anybody else’s.”

“The new bite marks on her neck will only bring up more questions,” Giles explained, attempting to reason with an enraged Spike. “We cannot have any suspicions arise concerning either of you.”

Spike grumbled under his breath. It was bad enough he was giving up every last ounce of evil in his body to side with these humans. Now he couldn’t even share something with Buffy that he knew both of them enjoyed. Ordering a vamp not to bite is like forbidding sex. It’s unnatural.

“Fine, Rupert. I’ll abide by your terms,” he grudgingly conceded before mumbling. “I must be crazy.”

“Excellent,” Giles good naturedly replied. If this worked, Sunnydale could finally be free. “We’ll reconvene here at 10 a.m. It should give the both of you enough time to rest. Good night.”

Giles darted out of the room, no doubt on a mission to inform everyone of the big powwow planned for the next morning.

A low groan escaped Spike’s lips. “Why do I feel like I just signed my life away to the devil?”

Buffy chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re just cranky because this is gonna ruin your Big Bad image.”

“I’m still bad!” Spike ardently defended. “Still a vampire here, ya know.”

Buffy gave him a warm smile. “You’re more than just your run of the mill vamp, Spike.”

“I’m only doin’ this because of you, luv. Got me by the short hairs, you do,” he whispered. “Love you so much.”

Buffy responded by placing a gentle kiss on his cool lips. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed,” she suggested with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

Spike smirked, thinking along the exact same lines. “Lead the way pet.”



********


Buffy closed the bedroom door behind them, cautious to turn the lock. She had led Spike upstairs, to the room she had woken up in that morning. For all intents and purposes, it was her room now and she wouldn’t be able to sleep without having Spike in the bed with her. However, before either of them called it a night, Buffy had a few other activities in mind. She double checked the lock.

Spike walked around the room, shedding his duster as he grimaced at the flowery décor. What he wouldn’t give to be back at the lair, sharing his giant, black satin love nest with Buffy again. Instead he was going to have to contend with this cotton travesty of a bed. Guess he would survive, so long as he had girl there with him.

Glancing over at Buffy, who was going through a bag of provisions Willow had given her, he watched as she pulled out a brush and began to comb her long, golden hair. It never ceased to amaze him how she could mesmerize him with the simplest, most mundane of acts. Watching her blond locks shimmer in the sparse lamp light, Spike felt a maelstrom of emotions stir within him.

Despite his new found invincibility, Spike felt emotionally drained. Losing his clan, having to say goodbye to his friends, being forced to chum up to the same humans who had spent days torturing him had all been contributors to his exhaustion. Yet what was affecting him the most was the memory finding that empty, trashed room with Buffy no where in sight. That morning alone had taken centuries off his immortal life.

“Spike?” Buffy called to him, worried by his silence.

The vampire suddenly found himself with Buffy in his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Hey, luv,” he wearily rasped.

Buffy knew something was up with him. “What’s wrong?” she worriedly asked.

Spike turned his eyes away from Buffy’s concerned gaze. “Just thinkin’ about how I almost lost you, pet,” he desolately explained. “When I couldn’t find you, I thought Damon had made good on his promise and taken you away from me.”

Buffy gently cupped his face, guiding his line of sight to lock with hers. “He didn’t get me, Spike. I’m here. You found me,” she softly reassured him, kissing him tenderly on the lips. “I love you.”

Spike shivered at her words. “Love you so much, Buffy,” he whispered against her lips, before pulling away to longingly gaze into her hazel eyes. “I’m sorry I ever hurt you.”

“I know,” she said, a warm smile gracing her lips. “And I’m sorry I never told you,” she sadly added.

“I know,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. His tongue carefully glided into her mouth, deepening the chaste kiss.

Buffy could feel his hands traveling from her waist, grazing her stomach as he palmed her breast, his thumb lazily stoking her clothed nipple. Moaning, she arched toward his caress as her tongue dueled with his. Her hand moved of its own volition, snaking its way between their bodies to settle on Spike’s belt buckle. Pulling away, panting for air, Buffy gazed into Spike’s lust glazed eyes. She gave him a mischievous grin, gently pushing him until the back of his knees hit the bed.

Spike gave her his own patented smirk as she forced him to sink down onto the mattress. Leaning back on his arms, he hungrily stared up at her. He couldn’t wait to see what she would do next.

Licking her lips, Buffy straddled Spike’s lap. Smashing her lips back onto his, her hands flew back to the belt buckle, tugging on it until it came undone. She heard Spike groan as she shifted in his lap, brushing up against the erection still encased in his jeans. Motivated by the sounds he was making, Buffy slowly lowered his zipper, freeing his engorged cock. Spike hissed into her mouth as her hot hand gripped his cool shaft. Breaking the kiss, the vampire’s head flew back in ecstasy when she began to stroke him with just the right amount of pressure.

“Buffy…ahhh…pet…so good…” he babbled, his sapphire eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head.

It was definitely a reversal of roles. It had always been Spike who had either initiated or taken the lead in their love making. Well, except technically for that one time at the Bronze. She might have instigated the exhibitionist sex but he had still been her Master at the time. Now, things were different. Spike didn’t own her and he couldn’t control her. And by the looks of it, she was the one with the power now.

With a new sense of womanly pride, Buffy released her hold of Spike. She had to stifle a laugh when his head immediately snapped back up, giving her a longingly befuddled look.

“Luv…” he groaned, bucking his hips with the hopes it would entice her to continue with the handjob.

Buffy didn’t reply. Instead, she slipped her hands under his black shirt, making a scorching trail up his alabaster chest as she pulled the unwanted garment from his body. She bent down to suck his earlobe into her mouth, pushing his jeans down his legs as she nibbled on the soft piece of flesh.

Spike sucked in an unneeded breath. Buffy’s sudden take charge attitude was really turning him on. Kicking off his boots and black denim jeans, the vampire started to undress the golden beauty in his lap.

Buffy swatted his hands away, getting up from off his lap. “Ah, ah, ah,” she teased. “No touching.”

“Buffy…Get back here, luv,” Spike huskily demanded.

Buffy stubbornly kept her distance, her eyes fixated on his straining cock. She shook her head in refusal.

“D’ya mind at least sheddin’ a few layers then, pet? Feelin’ like a piece of meat over here,” he grumbled as his desire filled eyes scanned her body. Smelling her arousal but not being buried in her searing heat was driving him completely nuts.

Buffy gave him another impish smile as she pulled her shirt over her head. Revealing her black laced bra to him, Buffy’s hand slowly made its way to the top button of her blue jeans. They abruptly stalled there, unmoving.

“Touch yourself,” she ordered him.

Spike’s eyes bugged out. “Huh?”

“If you want me to take off my pants, touch yourself,” she clarified, the sides of her mouth curling into a sinister grin.

Spike moaned at her words. Buffy wanted to look on as he wanked off while she undressed. His cock twitched at the thought. If it were possible, Spike felt himself get even harder. Wrapping his hand around his pulsating dick, he gave himself one good stroke.

Buffy licked her lips as she unfastened and slipped off her pants. Spike pumped his cock again as he stared yearningly at Buffy, clad only in her lace bra and thong. He picked up the pace when he watched Buffy’s hand travel up to rest on the valley between her breasts.

“Do you want me to take off my bra, Spike?” she coyly asked, running her fingertips over her cleavage.

Spike moaned, nodding dumbly with his eyes locked on her.

Buffy unsnapped the clasp to her black bra, letting it slide down her arms. She giggled, seeing Spike fixedly observe the progression of her bra to the floor. She sobered when his now nearly black eyes returned to her almost completely nude body. Making sure Spike was watching Buffy brushed her fingers lightly over one of her puckering nipples. The involuntary moan that escaped Spike’s lips was the exact reaction she had been anticipating. She loved the fact that he was eating out of the palm of her hand.

