Chapter 10:

Spike had his arms crossed and had to dig his fingers into his arms to keep from growling at the guy who was piercing the Slayer's ears.

The Kid, as Spike thought of him, was a rather nice looking man with floppy brown hair, a goatee, several tattoos on his arms, and wore a Metallica t-shirt and ripped jeans. He was also practically drooling down the Slayer's front.

Spike couldn't believe the nerve of The Kid who seemed not to care that he was hitting on the girl in front of her older brother, as Spike had claimed he was. In fact, The Kid had even made a big deal about how he shouldn't be piercing her ears without proof that she was eighteen, but he'd make an exception since she had her brother with her to vouch for her.

Spike knew better, he knew The Kid was just hoping to get her away from him so that he could take advantage of her. The Kid even had the nerve to suggest that Buffy should think of getting something other than her ears pierced. Spike quickly put an end to that, conveniently forgetting that he'd made a similar suggestion before they'd arrived.

"There, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" The Kid said.

Spike wanted to hit him. Hadn't he noticed that his Slayer had never once flinched when the gun shot the metal through her ears? Three piercing in her right ear, and one in the left, and never once did she so much as blink. But The Kid couldn't see that she wasn't some girl, she was a warrior. Only Spike knew that.

The Kid had finished giving her instructions on how to care for her ears, and they moved to the counter to ring up the purchases. As The Kid continued to try and flirt with her, Spike pulled out his pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and purposely set the pack down on the counter.

He put the cigarette in his mouth when The Kid noticed him. "I'm sorry, man. There's no smoking."

The Slayer tensed, but Spike only smiled, put the cigarette behind his ear and shrugged. She relaxed, then her eyes noticed a calendar sitting on the counter.

"Is it really February?" she asked.

"Yeah. February 19th," The Kid replied.

"That mean something, kitten?" Spike asked.

"My birthday was a month ago," she told him. "I guess I really am eighteen."

"Well, Happy Birthday, kitten." Spike smiled sadly at her, knowing where it was she must have spent her last birthday.

"Isn't she your sister, man?" The Kid asked.

Spike ignored him. "How about a tattoo for your birthday?" he suggested.

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Please. Have you seen these things?" She turned to gesture at the walls which were covered in potential tattoos for people to chose from. "I mean they're all naked women, and snakes, and skulls. Or naked women sitting on a skull holding a snake."

"There's lots of roses and hearts," he pointed out.

"They're red," she stated firmly.

He sighed. She really was a stubborn thing.

The Kid walked over to her with a book, "We have a bunch of goth tattoos," he suggested.

But she wasn't paying attention to him, something had caught her eye.

"What is it, pet?" Spike asked. "See something you like?"

"It's not. . ." she moved closer to the wall. "It's just, I had a dress like that, when I was a little girl."

Spike looked where she was pointing. It was a small tattoo. A little blond fairy dressed in a pink ballerina's outfit. The fairy had a little wand with a star at the end, and delicate wings.

"My dad. He used to call me his fairy princess."

"Do you want it?" Spike asked her.

"No. . ." she said without any conviction.

Spike moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders as he whispered in her ear, "I bet you dad would be glad to know you remember. Bet he'd like for you to have something to remind you of him."

"I don't know. . ."

"A lot of women," The Kid broke in, "get that sort of tattoo right above their breast. It w-"

"NO!" Spike said firmly. There was no way he was letting anyone anywhere near her breasts. "It would look nice on your shoulder. You could cover it up then, if you ever want to."

"You think?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Okay," she agreed nervously.

The Kid quickly led her to a booth and prepared the needles. He tried to keep Spike out, but Buffy said that it was alright if he was there.

It wasn't that Spike was that interested in the procedure, it was that he didn't trust The Kid. Spike was sure that he was up to no good, and intended to molest her the moment he had her alone. So he stood guard over the Slayer as she got her tattoo.

When it was done The Kid put a bandage over it, and gave her instructions on how to take care of it. Spike paid and hurried her out of the parlor.

"So what do you want to do for your birthday, kitten?" he asked her once they left.

"It's not really my birthday."

"I know, but I'm guessing you didn't get cake. Do you want cake? What kind do you like?"

"I've never had cake."

"Right, I forgot. You know, I'm starting to wonder if there was any point in my rescuing you? We're going to find you cake. Maybe go out to a club or something."