Lowering the said hand to twirl her pinky tentatively around her thong strap, Buffy stared innocently at Spike as he continued to pull on his cock, using his thumb to brush the slit, spreading around the dollop of precum glistening on the tip. Noticing the mixed expression of pleasure and pain contorting his face, Buffy knew she had him where she wanted him. She could see he was getting desperate.

“You want me to take this off?” she demurely asked, tugging on the tiny piece of black lace.

“Pet…” Spike wordlessly beseeched. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“Stop touching yourself. Put your hands on your head,” she gave her second order, loving the bewildered look on his face.

Grudgingly, Spike let go of his aching dick, scowling at Buffy as the abandoned member lay slick and red against his stomach. ‘This better be worth it,’ he thought as he diligently placed his hands on his platinum head.

Silently Buffy took off her thong, bending over as she slipped the scrap of fragment down her legs, giving Spike a decent view of her bare ass. ‘Let’s see if he passes the test,’ she thought wickedly.

Captivated by the image before him, Spike unconsciously took his hands off his head, allowing them to instinctively wrap back around his angry cock. Yet, before he was given a chance to return to jerking himself off, Buffy’s voice broke through the fog of desire clouding his mind.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” she angrily asked, her voice taking on a tone that sounded very familiar to those he had once used on her right after she had been brought to the lair.

Spike froze, staring at her with a mixture of awe and shock. She wanted to dominate him, in the fullest sense. Give him a bit of his own medicine. Spike had the sudden urge to forgo the games and just fuck Buffy for all her life was worth. He wouldn’t though. He was interested to see how this little scenario would play out. Spike wanted to see his girl give it to him good.

With a smirk, Spike dropped his dick like it was on fire, placing his hands complacently back on his head.

“Good boy,” Buffy patronized, taking a few steps closer to the bed.

Kneeling on the floor in front of him, she rested her hands on his knees, glancing up at him innocently. She smiled when she saw his jaw twitch, knowing that she was torturing him. Lazily she ran her hands up his thighs, loving the way they quivered as she reached their apex. Locking her eyes with his, Buffy lowered her face gradually to Spike’s lap.

The vampire began to pant as she neared the area he needed her so desperately to touch. Spike growled when she ignored his saluting member and instead kissed his inner thigh. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been through this sort of agony. Beyond the brink of frustration, Spike tried to shift his hips so that Buffy might take a hint. Instead, unfortunately for him, she pulled away.

“If you’re not a good boy, you won’t get a treat,” she condescendingly scolded.

“For the love of God Buffy touch my cock!” Spike snarled, feeling like an absolute ponce with his hands on his head.

Giving him a pout, she pulled back further. “I don’t like the way you asked.”

Spike was on the verge of either throttling her or fucking her brains out. Utterly exasperated, he gave into Buffy, his one last shred of dignity vanishing. “Please, Buffy! I can’t take much more of this. You gotta touch me. Please!”

Satisfied with his response, Buffy gently gripped his erection, languidly pumping her hand up and down. Leaning forward, she swiped the oozing tip of his cock with her tongue. The moan that emitted from Spike’s mouth had been the deepest and loudest she had ever heard. It only motivated her further. Wrapping her lips around the head, Buffy gave it one good suck before pulling back.

She noticed Spike’s hands begin to slip from his head. “Hey, hands back on head, Mister,” she cheekily ordered.

“C’mon luv,” he whined, wanting nothing more than to lace his fingers through her golden locks.

“Do you want me to stop?” Buffy asked, feigning an air of seriousness.

His hands shot back up to their rightful spot before she even finished the sentence. “Didn’t think so,” she cheekily remarked before engulfing Spike’s cock with her hot, moist cavern of a mouth.

“Christ!” Spike sputtered.

Buffy moved up and down his shaft, her teeth purposely scraping its underside with every descent.

“Buffy…ahhh…yeah…burnin’ me…fuck…” Spike babbled as she sucked him off.

After a few more repetitions, Buffy finally took in as much of his cock as she could before taking in a deep nasal breath and pushing him deep into the back her throat. She swallowed twice and then pulled back.

“Fuck!” Spike hollered, hips bucking frantically as he came.

Buffy latched onto his erupting cock, drinking down as much of the cool milky fluid as she could. Finished, she licked her lips, which were formed into a pleased grin.

With a sated expression plastered on his face, Spike collapse back onto the bed, his hands still firmly placed on the top of his head. Buffy nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked down at him. She was worried that she’d worn him out.

Her fears were quelled when a raspy rumble hit her ears. “Can I take my hand from my head now, luv?”

Buffy shook her head. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Spike eyed her suspiciously, scooting up until his legs didn’t hang over the mattress anymore. Kicking the blankets off the bed while tucking his hands behind his head, Spike goaded her on with a single leer. The cocky smirk tugging at his lips was enough to make her continue on with their little game.

Buffy returned the smirk. It wouldn’t be long before he was begging her to get him off again. Silently, she made her way over to the bed and straddled his thighs, ensuring that she did not brush up against his semi-erect dick. Spike watched her carefully, not wanting to be caught off guard. Seeing that her hand was traveling in a downward direction but heading no where near his cock, Spike realized that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be ready for Buffy’s next move. The anticipation alone was making him hard. He was going to watch out for these little games of hers. She seemed to have a knack for driving him out of his mind. After all, a vamp can only have so much will power.

Spike’s cerulean eyes widened in surprise as Buffy’s hand slid to her pussy, two fingers slipping between her honeyed folds to brush against her clit. The smell of her renewed arousal made his mouth water. She arched her back, holding onto his shin as she leaned back on her arm. Though completely hypnotized by her undulating hips, Spike could feel himself grow hard as nails again. Just watching her long blond hair sway could give him one hell of a stiffy.

Stilling her actions, Buffy smiled broadly at the site of Spike’s rock hard cock. “Playtime,” she huskily giggled, grasping his engorged member as she slid up Spike’s thighs until their sexes nearly met.

“Ahh…Buffy…” Spike rasped out as she stroked him.

Buffy rose up on her knees, pressing Spike’s cock to her damp pussy, sliding the tip along her glistening folds. Spike moaned loudly as she used him in such an erotic manner. A bolt of electricity shot through the both of them when Buffy firmly pressed the head of his shaft against her clit.

“Oh God,” Buffy gutturally moaned.

Spike hazily watched on as Buffy used him as her own personal sex toy. The spicy scent of her pussy was getting stronger with each passing second. He grunted as she started to slide her slick folds up and down his length, shying away from permitting him into her velvet quim.

“Buffy…I need…I have to be in you, luv,” he muttered, desperation straining his voice.

Obliging him in his request, Buffy finally allowed herself to sink down on his cock, slowly taking him in inch by inch. Spike began to pull on his own hair to stop himself from reaching out to hold her hips. He wasn’t going to be the one to stop the game.

He gritted his teeth as she tightly squeezed him for all he was worth. Spike could only pray that Buffy got off soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

“Spike…Spike…ugnhhhh…”she rambled, riding the vamp hard. “Touch me. Touch me, Spike!” she ordered frantically.

It was an invitation to touch her. Forgetting that he was supposed to be keeping his hands on his head, he reached out for her, gripping her thigh with one hand while the other went to her pussy, madly stroking and rubbing the engorged nub. Feeling her pussy suddenly tighten around him, Spike began to thrust up in time with every frenzied roll of her hips. He could sense that she was getting close, empowered muscles working within her that he never knew she had, threatening to pop him like warm champagne.

In one swift move, Spike removed his hand from her clit to grab her waist in a bruising grip, sitting up to latch his mouth onto her hardened nipple. The change in angle made Buffy keen in pleasure as he suckled on her breast.

Letting go of the distended pink bud, Spike vamped out. Driving his cock hard into Buffy twice for good measure, he bit down into the soft flesh of her breast.

“Spike!!!” she screamed, feeling herself fly over the edge as he drank from her.

Releasing his fangs from her breast, Spike gasped loudly as Buffy strangled his cock with her inner silken walls as she came. Pumping up into Buffy’s convulsing pussy for one last time, Spike came with a roar.

“Buffy!!!” he hollered, flopping back down onto the bed, completely spent.

After a few dazed moments, Spike glimpsed down to see an exhausted Buffy sprawled on his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled them over, slipping out of her in the process. Buffy whimpered at the loss.

“I think you broke me,” Buffy moaned groggily.

Spike chuckled. “Shouldn’t point fingers, luv. Feelin’ a bit damaged myself,” he hoarsely mumbled, running a hand tenderly over Buffy flushed cheek.

Buffy glanced down at her chest and she couldn’t help but grin at the two little puncture wounds marring her breast. “Guess you found a loophole in Giles’s ‘no biting’ clause,” she joked.

Spike smirked, leaning down to lap at the blood trickling down her breast. Trailing his tongue back up along her chest, he licked his mark on her neck. “Can’t get in trouble for these,” he whispered into her ear. “Plus if anybody did see ‘em, I’d tear ‘em limb from limb,” he said with a menacing growl.

Buffy giggled at his possessiveness, loving the pleasure he was conjuring up simply by touching the marks on her neck. She was happy they had found a solution to the no biting problem. She liked it too much to give it up. God, just look how loud she had screamed when Spike had bitten her.

Realization suddenly hit Buffy. “Oh my God,” she nervously freaked, pushing Spike off of her.

Spike gave her a confused frown. “What’s gotten into you, pet?”

“Spike, we were really loud,” she worriedly explained, her blush exhibiting her mortification. “We probably woke the whole house up.”

Spike snorted, unaffected by the news. “Guess that’ll answer a few of their questions as to why a girl like you would wanna shack up with a vamp like me,” he mirthfully commented.

Buffy lightly smacked him on the chest. “Do you know how embarrassing that is?” she indignantly inquired, giving him an unimpressed glare. Her eyes widened with sudden fear. “Oh my God, what if Cordy heard?”

Spike pulled a reluctant Buffy back into his arms. “Maybe she’ll get it through that thick skull of hers that we do love each other. We can’t walk on egg shells around her, pet, just because she doesn’t except us.”

“But I shouldn’t be rubbing it in her face either, Spike” Buffy guiltily stated.

Spike gave her a curious lift of the brow. “So what now? We stop shaggin’ for the rest of our stay here just ‘cos you don’t wanna make people uncomfortable?” he asked doubtfully.

“I never said that,” Buffy firmly denied. “Maybe you can wear a gag,” she casually suggested.

“Me?” Spike sputtered. “You were the one givin’ a banshee a run for her money just a few minutes ago,” he defensively accused.

“Uhhh…We both wear gags?” she uncertainly suggested.

Spike purred at the idea. “Sounds like a fun game, pet,” he huskily said as he returned to sucking the old wounds on her neck.

Sparks flew in front of Buffy’s eyes as they made use of their newfound stamina, rejuvenating their arousals. It wouldn’t be long before Buffy was screaming the vampire’s name again.



*******

 

Chapter Thirty: Never Leave Me



Spike, Buffy and Giles stood around the centre table in the basement, staring fixedly at the map spread out before them. On it was a layout of the small neighborhood that had not yet fallen into the hands of the vampires, the last bit of Sunnydale that they would forfeit their lives, if necessary, to defend. It was also this insignificant residential area of town that would be under attack at sunset.

On the map were markings of tactics and fortifications, centralizing mainly on the headquarters, where the majority of the fighting human residents of Sunnydale would be localized. Assuming that Damon would try to destroy the last obstacle between him and complete ownership of Sunnydale at its source, the plan was to reinforce the central house as best as possible, while employing fighters outside of the fortifications to be the offensive element to the mainly defensive strategy. The basement was once again a flurry of activity in preparation for these defensive measures.

Buffy’s mind wandered as her gaze settled on the various people, mostly strangers, working diligently at their allotted tasks. She could see Oz and a few others at one table, quietly preparing a stock pile of crosses with the bottom end sharpened into a stake. Xander was at the other end of the room, by the weapons cage, checking and rechecking the variety of cross-bows, flame throwers and tasers, ensuring each was functioning at its full capacity. Willow was again preparing more of those now infamous Sun Bombs. Cordy was helping her.

Buffy would throw the occasional fleeting glance in the brunette’s direction, hoping that Cordy would be looking back at her with the same need to reconcile as was visible in her own green depths. Yet every time her gaze was cast in that general direction, she could never seem to make eye contact with Cordelia. Buffy figured that Cordy must still be mad at her since she was still avoiding her. She sighed and turned her attention elsewhere, wishing she could just resolve things with her best friend.

Other people were on computers and telephones, communicating to those in the immediate area, relaying orders and organizing some people into different safe houses. The plan was to place children, the elderly, the sick and women who wished not to fight in various houses on the edge of the town, ready to escape in the unfortunate event that the war was lost. Many had already been placed and were preparing for nightfall.

Buffy could also hear the stomping footsteps of people upstairs, the rest of the house no doubt in the same frenzied mode of preparation as that seen in the basement. Giles had told her of the measures to keep the house safe. Trenches had been dug early that morning with large wooden spikes jutting out from them with the purpose of impaling any vampire that was foolish enough to approach the house. She had also heard that the only priest left in Sunnydale was currently in the upstairs bathrooms, blessing bathtubs full of water, which were then to be collected into large jugs. Others, led by a few nurses and doctors, were setting up first aid stations to deal with the great number of wounded fighters expected to retreat back into the house. Food, water, bandages and other provisions were also being laid out in the main foyer, to be given to people before they headed out onto the battlefield.

At first Buffy had thought all this to be rather excessive, but she realized that it wasn’t. Even if most of these weapons were never used, or if the pits failed to keep out vampires or if they completely failed and Damon succeeded in taking total control of Sunnydale, at least these preparations made everyone feel like they were contributing, so that when all was said and done, each and every person could say that they had done their best. These tasks which Buffy might have deemed unnecessary were what were keeping people going, what gave them hope.

Snapping out of her daze, her attention returned back to the conversation transpiring between Spike and Giles as the Watcher pointed to the map. “We should expect Damon to come up from the eastern end of the street, heading in our direction from the border as night falls,” the older man rationalized, his finger trailing along the map. “We’ll meet him a few yards up road from the house.”

Spike nodded as he listened to the Watcher’s plan.

Buffy tried to concentrate but was once again distracted by the busy people bustling around her, oblivious to the fact that there was a vampire in their midst. No one had questioned Giles explanation of Spike’s sudden appearance. Many were actually quite welcoming, grateful that “William”, the expert rogue demon hunter, had arrived to help them in what may be the definitive battle to take back their town.

Giles was careful to limit Spike to the basement, unsure of when his invincibility, and associated immunity from sunlight, would dissipate within the next twenty four hours. The last thing any of them wanted to explain was why Spike was suddenly bursting into flames whenever he walked past one of the opened windows upstairs. So basically, Spike was to remain in the basement until the sun was set safely below the horizon.

Buffy returned her gaze in Cordelia’s general direction, only to be disappointed again by the brunette’s persistent cold shoulder. What was it going to take to get Cordy to even acknowledge her presence?

“Buffy, what do you think?” Giles asked, hoping to get the girls opinion.

“Huh? Wh…? Oh, sorry I kind of spaced out,” she embarrassingly confessed.