Spike patted down his pockets, pretending to look for the cigarettes he had left in the tattoo parlor.

"Damn," he said. "Left my smokes back at the shop. Wait here, I'll be right back."

"It's okay, I can come with you," Buffy told him.

"Nah, it'll just take a minute, be right back. Think about what sort of cake you want."

With that he headed back down the street toward the tattoo parlor. As soon as he turned the corner and was out of the Slayer's sight he took off at full speed. He didn't want this to take too long.

He reentered the shop, a little bell ringing above the door as he did so.

"Can I help. .? Oh it's you again. Something wrong?" The Kid asked.

"Forgot my smokes." He picked up the package and lit a cigarette.

"Hey, I told you man, no smoking in here."

"Sorry about that," Spike said.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, walked over to the The Kid, and put the cigarette out in his eye. The Kid fell to the ground screaming in pain.

"That's for looking at my girl," Spike said as he hauled him up by the back of his shirt and threw him across the counter. Then his fangs tore painfully into The Kids throat, ripping it open. Blood poured from the wound down his throat.

It was a quicker death than Spike would have liked to have given him, but he didn't have time for niceties like torture.

He dragged the body into the back, and washed the blood from his face. Then he turned out the lights in the shop, turned the sign around from open to closed, and left.

He ran back till he was almost to the street where he'd left the Slayer, then he pulled out the cigarette that had been behind his ear the whole time, lit it, and strolled casually down the street.

The Slayer was nowhere to be seen, but a few feet from where he'd left her, a cop car was parked.

Chapter 11:

The moment Spike saw the cop car, he broke into a dead run. He wanted to vamp out so that he could see into the shadowed windows of the car. It didn't look like anyone was inside, but he couldn't be sure. However, his demonic features might make a bad situation worse.

Then he heard a man's voice.

"Look, honey. I'm supposed to bring you in, but you seem like a nice enough girl, so if you just do a little something for me, I'll forget about the whole thing."

Spike found himself fighting to contain the demon that roared as it heard the man's words which were coated with insincerity and innuendo. Normally he would have simply let his demon free, but cops could be tricky to deal with even if you didn't have to worry about a Slayer interfering or getting shot.

"I don't understand," he heard the Slayer say just as he turned the corner, into the alley the voices were coming from.

Nothing could stop the growl from leaving Spike's throat. The Slayer had her palms on one of the alley walls, and her legs were spread so that she could be easily searched. But the cop wasn't frisking her. He was right up against her, and the sickening scent of his lust left no doubt in Spike's mind that the cop was pressing an erection into the Slayer's ass. The cops wasn't so much frisking her as groping her.

Spike must have lost the battle with the demon, because when the police officer turned to look towards the direction the growl came from, his face went pale, and he pulled away from the Slayer to reach for his gun as he yelled, "Shit!"

"No, wait!" the Slayer cried as she grabbed the officer's arm.

Spike was already moving down the alley toward them. There was a loud boom as the gun fired, but thanks to the Slayer's interference the bullet missed Spike.

Spike was on the cop then. Spike slammed him into the wall and was just about to start beating his face in, when the Slayer grabbed his arm.

"No! He's a cop," the Slayer told him.

"He's a bad cop," Spike corrected her.

If he hadn't suspected that she didn't really know what was going on, he would have lost all patience with her. So instead they faced off, Spike still holding the cop against the wall, and the Slayer restraining his other arm.

"I know, but you can't beat him because he wasn't going to file a report."

Spike's jaw dropped. He wasn't entirely surprised, but to actually hear her defend the guy was another thing.

"What about for the way he was touching you? And, oh yeah, the whole attempted rape thing."

"Hey," came the police officers unsteady voice. "No one was raping anyone."

Despite his anger, Spike chuckled at that. One of the great advantages of being evil was that you were not afraid to call the ugly things in the world by their correct names.

"He's right," the Slayer defended the cop. "I didn't like the way he was touching me, but I don't think it was rape."

Spike sighed, and relaxed the arm the Slayer was holding back.

"Look, kitten. It wasn't yet, but that's where it was going. What do you think he wanted you to do?"

"I don't know." Her earlier confusion returned.

"Why don't you tell her what you wanted?" he dared the cop.