Spike had noticed the subtle glimpses his girl had been sending the Cheerleader all day long, but he had chosen not to comment on them. There wasn’t much he could say. Cordelia was breaking Buffy’s heart with every passing second as she continued to ignore her supposed best friend. It made Spike want to wring the skinny bird’s neck.

“‘bout the plan, luv. Got any other ideas we could throw into the mix?” Spike asked, supplementing the part of the conversation she had missed.

Buffy returned her attention back to the map, her eyes attentively scanning the schematic presented on the table top in front of her. For the first time Buffy realized that all they really had going for them was a strong defensive with a pretty weak offensive. Everything just seemed too concentrated in one area. They might as well paint a bull’s eye on the house. She knew it was important to protect your home base, but if Buffy had learned one thing from the few history courses she had taken in the past two years it was that wars were always won with one smart, decisive offensive tactic.

‘We just need to figure out what’s gonna work here,’ she reflected as her eyes skimmed over the map, finally landing upon the outlines to a house right across the street from the headquarters. ‘Ah hah!’

Buffy smiled broadly as Giles and Spike waited for her suggestion, never expecting to hear the words she was about to say. “Actually, I think I know how we’re going to win this.”



********

“Sheer brilliance!” Giles enthusiastically exclaimed.

“Now why in the hell didn’t I think of that?” Spike asked, kicking himself for being so blind. It was a wonder that he had ever landed the whole Master of a clan gig when he couldn’t even put together the most obvious battle plan. “Good on you, luv.”

“Thanks,” Buffy replied humbly.

Giles warmly smiled at the blond girl beside him. “Pity that you were never called as a slayer. I have a feeling you would’ve broken the mold.”

Buffy shrugged, not sure how to reply to the Giles’s compliment.

“We set then?” Spike brusquely asked, not liking the Watcher’s comment about how Buffy would’ve been a great slayer. He wasn’t arguing that his Buffy wasn’t one hell of a woman. It was just that if she had been Chosen, she would’ve shared the same fate as all the others, namely that of a premature death; perhaps even by his own hands. And it was that last thought scared him to no end.

Giles quickly nodded, as though snapped out of his bittersweet reminiscing. “Yes, of course. I’ll simply relay the changes to everyone.”

Giles called for everyone’s attention and immediately went about explaining the newly devised plan. The necessary orders to seeing this strategy to fruition were also doled out. Once he had finished speaking, everyone in the basement set off to accomplish their assigned tasks, racing about at a more frenzied pace than they had before Giles’s had laid out his latest instructions.

Anyone who wasn’t doing any last minute prep work had been ordered to enjoy the rest of their day. Even with the revised plan, no one knew for certain if this day would still be their last.

The basement became less crowded as more people headed out to spend the afternoon in the sunlight with their loved ones. Buffy herself spotted Cordy head up the stairs. She followed after the brunette, unbeknownst to either Spike or Giles since they were too consumed in their hushed argument over the vampire’s placement in the battle.

Jogging up the steps, Buffy stopped when she reached the main level, her hazel eyes locked on Cordelia as she talked to Xander by the front entrance. She watched as the brunettes exchanged a few pleasant words before breaking apart. With Xander no where in sight, Buffy built up enough courage to approach Cordelia.

“Cordy,” she tentatively called out, quickening her steps as she followed after her best friend.

Cordelia stopped before she stepped into the kitchen. She didn’t turn around to face her friend, though. She simply stood there, hand lightly placed on the kitchen door. “Buffy,” she curtly answered, her voice tense with restrained emotion.

Buffy sighed disappointedly when Cordy refused to look at her. “Guess that answers the question as to whether or not you still hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Cordelia admitted dejectedly to the wooden door in front of her.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Buffy sadly muttered.

“I’m not,” Cordy firmly repeated, turning her head slightly to glance over her shoulder at Buffy. “I’m mad as hell and I think you’re making the biggest mistake of your life, but I don’t hate you. I could never hate you,” she dismally finished, her teary red eyes reverting back to the kitchen door.

“Why can’t you just trust me, huh?” Buffy asked her in frustration. “You know me Cordy, more than anyone else. You know I wouldn’t just blurt out that I’m in love with someone unless I actually meant it. And you must know that I wouldn’t have declared it the way I did unless I knew he loved me back.”

Cordy spun around, gaping at her friend with unconcealed exasperation. “Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome, Buffy?” Cordelia finally posed the question that no one dared to ask. “Spike kidnapped you, kept you locked away from the rest of the world. Hell, up until a few days ago I thought you were dead,” her voice broke slightly as her grief and disappointment threatened to shatter through her so far composed countenance. “And now I’m supposed to believe he somehow didn’t brainwash you into thinking that you love him?”

Buffy did not allow herself to get upset. “You weren’t there,” she calmly answered. “You don’t know what we’ve been through.”

“It doesn’t—“

Buffy held up her hand as she interrupted Cordelia. “No, it does matter,” she determinedly stated. “I’m not going justify or defend my relationship with Spike. I wasn’t expecting a blessing and I knew I probably wasn’t going to get your acceptance either. All I was asking for was for you to trust me. I only wanted you to give me the benefit of the doubt and to keep an open mind when it came to me and Spike. I guess I was asking too much.”

“Buffy…” Cordelia began, not sure what she wanted to say.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight, Cordy, but I want you to know that I still think of you as my best friend,” Buffy confessed sadly. “I just hope you feel the same way too.”

Not wanting to hear her possibly former best friend’s response, the blond ran from the main hallway and headed up the stairs, leaving a stunned Cordy in her wake.

Needing a place to escape in case Cordelia had decided to come after her, Buffy flew into the upstairs bathroom, relieved to find it empty and priest free. Spotting the large shower stall in the corner of the bathroom across from the giant tub, she figured might as well wash up while she hid like a coward. She began to undress and turned on the hot water. Buffy stepped beneath the steaming spray, enjoying the distracting sting against her flesh. It didn’t take long though, for the tears to finally flow, mingling with the water beading on her face.



********


Out of the corner of his eye, Spike watched as Buffy followed Cordelia out of the basement. He decided to act as though he hadn’t noticed her departure. Maybe a little confrontation between the estranged women wouldn’t hurt. Buffy hadn’t brought it up again since last night but Spike knew that this tiff with the ex-cheerleader was taking a toll on her. He could only hope that things were resolved before Damon came a knocking. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by the time sunset rolled around.

The basement was now empty save for him and Giles, who at the moment was arguing with him about where he should be placed in the grand scheme of the battle. Spike was determined to head the moderately sized regiment of fighters that were to be sent out to face Damon and his legions of vampires. The Watcher didn’t think anyone would follow Spike’s lead since most saw him as a virtual stranger. As for the other better informed individuals who knew his true identity, he doubted that they would willingly take orders from a vampire. Giles had suggested that he assist Buffy at the main house. As expected, Spike had refused.

“Look, mate,” Spike growled. “If you’re frettin’ that nobody’s gonna take my lead, just wait ‘til we get out there. They’ll be fallin’ in line and takin’ orders the second they lay eyes on the army that that pillock’s gonna bring with ‘im.”

Giles groaned. “Fine, have it your way. Just don’t get us all killed.”

“Not plannin’ on it,” Spike retorted with all honesty. “Plus, with Buffy’s plan, we’d be right arses to fuck things up tonight,” he added, careful to keep his tone from sounding overconfident. He didn’t want to jinx himself before the sun had even set.

“Yes, Buffy does seem to have a flair for strategy,” the Watcher demurely agreed. “It’s no surprise really, seeing as how she’s such a quick witted young woman.”

Spike stared at Giles suspiciously at his last remark. “If you have somethin’ to say, Watcher, go right ahead.”

“Assuming we defeat Damon, what then?” Giles asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Confusion creased the vampire’s face. “Don’t know. Haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” he hesitantly answered. “What’s with the sudden interest into my future?”

“I don’t give a piss about what happens to you Spike. My concern lies with Buffy,” Giles callously clarified. “What future do you see for yourself and Buffy?”

Spike knew what the Watcher was doing, casting doubts into his relationship with Buffy. The vampire hated to admit it but it was working. “We’ll work somethin’ out,” he snarled through his teeth.

“I do hope so,” Giles said. “I’d hate to see you deprive such an intelligent and talented woman like Buffy from the life she deserves.”

“I’d never do that to her. I love her,” Spike defended, feeling as though Giles was backing him into a corner.

“I’m not denying that. Nor will I deny that she loves you in return,” the Watcher conceded. “However, there will come a day when Buffy will realize that sometimes love is simply not enough.”

Speechless, Spike watched as Giles silently went up a few wooden steps and out the basement door.

Spike had never truly considered his future with Buffy. He’d always assumed they’d be together and that after Damon was out of the picture they could finally settle down and figure things out. Yet Giles had somehow managed to spark a flame of insecurity regarding his role in Buffy’s life. Would he hold her back from the life she had always wanted? Would she grow tired of him? Would she miss her old life? Would she leave him? The last thought almost winded him, even though he didn’t breathe.

Rubbing his face roughly with his hand, Spike scoffed angrily as he paced the basement. The Watcher had done this on purpose, probably taking advantage of his last chance to exact a bit of revenge before he’d have to face the daunting uncertainties of war. It wasn’t enough to distract Spike from doing what he had to do to go up against Damon, but the fear would forever remain cemented in the back of his mind. The fear, that now Buffy had at last admitted her love to him, she might eventually want something he could never give her—a normal life.

Spike stopped pacing, having the desperate urge to suddenly find Buffy. He needed to hear her say she loved him. He needed to know that Giles was wrong and that Buffy would never leave him. Even if he was lying to himself, Spike needed to feel like he and Buffy were forever.

Taking two steps at a time, Spike darted up the stairs. He didn’t care if he burst into flames once he reached the sunny main hallway. To hell with everyone if his imperviousness to sunlight was gone and he unwittingly revealed to the whole lot of demon hunting humans that he was a vampire. He just wanted Buffy.

Spike’s eyes frantically searched the main level. His skin tingled and began to redden from the inlet sunlight streaming in through the large open windows. Honing his senses, the vampire caught whiff of Buffy’s scent, instantly following it up the second set of stairs to the bathroom. The door was locked, but with an assertive twist, the knob gave way and Spike was inside.

Noticing the outline of her shadowed figure against the billow of steam within the shower stall, Spike stripped off every article of clothing. He needed to touch her, to feel her skin against his own, to be inside of her again. He wanted so desperately to forget his worries, to have Buffy show him that their love was eternal. Spike needed to get lost in her.

Pulling the stall door open, his urgency faded away when the steam cleared and Buffy came into sight. She stood there, her body heaving with muffled sobs as she cried into her hands. The skin on her shoulders was reddened from prolonged exposure to the hot water streaming from overhead. Her hair was damp and matted to one side of her face. She looked completely devastated.

Stepping into the stall, Spike slowly approached her, allowing his cool hand to lightly settle on her shoulder, letting her know he was there.

Buffy didn’t jump in surprise or order him to leave her alone. She simply turned around and buried her face in the crook of Spike’s neck.

“I take it things didn’t go well with Miss Prom Queen, yeah?” he softly inquired, wrapping his arms around the lithe body pressed against him.

Buffy shook her head. “No,” she croaked.

Spike kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “‘S alright, luv. You’ll always have me,” he said reassuringly, though hoping she wouldn’t pick up on the uncertainty in his voice. When she looked up at him with a cheerless smile forced upon her face, Spike was able to push away all his lingering insecurities about future and focus on the present. His girl needed tending to.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up. Anymore time in here and you’re gonna start lookin’ line a prune,” he teased, turning a compliant Buffy around in his arms.

Reaching for a bottle of citrus scented shampoo, Spike squeezed a generous amount into his palm. He proceeded to gently massage it into her golden locks, careful not to hurt her. He heard her sigh and felt her relax under his care. Turning her slowly around again, Spike directed Buffy directly under the shower’s spray, rinsing the shampoo from her hair.

“Cream rinse,” she ordered, the gloomy smile she had been sporting now replaced with an impish grin.

“Bossy chit,” Spike grumbled though he couldn’t hide his own smile, pleased to see the playfulness returned to her green eyes.

Buffy gave him a quick peck on the lips before spinning back around.

Shaking his head, Spike snatched a bottle of conditioner from off the corner shelf, dispensing a tiny amount of cream directly onto her head. Putting away the bottle with his right hand, Spike used his left to comb his fingers through her hair, spreading the cream rinse throughout her blond strands.

Grabbing the soap along the way, Spike’s hand returned to Buffy’s body, sliding the slippery bar across the flesh of her back. He lathered her shoulders and neck, purposely allowing the suds glide down the front of her chest. Putting the soap back its holder, Spike reached around and ran his slick hands up Buffy’s taut stomach. She gasped when he cupped her breasts and hissed when his thumbs flicked across her hardened nipples.

“Spike,” she huskily whispered, arching her back into his chest.

He groaned as her movements caused her ass to press against the erection that had presented itself the moment he had stepped into the shower. That was all it took to get him hard, just simply being around Buffy.

Lowering his mouth to her neck, Spike kissed the wounds there that only he could manipulate. His fingers pinched and rubbed her nipples as he licked and sucked on his bite marks. His hips began to move involuntarily, grinding his cock against the crack of her ass.

“Ughhhh…ahhhh…mmmmm…Spike…” Buffy incoherently uttered.

One of Spike’s hands abandoned one of her breasts, slipping down to her now soaked pussy. Sliding a finger into her folds, he focused on her clit, circling the nubbin with his fingertip. Buffy’s hips started to shift, urging him on his task at pleasuring her.

“Spread your legs out a bit, pet,” Spike instructed, taking his hand from her sex to push her thighs apart.

Buffy did as she was told, eager to get his fingers back to her pussy. Spike was everywhere, surrounding her. She could feel his cock poking her from behind, grazing her very slick entrance. Impatiently, she bent over slightly, hoping he would enter her soon.

Spike’s digits found their way back to their mark, rubbing and pinching her clitoris. Following her lead, Spike bent slightly with her, never letting his rough hand go of her supple breast and never taking his attentive mouth from her neck. He could feel her panting, knowing she was ready.

Abandoning her breast, Spike took hold of his rock solid cock and positioned it at her entrance, sliding into her tight slick passage until his pelvis was pressed right against her ass. He gritted his teeth at the feel of her heat, her velvety inner walls squeezing him for all he was worth. Slowly, he drew back slightly and started to thrust back in. His lust glazed eyes rolled to the back of his head as her moans and whimpers filled the room.

Buffy shifted her hips slightly, trying to get the finger that was administering to her clitoris to stroke faster. Her prompting not only got Spike to vigorously caress the engorged bit of flesh but it also got him to start pounding into her, which caused the bulbous head of his cock to tap against the spongy bundle of nerves within her in just the right way.

“Spike…Spike…ahhhh…” she babbled, feeling an orgasm imminent.

“Buffy,” he growled against her neck, his hips frantically smacking against her ass, her body shaking with the force of his thrusting.

Placing one hand on the wall in front of her to steady herself, Buffy brought her other hand behind her to grab onto Spike’s damp platinum locks, yanking his mouth to the marks on her neck. “Do it,” she desperately urged.

Vamping out, he sank his fangs into the soft flesh of her neck without as much as a second thought.

“Ahhhh…I’m cuming…Spike!” she screamed, climaxing hard.

The dual sensation of her sweet blood flooding his mouth and her pussy clamping down all around his cock pushed him so close to the edge. Ripping his fangs from her neck, his game face melted away as his mouth opened slightly and his eyes closed tightly shut.