"Look, Mr. Vampire." That drew a snort from the Slayer. "I didn't know she was your. . . whatever. How about we just forget the whole thing?"

The fear that rippled off him in waves told Spike what motivated the officer's sudden politeness.

"Tell her what you wanted," Spike told him firmly. "And don't lie, I'll know."

"A-a-a blow job," he sputtered.

The blank look on the Slayer's face told him that she wasn't sure what that meant.

"Oral sex?" Spike explained. Still there was no sign of understanding on the Slayer's face. "Please tell me you know what sex is cause I'm NOT drawing diagrams."

Although the idea of a little show-and-tell back at the house was appealing to Spike.

"Yeah, I know about sex," she said with just a touch of uncertainty.

It was enough for now, although he had a feeling that her education was rather limited.

"Don't you see, pet. This. . ." he ripped the badge off the policeman's uniform. "Gives him power. He thought you were some little lost lamb, who'd do anythi-"

"I get it," she interrupted him loudly and suddenly. "I get it," she repeated softly. "You can't kill him though."

"Why not? He's a bad guy. You stop the bad guys right?"

"He's human, I can't let you kill him," she insisted with a pained voice.

But he could see the doubt in her eyes.

"So we just what, let him go? Let him go on hurting other girls? Taking advantage of the weak?"

"I-I, don't know. . ." she whispered. Tears began to stream down her face and she hugged herself. "Please, I don't know. I'm not a good slayer."

Spike winced at her words. Until that moment, they had just been a vampire and some human he was playing with. If they let the cop live, he might repeat the word slayer. The wrong people might hear it.

"It's not you, kitten. It's the world, not as simple as they told you it was. Get his cuffs."

"Huh?"

"Hand cuffs. We won't kill him okay, just teach him a bit of a lesson."

It was an imperfect solution, but there was no good way out of it. Killing a cop, however personally satisfying it may be, tended to gather attention. He would just have to hope that the cop's instincts to cover his own ass would keep his mouth shut. Besides, he had a feeling he'd pushed the Slayer as far as she could be pushed for one night.

They handcuffed the policeman to a gutter pipe in the alley. With any luck it would be a while before anyone found him. As they started back towards the street, Spike caught a glimpse of the cop car, and suddenly had an idea. He went back to relieve the cop of his keys.

"Get in," he told the Slayer as he unlocked the car.

"What?" But he was already inside with the door shut, so she was forced to get in to continue the conversation with him. "Spike. You can't steal a police car!"

"Not stealing it. Borrowing."

"I'm not falling for that. I know they're the same thing," she insisted.

By this time he was already driving down the street, looking for a grocery store.

"No. Cause once we do some shopping, we're going to put it back. A police car just sitting there attracts too much attention. We want the guy to sweat a bit, right?"

"You promise we'll return it."

"Promise. Now let's get you that cake, and some movies to watch. Okay?"

She looked uncertain but she sat back and buckled her seat belt all the same.

Chapter 12:

The Slayer was smiling again as they walked back to their lair. She'd been nervous the entire time they had the stolen police car, but as he'd promised, Spike returned it to where the cop was chained in the alley.

In the mean time, they'd found a supermarket and bought a chocolate cake. They'd also rented several movies to watch.

Picking movies had been difficult, not because they couldn't agree, but because the Slayer had no opinion whatsoever. Spike found himself in the unique position of picking movies for someone who'd never seen a movie before.

His first thought was that she'd like martial arts movie. But they usually had ridiculous or hard to follow plots, and she would be the type to ask him to explain everything. He'd gone through every genre he could think of, and found reasons to reject each one of them.

Finally he'd selected three movies. He chose Casablanca because it really was as good as everyone said, even if he thought Rick was a bloody fool. Goldfinger because he figured, you couldn't go wrong with Sean Conory as James Bond.

The final choice had been a last minute decision. He saw that they had the newest Disney movie, Mulan. Dru loved Disney movies, but Spike had learnt the hard way that he had to carefully watch them before she did, because of the ideas they would put in her head.

After seeing Cinderella she'd spent the next several weeks trying to get rats to dance and sing. That would have been fine with Spike, except eventually the rats bit her, and then she bit them back, which gave her rat breath.

That was nothing compared to what happened after she saw Alice in Wonderland. Spike hadn't been able to drink tea since.

Besides, Mulan looked like it was about a girl with a sword, which should appeal to the Slayer.