Pumping into her a few more times, his eyes shot open when the orgasm finally hit. “Buffy…fuck…Buffy!” he hollered , his whole body convulsing as he shot his cold dead seed into her womb.

She was still panting as Spike came back down from his high, exhaustedly pressing his face against her shoulder. If the vampire had not had his arms wrapped around her, Buffy truly believed she would’ve collapsed by now.

“We better dry up and step out pet. Don’t know how much longer I can keep the both of us standing,” he mumbled, his words reflecting her thoughts.

Nodding in agreement, she suddenly noticed how the water coming from the showerhead was suddenly very cold. Her teeth chattered as she turned off the water and followed Spike out of the stall, grateful for the warm fluffy towel he wrapped around her. Looking over at the mirror, she first noticed Spike’s lack of reflection, which she sometimes forgot about but then spotted the trail of crimson traveling down her collar bone.

“Shit,” she cursed as she pressed her hand to the healing wound on her neck, remembering Giles strict rules about Spike biting her.

“Guess we got a little carried away, huh?” Spike asked, his voice surprisingly filled with melancholy.

Buffy turned her head at the unanticipated sadness in the vampire’s tone. She would’ve expected a smug comment accompanied by his patented smirk but not the misery she could see in his stormy blue eyes. “Spike, what is it?” she asked tenderly.

The vampire shook his head. “Nothin’ really. Just my worries gettin’ the better of me,” he whispered bleakly.

Buffy picked up a towel, threw it over Spike shoulders, and proceeded to pat his chest dry. He had been good enough to take care of her, make her feel better when she was upset. She could do the same for him.

“Nothing is going to happen to me tonight, Spike,” she reassured him. “Damon can’t hurt me. I can take care of myself now.”

Spike nodded but he didn’t say anything. Buffy thought he was worried that she might die in battle. To be honest, the concern had popped into his head once or twice, but Buffy had stationed herself to coordinate the activities inside the house, which was a relatively safer position to be in than on the street with Spike and the rest of the fighters. So, needless to say, he knew the likelihood of Buffy dying or getting hurt in tonight’s battle was slim to none. Well, that was what he told himself, anyway.

He didn’t want to sound like some pathetic sod and admit that he was scared of losing her to something that he couldn’t kill. That he was afraid of losing her to the normal life that he would never be able to provide.

“I know you can, luv,” he rasped, putting on a fake smile to alleviate any doubts she might have left.

“Good,” she obliviously resplied, smiling brightly as she kissed him lightly on the lips. “Let’s get dressed. We still got some time left before sundown,” she giggled with a saucy wink.

Spike couldn’t help but smirk devilishly at her antics. Maybe he should stick to his earlier attitude and be happy with what he had now. He should only concern himself with the uncertainties of the future when they eventually presented themselves. Buffy was with him now and open about her love for him. It was more than he had ever dreamed of from her.

Casting aside all doubts and fears from his mind, Spike scooped Buffy up in his arms. “Bugger the clothes,” he chuckled. “Just gonna have to take them off again, which is time that could be used shaggin’ each other stupid.”

Buffy squealed, giggling as a bare assed Spike flew out the bathroom, his vampire speed taking them down the empty hallway to their room. The door slammed shut behind them, providing them with the privacy to continue on with the fun they had started in the shower.

Unaware of the naked mad dash that had taken place a few minutes earlier, Xander stepped out of his room. He was supposed to meet Cordy at their spot on the front porch but he was running late. Dashing into the hallway, he stopped when he heard the noises coming from the room next door. He didn’t even have to press his ear to the door to hear the all familiar sounds of Spike’s deep moaning and Buffy’s climactic screaming.

“You’ve got to be joking?” he said to himself, staring at the wooden door in disbelief. All last night he had been kept up by their noisy love making and now, at two-thirty in the afternoon, they were at it again. It just didn’t seem fair.

“That’s it,” Xander declared, starting back down the hallway, determination in his every step. “If things don’t work out with Cordy, I’m getting myself a vampire for a girlfriend. Even if it kills me!”


 

Chapter Thirty-One: Save Your Scissors for Someone Else’s Skin


“Mmmmmmmm,” Buffy contentedly mewled as she rested her head on Spike’s chest, relishing how blissfully sore she felt.

The vampire chuckled at her kittenish, post coital behavior. “Feelin’ satisfied are we luv?”

“Hmmmmmmhhmm,” she moaned in response, utterly sated.

Spike gazed down at Buffy with a smug smirk on his face. “Mission accomplished in shaggin’ you stupid then, eh pet?”

“Me no stupid,” she countered in her best Cave Buffy voice, remaining completely motionless, unable to muster the energy to look up at Spike’s face. “Sex with vampire make Buffy tired.”

Spike glanced over at the alarm clock on the bedside table and released an unhappy groan when he read the time. “Well let’s hope you recover quick, luv. The Watcher wants us all downstairs in twenty minutes.”

Buffy still refused to move. “Then you’re just going to have to carry me,” she sulked. “After all, it’s your fault my legs feel like they’re made of jelly.”

“Sounds serious,” he said, feigning concern. “How’s about you stick it out here for the night and I’ll just tell Rupert you couldn’t make it?” he halfheartedly recommended, knowing full well that Buffy would never go along with the suggestion.

As expected, she sat up, glaring at the vampire with a very unimpressed expression on her face. “There’s no way I’m going to sit this out, Spike,” Buffy stubbornly stated. “But nice try,” she added with a smile.

Spike shrugged. He would’ve felt more at ease if Buffy remained in the room for the entirety of the battle, but he knew she would never agree to it and it wasn’t as though he could force her. He wasn’t her Master anymore.

Ironically, the final order he’d given her had been to stay in their room back at the lair the last time he’d had to face off against Damon. And come to think of it, having Buffy locked away had not been at all successful in keeping her safe the first time around. So maybe it would be better to have her out there with him, where he could see her and know for certain she was alright.

With this whole confusing inverse claiming thing they had going for them, Spike knew Buffy could take care of herself with her newfound powers. She always had the fighting skills but now with the extra muscle to back them up, she could most likely take on as many vamps as he could. So keeping an eye on Buffy had really nothing to do with ensuring her safety but was more for his own sanity. He’d probably be so distracted without constant visual proof of her wellbeing that he’d wind up with a stake in the back before the battle even got underway.

“C’mon, luv. We better get some clothes on before the Watcher sends up a search party,” he cajoled as he got out of bed in search of his pants.

Buffy remained unmoving, fidgeting nervously as she watched Spike dress. “Spike?”

“Yeah, pet?” he answered as he slipped on his black tee. He turned to look at her and saw that she was trembling. “Buffy what’s wrong?” he asked, clearly concerned as he sat back down beside her on the bed.

“Do you think we’ll get through this alive?” she asked, unable to hide her sudden pre-game jitters.

Spike gave her a reassuring smile. “What happened to that stubborn confidence I saw a few minutes ago, huh luv?”

“It crumbled when reality finally hit,” she replied meekly.

He sighed despondently. “Don’t know how this is all gonna turn out, pet. I can’t make any promises.”

Buffy lifted her gaze to look into his pensive cobalt eyes. “Lie to me,” she softly insisted.

Wrapping his arms around her, he drew her close, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “By tomorrow morning Damon will be dust, all the vamps will be chased outta town, and Sunnydale will never have any problems with demons ever again,” he told her, his voice somber with the knowledge that what he was telling her was likely to never come true.

“And us? What’s gonna happen to us?” she asked, her hushed voice quivering.

Spike cupped her face with his hand, brushing his thumb lazily over her cheek. “We’ll be made heroes and live out the rest ‘f our merry days in a happily-ever-after fairytale,” he said lovingly, kissing her softly on the forehead.

Buffy stared up at him, her eyes teary, wishing her future could be that of Spike’s melancholy description. “Liar,” she rasped.

“And a bloody awful one at that,” he added, smiling sadly.

“This could be the last time I get to be in your arms,” she sorrowfully stated, burrowing herself deeper into his embrace.

Spike tightened his hold on her small form. “Best we not waste what precious time we have left then with those kinds of thoughts.”

“I’m scared, Spike,” she whispered into his neck, inhaling his scent as she tried to calm her nerves.

“I know, luv,” he muttered against her soft cheek. His hand moved up her right arm, his fingertips skimming along her silken skin until they reached the healed wounds on her neck. With the lightest stroke, he brushed his thumb lazily across the marks, hoping that the touch would have some sort of soothing affect.

Her breath hitched as Spike made contact. He might have thought that reestablishing their connection would comfort her but instead all it did was heighten her need for physical reassurance.

“Kiss me,” she abruptly demanded, her voice strained in urgency as the scent of her arousal filled the air around them.

Spike obliged, pressing his lips softly against hers. He could sense her desperation, her fiery need to savor these last few moments together. Buffy snaked her arms around his neck, rolling herself on top of him. The kiss quickly intensified as lips parted and tongues dueled. Spike gasped, feeling her pebbled nipples rub against his cotton clad chest. An unbidden growl reverberated in his throat as Buffy began to squirm, rubbing her nude body against his restrained erection. As much as he wanted to forget, to lose himself completely in Buffy, Spike knew there wasn’t any time for that sort of luxury.

“Buffy,” he said huskily. “Luv, we need to stop.”

She whimpered slightly. “Tell me you love me,” she begged of him.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “I will always love you.”

“Make me yours, Spike,” Buffy restlessly requested, suddenly baring her neck to him.

Spike froze as his stomach sank. Buffy wanted him to claim her, to reciprocate the claim she had on him.

“What?!” he asked in total shock, looking up at her with a wide, disbelieving stare.

“Claim me, Spike,” she reiterated her request, her voice laced with fear and need.

Spike vigorously shook his head, rolling Buffy off of him as he jumped off the bed. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he agitatedly told her as he paced the small area of floor in the room.

Buffy wrapped the white sheets around her naked frame, feeling the sting of rejection as Spike purposefully distanced himself from her. “I know it’ll bring us closer,” she argued timidly, her eyes unable to meet his. “If we don’t live through this, it might be our last chance.”

“And what if we do live through it?” he asked solemnly. “If I claim you Buffy, I’d be mating you and there would be no going back.”

“I know,” she replied softly.

“Do you?” he asked, an edge of frustration evident in his voice. “We’d be connected forever Buffy, and it wouldn’t be a symbolic union neither.”

“I remember what you said,” she responded boldly, raising her hazel eyes to his. “I know what’s involved, what’s at stake.”

“Yeah? What if I die tonight, luv? What then?” he asked harshly. “Would you survive the grief? Could you go on living the rest of your life like there is a whole piece of you missing?”

Buffy’s momentary confidence cracked at the thought of losing Spike. She bit her lower lip as she fought back the tears. Shaking her head, her gaze returned to her lap.

“I couldn’t do that to you, Buffy. I won’t take the chance,” he firmly stated.

Buffy nodded, knowing he was right. Where had this sudden need to mate with him come from anyway? Was it just the fear of losing Spike that made her long to be with him in every way possible? Maybe she thought that if these were their last moments together, she wanted them to be meaningful. She wanted Spike to leave the room knowing she was his and that no one, not Damon, not Giles, not even Cordy, could take that away from them.

What she hadn’t been expecting was the deer-caught-in-headlights expression on his face. It unnerved her. She wasn’t trying to trap him. Sure, his reasoning had made sense but his reaction was totally uncalled for. He was being such a jerk.

“And after the battle? If we do survive, will you ever make me your mate?” she asked tentatively.

Spike tensed at her question. Though he’d claimed that he was saving her from possible devastation by not mating her, the real reason for his refusal was founded in his own insecurities. Even if they did survive and Spike went on to make Buffy his mate, how would he cope when she left him? It wasn’t a point to be argued. There was going to come a day when Buffy wouldn’t be at his side, when she would desert him for greener pastures. Earlier Giles had planted the seeds of doubt in his mind as a last stitched effort at payback. Unfortunately for the vampire, the old sod had succeeded.

Spike tried to mask his apprehension with a weak smile. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get there, alright luv?”

Buffy nodded, still trying to fight back the tears. Now he was dodging the issue. When had Spike turned into the typical guy? Quick to profess his undying love but scared shitless of any form of commitment? She thought he would be different being a vampire and all, but like every other man in her life, he’d hurt her. She was beginning to question whether giving her heart to him had been such a good idea.

She grabbed her nightgown from the pile of clothes on the floor beside her, slipping it on as she slid off the bed. “I’m gonna freshen up,” she said quietly as she made her way to the door.

Spike could tell Buffy was upset and if he had any sense of mind he should just drop the altruistic act and tell Buffy the truth. He should tell her about his fears and insecurities. He wouldn’t though. She would think he was questioning her devotion, that he had doubts about their love. He didn’t. He just knew that she would eventually grow tired of the novelty of dating a vampire and leave him in search for the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids she was bound to want later in life. If he told her that, she wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t mate her because he wasn’t about to hold her back from the life she might one day desire. Even if it didn’t include him.

Following after her, he reached for her hand. “Pet…” he pleadingly called to her, wishing she could understand what position she had put him in.

Buffy pulled away, shaking her head. “Let’s just…let’s just drop it,” she implored as she turned the doorknob, her eyes averted from his apologetic gaze. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Spike did nothing as Buffy left the room. He simply stood there, staring regretfully at the door. So much for no distractions. He’d be lucky if he didn’t end up fitting in an ashtray by the time the night was through.




********


The main hallway was crowded with people, all waiting for Giles, who was standing patiently at the top of the stairs ready to address them. The house, the lawn and the adjacent street were filled with townspeople, all abuzz with nervous chatter. In an hour the sun was to set and many of them were to be sent out to face Damon’s vampire army. To say everyone was on edge would’ve been a grave understatement. Yet no one could deny that there was also a feeling of adventure, of optimism, of revitalized hope circulating amongst those gathered at the headquarters. A mindset that Giles was hoping these brave few would sustain as they willingly sacrificed themselves for the greater good. In the end, it would most likely be the only thing to keep them going.

Spike had come down the stairs a few moments before, not too soon followed by a dejected Buffy. Giles was somewhat surprised to see the couple arrive separately. He was even more taken aback by their cold dispositions, the warmth and adoration he had seen in their every action now nonexistent as they joined the rest of the group. Had he caused this? Had his few words to Spike triggered a quarrel between the lovers? Giles exhaled tiredly. This was without a doubt bound to come back and bite him in the ass. Why couldn’t he have just kept his trap shut? Why did he have to feel like he had to stick it to the vampire one last time? Now his best fighters were anywhere but in mindset for the fight ahead of them.

‘Happy now Rupert?’ he mentally reprimanded. ‘Seem to have a knack for buggering things up royally, don’t you?’

The crowd started to calm down, voices hushing in anticipation for Giles to commence his pre-fight speech. Pushing aside his self-deprecating musings, the Watcher promptly took his cue.

“I’m not one for speeches, but I feel that what we are about to embark upon warrants a few words of encouragement,” he started steadily, his gaze scanning the room. “I know I don’t have to tell you all how important this night is. It is what we have spent these five years preparing for. It won’t be easy and there will be casualties. Yet we cannot lose sight of the fact that if we succeed in defeating Damon, we might at last be rid of the vampires that had turned Sunnydale into a place so befittingly called a Hellmouth. It’s up to us to reclaim what’s ours,” he stated, feeling the zeal for their cause stir within him.