The Slayer was carrying the cake, entranced by the little red flowers and the frosting, which spelled out "Happy Birthday Buffy", while Spike carried the videos. He'd given her his duster to wear, hoping that, it would keep any other men from getting ideas about her.

When they got to the house, Spike opened the door and walked straight into what felt like a brick wall. There was nothing but empty space in front of him.

"Bloody hell!" he complained rubbing his nose.

"What's wrong?" the Slayer asked. She was suddenly alert, searching the darkness for a possible assailant.

"You've fucking nested, is what's wrong."

"Vampires nest, not Slayers," she objected.

"Yeah well, obviously you do. Thanks to your little cleaning fit, I need an invite."

Spike found the words strangely painful to say. Spike had no idea why the Slayer was still here, with him. Why she didn't just leave. But now she didn't have to leave. All she had to do was walk through that door and neither he, nor any other vampire could touch her.

"Oh? Um. . . I've never done this before. I'm not supposed to ever invite anyone in."

Spike's heart sank. Of course he was standing between her and the door. If he could surprise her, maybe he could beat her into giving him an invite. It didn't matter how or why you got one. All that was important was that the words were said.

But she continued on right away. "I invite you in," she said formally. Then she giggled, dodged past him, and ran through the door.

Spike was stunned for a moment. She had easily overcome a lifetimes training. He had no doubt that one of the first rules drilled into a slayer's mind was to never invite any one in. Doubly so if you knew for sure they were a vampire. But she'd done it, with no reason, and no convincing. He hadn't even really asked.

Recovering, he dashed inside after her. The barrier gone as mysteriously as it had appeared. Inside he could hear her still giggling. He saw that she had put down the cake, and he quickly dropped the movies. Then he began to stalk somewhat comically through the house.

"Now where did that sweat innocent little girl go?" he called playfully.

He heard a giggle come from upstairs. Slowly, and making a great deal of noise, he ascended the stairs.

"Is she in here?" he asked as he pushed open the door to her bed room. He knew she wasn't; he could hear her trying to suppress her giggles in his room.

Spike never even noticed how easily he had slipped into the game of tag with the Slayer. It was the sort of thing Dru might have done.

He continued in the same manner through the other upstairs rooms, leaving his for last. Finally he pushed open the door and entered. He made a great show of moving methodically through the room, checking under the bed and behind the curtains that covered boarded windows.

When there was no-where left to check but the closet, he said loudly. "Well, she must have got away when I wasn't looking. Guess I'll have to find another snack."

Then he walked in place, trying to make it sound like he was leaving. After a moment he crept quietly towards the closet door. Just as he was about to open it, it flew open, and the giggling Slayer dashed past him.

He tried to grab her but she broke free and was out the door. He ran after her, and they both leapt over the railing of the stairs instead of running down them.

He chased her into the kitchen, where he cornered her. The island was the only thing between them, and they both made several feints to either side. The whole time the Slayer laughed, her smile infecting her wild green eyes.

She was the one who finally ended their standoff. She tried to dash past him, and this time he caught her by the waist. He tried to swing her around so that he was hugging her from behind, but she used her momentum to send them both crashing to the floor.

They rolled around on the floor for a bit, playfully wrestling. It ended with Spike lying on his back, and the Slayer straddling him as she pinned his upper arms. A position he was more than happy with. Even through both of their jeans, he could feel the heat of her body warming him as her weight bore down on his erection.

He stretched under her and put his hands behind his head. He smiled up at her, "Looks like you win, pet."

"Of course," she teased. "I'm the Slayer."

"So what do you want?" he asked.

"Want?"

"Yeah, you won, so what sort of prize do you want?"

"It's a sacred duty. You don't get a prize for slaying," she explained patiently.

"No, I guess the only prize is getting to live another night to do it all over again," he said solemnly. "Unless you consider violence to be it's own reward," he added playfully.

She put her hands on her hips and pouted. "Violence is not a reward."

"Says the girl who just wrestled her housemate to the ground."

She stuck out her tongue at him and got up, which was not what he wanted.

"So what do you want?" He asked as he stood up. "You didn't actually slay me, so I think it's alright if you get a prize."

"Like what?" she asked.

"I don't know. It's your prize."

"What would you want if you had won?"