His eyes caught glimpse of Spike retreating back into one of the corners of the hallway, his leather duster wrapped tightly around his body, his gaze vacant as his attention focused on the tiny bit of empty space in front of him. Buffy, who was standing by an anxiously chatty Willow and comfortably stoic Oz, appeared to be just as crestfallen as the vampire.

The Watcher couldn’t also help but notice how Cordelia, who was in Xander’s company only a few feet away, was also shooting fleeting glances in the blonde girl’s direction. Giles could only assume the two young women had not buried the hatchet and were still at odds with one another.

The Englishman exhaled in exasperation. He was tempted to yell down at the whole lot of them to get over it and focus on the war they were about to fight. He wouldn’t though. No matter what he’d say, the damage was already done. Giles could only hope it didn’t deter them too greatly from what they had to do.

“You all know the plan and your stations. Good luck and Godspeed,” he finished, watching as the crowd quietly dispersed to their appointed places.

The Watcher’s gaze followed Buffy as she quickly maneuvered through the scattering crowd. She eventually flew past him as she made her way up the stairs, ensuring that Spike couldn’t chase after her since he had to join the rest of the garrison stationed out on the street. A brief flash of hurt crossed the vampire’s face before he masked it with a cavalier attitude, as though nothing could affect him. Pushing off the wall, he straightened his shoulders and added the patented swagger to his step as he headed out the door.

The scene that had jus played out before Giles made him yank off his glasses to give them a good cleaning. “We’re all doomed,” he muttered as he trudged up the stairs.

After saying their goodbyes to their respective women, Oz and Xander followed after Spike, also heading to their designated spots amongst the group of fighters located in the middle of the street. They were to lead small cohorts of troops as would a few of the other more seasoned fighters. The whole contingent would be led by Spike, who had placed himself dead center on the front line, where he could be the first to great Damon when he arrived with his vampire army.

Spike confidently walked past the humans who were arranged in battle positions. He nodded his head to the few people who’d greeted him. Everyone was still under the belief that he was some demon hunter that had breezed into town just in the knick of time. ‘No wonder it was so easy to take this town from these people,’ Spike thought contemptuously. ‘So bloody gullible.’

Ignoring the fact that these not so bright citizens were presently equipped with some serious anti-vampire artillery, Spike kept moving toward the front of the crowd. He was going to have to be careful. He couldn’t let his anger get the better of him. He couldn’t risk vamping out in front of these stake happy humans. He needed to concentrate and remember that he couldn’t eviscerate Damon if he was a pile of dust. All Spike had to do was keep his wits about him.

He paused when he overheard two men in Oz’s cohort exchanging a bit of gossip to pass the time.

“Do you ever wonder whatever happened to Spike?” the one who Spike vaguely remembered being called Scott asked as he slipped a few more stakes into the holders on his belt.

“The rumor is that Damon killed him and took the clan for himself,” the other, taller one replied, who Spike knew as Oz’s mate Devon. He was adjusting the shoulder strap to the dagger holder that crossed his chest, trying to get it the right position for best accessibility. Apparently, the boy could slice a strand of hair in two just with the throw of his knife.

Spike knew that these humans were in no way as strong or as fast as any vamp but at least they weren’t completely incompetent when it came to the art of war. At least he wasn’t going to have to carry the whole battle on his shoulders. It meant he could concentrate on destroying Damon a little more and babysitting a whole army of humans a little less.

“Well Jonathan said he overheard Xander and Willow talking about how Giles had got a hold of Spike. From the way they were arguing, he thinks Giles dusted the vamp in a fit of rage for what he did to Sarah,” Scott countered with another tale he’d heard from off the grapevine.

It was then that Spike approached the two, his intimidating confidence still in check as not to arouse any suspicion. The two came to full attention as he drew closer. He scoffed under his breath. Just like the rest of this town they thought he was someone deserving of their respect. Little did they know that they were admiring a vampire; the same vampire that not a few months back was their number one enemy. He would’ve snapped their necks without so much as a second thought.

“Hi Will,” Jonathan spoke up.

“‘ello gents,” he said, inspecting the weaponry they were wielding, playing the part of General that they wanted him to be. “‘bout ready for Judgment Day?”

They nodded earnestly.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Scott nervously replied. There was just something about the stranger that made him uncomfortable. His piercing sapphire gaze made it difficult to keep eye contact and the paleness of his skin made it hard not to stare. All those years fighting vampires was probably what made him look like he was one of them.

“So Will, what’s your theory on what happened to Spike?” Jonathan asked, hoping that since this stranger had been welcomed into Giles’s inner circle, he might know more than the rest of them.

Spike smirked smugly. “Don’t really need a theory,” he responded.

Jonathan and Scott stared at the vampire, completely stunned. “Are you saying you actually know what happened to him?” Jonathan pushed, eager to hear of the fate of the demon that had been Sunnydale’s Most Wanted for nearly five years.

“The Spike you knew is dead,” he told them bluntly. “I killed him.”

Leaving them to chew on that tidbit of information, Spike turned on his heels, marching toward the front line. He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to talk to those men or why he had felt the need to tell them of the supposed ‘demise’ of Spike, Clan Leader and Master Vampire. And it wasn’t like he had told them a complete lie; he wasn’t the same vamp who had once fought the humans he was now to lead. The Spike they had known was indeed dead and it was William who had killed him.

“So I guess this must be all bridging on the Twilight Zone for you, huh?” Xander asked as he took his place at Spike’s left side, his cohort just a few feet behind him.

Spike scoffed. “That would be puttin’ it mildly, yeah.”

Xander nodded. “I always figured you’d have something to do with the final showdown,” he told the evidently distracted vampire. “Just never pictured you fighting on our side.”

“Got Damon and his mutinous personality to thank for that,” Spike flippantly retorted, not tearing his gaze from the expanse of road ahead of him to look over at Xander.

At that moment Oz took Spike’s right. “Huh. I was under the impression we had Buffy to thank for your little change of heart,” the shorter man commented as he and Xander both pulled out their trusty swords.

Spike turned his head abruptly to stare incredulously at Oz, caught off guard by the mention of the woman who he had so carelessly, though unintentionally, snubbed. The vampire and the werewolf exchanged looks for the briefest second before Spike turned his attention back to the road ahead of them. “You best be thankful for her,” he muttered, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. “If it weren’t for Buffy, I would’ve ripped out all your throats the moment I found that you’d taken her from me.”

Xander glanced over at Oz, who could only shrug his shoulders at Spike’s scathing remark. “Oh yeah,” he cheered sarcastically. “I can see this ending well.”

The streetlights lit up as the night’s darkness blanketed them. At the end of the street, on a patch of road that had been vacant only moments before, now contained a horde of marching vampires. An army of hell was heading their way and the anticipation was starting to take its toll on the humans as the involuntary scent of fear filtered through the air.

Leaning on his sword, Xander sighed despondently. “I really thought I was gonna live through this.”

Staring silently as Damon and his vampires flew down the street toward them, Spike glimpsed one final time at the house, spotting Buffy at the open second story window, sun bomb ready in hand. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity before she did something that nearly knocked the vampire on his ass.

Buffy smiled at him.

Spike knew it wasn’t forgiveness. He had handled the whole mating issue so badly that up until now, he’d feared he had completely fucked things up in the there-was-no-going back kind of sense. But this tiny sign told him it wasn’t like that at all. She was still mad as hell but she was letting him know that it hadn’t changed the way she felt. She still loved him. It was a crumb but it was more than he deserved.

With a renewed sense of hope, Spike smirked as Damon’s smug face came into plain sight. “Suck it up, Whelp,” Spike called out to Xander, who was now alert, with sword raised and waiting. “The show’s ‘bout to begin.”