He put his hands on her shoulders, and leaned in close to her, as if he was going to whisper in her ear. Instead, he kissed her neck, sucking the delicate skin into his mouth and between his teeth. He didn't actually bite, just made sure that she knew that he could.

She shivered but didn't pull away until he removed his lips from her neck. Then she stumbled back away from him. Her heart was beating rapidly and her eyes were wide with a combination of excitement and fear.

Spike couldn't help but smirk with male pride at the reaction he'd caused in her.

"That wasn't real fighting," she said defensively as she struggled to get her emotions under control. "You said if you killed me it would be because we fought," she accused.

"Wasn't going to kill you," he practically purred at her as he moved in closer. That forced her to back up, until she was against the kitchen wall.

"You were going to bite me," she insisted.

"Doesn't mean I was going to kill you." He placed his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head, and leaned in close. "Do you think vampires bite only to kill?"

"Yeah," she said.

She ducked under his arms, to get more distance between them. He chose not to chase her again just yet. Instead he turned to face her and held her with his eyes.

"They didn't teach you so well, did they Slayer? The bite's not about killing, it's not about death, it's about life."

His words and her curiosity drew her back, closer to him. As she came near, he reached out and caressed her neck. She leaned into his hand as his eager fingers found her trembling pulse.

"We're not animals that you hunt, Slayer. We're demons, mystical beings, and our power is in our fangs, and in our blood. The night I killed my first slayer was the best night of my life, but not because of her blood, and it was sweet, let me tell you. But because that night my Sire let me bite her as we made love."

Spike stopped, amazed at the words that had tumbled from his lips. He had been looking for words to explain something that was pure instinct, trying to explain something that was as natural to a vampire as breathing was to a human.

But he had never meant to tell her that. It was too personal. Even if she didn't understand, it was his great humiliation. Being allowed to bite your Sire was an honor. It was usually reserved as a reward for pleasing the Sire.

Over the years Spike had seen countless vampires rewarded for small things by their Sires. That night was the only time Dru had ever let him bite her. Even when he'd killed the second slayer, she hadn't let him. Instead she'd beaten him and yelled nonsense at him about how she was going to be killed by a bird: a sparrow, or a robin or something.

Bitterness towards Drusilla flooded him. To escape the disloyal thoughts he quickly changed the subject.

"So what is it you want, pet?"

"I don't want anything," she told him.

"There must be something. Never mind if I can get it for you or not. If you had one wish, kitten, what would you wish for?"

"The Master dead," she said coldly.

Spike almost told her he would do it for her. Then shame filled him. She was the Slayer, his enemy. He wasn't her champion, he was her enemy. He was Drusilla's champion, her black knight. He killed for her, and then returned to her whether she chose to reward him or not.

The poet in him was absolutely loyal and devoted to her. The poet knew that he belonged to Drusilla. It was she who had saved him from the horror show that had been his life and brought him into the glorious night. And now he was betraying her, if he hadn't done it through his actions yet, he had done it in his heart, which was worse.

He didn't want to fuck and rape this girl, he wanted to seduce her. The demon hungered not just for her body and blood, but for her love as well. The demon wanted the one thing he had never had, except from the slayers he'd killed. He wanted respect.

He growled, as his demon came forth. "What the hell are you doing here?! Why don't you leave?!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her and took out his anger at himself, on her.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't have anywhere to go," she whispered.

He let go of her arms, and like a puppet who's strings had been cut, she fell to the floor. He ignored her and started to storm out of the room when her words stopped him.

"She's gone," she said softly as she began to sob.

"Who's gone?" he asked exasperated.

"Ms. Post. I called. After I bought food, I took the change to a pay phone, and I called her. But the number was disconnected."

He stood there, not knowing what he should say to her. He could have comforted her, but anything kind to her would have felt like another betrayal of his Dark Princess.

"I know what I'm supposed to do," she continued, swallowing her tears. "It shouldn't matter. I should go back, face the Master. That's my duty. I have to stop him. And I would, but. . . What if. . . What if I don't kill him, and he doesn't kill me? I can't go back. I'm scared. I can't . . . I can't go back to that cell."

"You want some cake?"

She wiped the last of her tears away. "Yeah, okay."

Chapter 13:

They had finished their cake, and were sitting on the couch watching Casablanca. Spike was sprawled over one half of the couch, one foot propped up on the coffee table, while the Slayer was sitting primly with perfect posture, feet planted flatly on the floor.

Spike wasn't paying much attention to the movie. Instead he was caught up in his own internal struggle as he tried to decide what to do with the Slayer.

He was so involved with his own thoughts that he didn't really hear her when she spoke.

"Hmm? What was that?" he asked, grabbing the remote to pause the movie.

"I said, if I let you bite me, will you let me stay?"

There was a momentary pause as he repeated the words in his head to make sure he'd heard them right. Then, without another thought he scooped up her legs and positioned her so her back was against the arm of the couch and her legs were stretched out along its length. As he did so he placed one of his legs between hers, so that he was kneeling over her.

He smiled at her, licked his lips and his mouth descended to her throat. He could hear her heartbeat increase as she held her breath. Then she exhaled sharply when instead of biting her, he began to lick and kiss her neck.

She started to relax, but then her body stiffened and she complained, "That's not biting."

He pulled back to look into her wide eyes, "Patience, pet. I do know what I'm about, and it's not ripping your throat out."

Then he leaned forward and gently brushed her lips with his own. He reached down and pulled her hips up so that his leg was nestled tightly between hers. She gasped as his leg pressed against her, causing her lips to part just enough for him to slip his tongue into her mouth.

He slowly probed her mouth, careful not to spook her. At first she froze beneath him, but then she began to respond, feeling his tongue with her own. She cupped his face with her hands, and began to experiment with pressing herself against his leg. He helped her by grabbing her hips and starting to move her back and forth against his leg.

Finally, he allowed her to breathe. He watched her as her eyes traveled down his body to where his leg was wedged between hers.

"That feels good," she said mystified, as she pressed her body even harder against his.

In the space of their kiss the air had become heavy with her arousal. His cock hardened at her scent, the taste of her lips, and the endearing little sounds she was making.

"It's still not biting," she pointed out.

Spike decided the Slayer was thinking too much, so he leaned back and pulled off his shirt. Before he'd gotten it completely off he hard the Slayer gasp, "Oh!" and she began to move faster against his leg.

He smiled as he watched her hungry green eyes devour the sight of his bare chest. He could almost feel her tracing his muscles with her eyes. Her hands started forward but then she hesitated.

"It's okay, luv," he invited her. "Touch whatever you like."

It was his turn to gasp as her hot hands met his cool flesh and she began to explore him. That was when he decided that her movements were wasted on his leg, so he tried to push her legs apart so he could nestle his cock between them, but her legs had a vise-like grip on him.

"Need you to let go, pet," he told her.

"Don't wanna," the little minx objected.

He slid his fingers through her hair, behind her braid, and then pulled just hard enough to grab her attention.

"Be a good girl now, or I'll have to punish you," he teased her.

She froze, becoming deadly serious, and Spike realized too late that she didn't have the proper context to understand his innuendo.

"You're going to let me stay aren't you, and not chained in the basement?" she asked panicked, releasing his leg.

"Shh," he said, removing his hand from her hair, and gently caressing her face. "I'm not going to make you leave or chain you up." He smiled at her, letting the tip of his tongue show between his teeth. "Unless you ask me too," he added.

"Why would I-" he silenced her by kissing her again.

He used the opportunity to slip between her legs, groaning as he pressed his denim covered cock into her heat. She moaned in delight as he began to press his erection into her, and quickly found her rhythm again as her hands danced across his bare torso.

Once he was sure that she was completely immersed in the sensations he was offering her, he broke off the kissing her. His mouth moved to her neck, which he began to lick and suck.

It was only once she was no longer expecting his bite, that he extended his fangs and pierced the delicate skin of her neck.

She screamed, dug her nails into his shoulders drawing blood, and bucked wildly beneath him. Spike moaned as her legs squeezed him and she pressed herself so hard against him that he was amazed that his cock didn't burst through their jeans and penetrate her.

He held tightly to her shoulders, trying to keep his fangs buried in her so that he wouldn't tear her throat. As he rode out the throes of her passion, he promised himself that he'd enjoy her next orgasm with his cock firmly buried in her pussy.

Her body calmed and her grip on him loosened. Then he pulled out his fangs, causing her to clutch him all over again. Although he'd sunk his fangs firmly in her, he'd been careful to miss the major veins and arteries. He wasn't feeding from her, only enjoying her.

Once his fangs were out, he began to suck the wound, delighting in the taste of the blood. She began moaning and moving against him again. Her hands held his head firmly to her neck.

Her blood was like nothing he'd ever tasted. Strong, sweet, and spiced with her passion. The thought of slowly draining her dry was so tempting. To distract the demon from thoughts of killing her, he let his hands wander down to scoop her breasts out of the cups of her bustier.

He was overwhelmed by all the sensations of her. The scent of her arousal, the feel of her breasts, the sound of her moaning, and the taste of her blood.

Her breasts where ideal, he decided. Perfect handfuls of flesh, and she made the most wonderful noises as he pinched her nipples. He wanted to suck on that tender flesh, and he decided he had to bite her there as well.

He slit his own tongue on the edge of his fangs, and began to lick her wound, mixing his blood with hers. He did it partly to help close the wound, but mostly to mark her as his. The scars that would be left on her neck would tell any other vampire that he had claimed her.

"See, kitten," he said once he was done. "Didn't I tell you biting was about so much more than killing?"

He smiled and moved his hands around her back so that he could unhook the bustier. He was so intent on exposing her breasts to his hungry eyes that he missed the look of realization cross her face.

Next thing he knew, there was a sharp pain in the back of his head as he crashed through the coffee table and hit the floor. Before he could recover from his shock, the Slayer moved up his body, so that she was pinning down his upper arms with her legs. For a moment Spike thought she was simply deciding to play a little rougher. After all the position she was in, with her legs spread wide just in front of his face, was very alluring. Not to mention it bathed him in the scent of her sex.

It was the sound of her sobbing that caused him to look up from the denim covered treat spread before him, to see the tears running down her face.

"How many?" she asked, her voice deadly serious, even as it broke from crying.

"How many what?" he asked confused.

Her fist crashed into his face.

"Fuck!" he yelled.

"How many have you killed?" she repeated.

"What? Ever?" he asked incredulous.

"No," she said impatiently. "Since you rescued me. How many people have you killed?"

"Come on, kitten," he tried to reason with her. "Why do you think I've been killing?"

"A vampire does not actually require blood to live," she began to quote. "However nothing drives more of a vampire's actions than blood lust. The younger the vampire, the stronger the bloodlust. A fledgling will almost always hunt as soon as the sun is down, and often kills several people before they are sated. The older vampire, although able to control their blood lust better, will still hunt every night. After two nights without blood, hunting becomes their first priority. Slayer's Handbook, Chapter 8. You're not hungry. You weren't feeding."

"There's not really a handbook?" was all he could think to say.

"Of course there is. That's not the point. Don't distract me. How many have you killed? It was last night, wasn't it, after I fell asleep."

"Yeah," he lied. Obviously he wasn't going to convince her he hadn't been killing, so he figured it was best to go along with her assumptions, and pepper his lies with truth. "Two."

"I don't want to, but I have to kill you," she said sadly, as she reached down and picked up a piece of the wooden coffee table to use as a stake.
 

Chapter 14:

"I don't want to, but I have to kill you," she said sadly, as she reached down and picked up a piece of the wooden coffee table to use as a stake.

"So don't," he said simply, trying to keep all emotion out of his voice. It wouldn't do to let the Slayer know he was scared she was about to stake him.

"I have to kill you. You're evil, and you kill people, and it's my duty." She began to cry again.

"You only have to kill me if I kill people right?" he asked. Hoping he could bargain his way out of trouble. "So, if you keep an eye on me until sunrise I can't kill anyone. No way out of this house for me once the sun is up."

"But what about tomorrow night, and the one after that?"

"Afraid you won't be able to kill me if you don't surprise me?"

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "I could kill you anytime. I won earlier, remember?"

He shrugged. Well actually he thought about shrugging since she was kneeling on his shoulders. "Sure when we were playing. Wasn't me that ended up chained in the basement."

She got up quickly, standing over him. "Get up," she ordered.

Inwardly Spike cursed. He'd only wanted her to lay off him a bit, and he'd thought her ego would be a good way to go. Fighting wasn't the sort of physical contact he wanted. From the look in her eyes, he wasn't going to have a choice, so as he started to get up, he kicked his legs out, knocking hers out from under her.

She let out a startled yelp as she fell to the floor. She caught herself, and was back on her feet at almost the same moment Spike had gotten to his.

"Cheater," the disgruntled Slayer said as they squared off.

Spike shrugged. He almost reminded her that he was evil, but since that wasn't likely to lead to a willing and naked Slayer, he simply replied, "All's fair in love and war, pet."

"Which is this?" she asked simply.

Her question startled him. He thought he'd simply used the first cliché that came to mind. As he started to consider the possibility that he might have meant something more, and that she might feel the same thing, her fist crashed into his face.

"Bitch," he snarled as he dodged a second blow and returned her punch. 'Not right for a bird to play with a fellow's emotions like that,' he thought. He resolved to take it out on her face.

That was easier said than done. This wasn't the irrational girl he'd faced the other night, or even the playful child he wrestled with an hour ago. This was the Slayer calm, collected, and in control.

It pissed Spike off. The look in her eyes, the easy and sure way she moved told him that she was sure she would win. Spike wasn't sure she was wrong, and that was dangerous.

There was also the fact that every graceful and powerful movement she made, every blow of his she blocked, and every punch she landed, only made Spike want her more.

Just as Spike was beginning to realize if he didn't get the upper hand soon, he never would, he managed to catch her fist before it could crash into his nose again. He twisted her arm, forcing her hand painfully behind her back.

His other arm swung around her neck, to choke her. He started to pull her around so that he could slam her face first into the wall, when she looked over her shoulder at him and their eyes met. He had no idea which one of them started it, but next thing he knew, they were kissing as fiercely as they had been fighting a moment ago.

Somewhere in the middle of the desperate kissing he released her so that his hands could concentrate on the more important task of removing her jeans. She tried to turn in his arms, but he held her still by wrapping one arm around her waist as his other hand reached down into her panties.

His fingers brushed past her curls to find her hot wet folds. She moaned as his fingers began to explore her.

"Has any one ever touched you here before?" he whispered in her ear.

"No," she moaned.

He pressed his erection into her ass, and began to rub against her, causing her jeans to slowly reveal more and more of her to the open air.

"Do you ever touch yourself here?" he asked, ghosting his fingers over her clit.

She bit her lip to stifle her cries, and shook her head no.

"What about this?" he asked as he thrust a finger inside her.

Her gasp and the tensing of her body told him that it had hurt her. He wasn't surprised, as he felt how tight she was.

"God you're so fucking tight and wet," he moaned in her ear as he let her adjust to the feeling of his cool finger inside of her.

"I'm sorry."

He laughed as he began to move his finger slowly in and out of her. "Don't be sorry, kitten. It's going to feel so good when I fuck you. It's gonna hurt you though, you want me to stop?" he asked, but only because he knew what the answer would be.

"Oh God, no," she begged as she began to move her body against his hand. "I'm the Slayer," she insisted. "Can take the pain."

He wanted to laugh again, she had no idea how much he could make it hurt if he wanted to. Only moments ago he might have done it too. But now she was so willing, so eager, that he resolved not to make it hurt, much.

Her jeans finally moved passed her hips, and the hand that held her in place momentarily released her to rip her panties away. Then he grasped her breast through the fabric of the bustier he had yet to manage to remove.

"Do what I say then, pet." She nodded. "Unzip my jeans."

Her hands reached clumsily behind her, as she fumbled with the zipper. It was well worth it however, when his cock sprang free and she instinctively grabbed it.

It was his turn to moan as she began to move her hand along the length of his cock from the base to the tip, completely innocent of what she was doing to him. When she reached the head her fingers began to trace its outline.

"It's big," she said as she gently squeezed him.

He bit her shoulder, stifling his moan, and keeping him from coming in her hands. Her body trembled with excitement at the slight pain of his blunt human teeth, but to his dismay, her hands vanished.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she apologized.

He kissed her shoulder, admiring the little pink half-moons his teeth had left. He held her close, and began to run the length of his cock along the crack of her ass.

"Oh no, baby," he told her. "That felt so good."

As a reward, he thrust a second finger into her. She gave out a strangled sigh and began to move against his hand. Her moaning and her motion felt so good that Spike was thinking it was time to end their foreplay. She was so wet she was practically melting in his hands, and his cock was practically demanding to be sheathed in her hot pussy.

He pulled his fingers out of her so that he could coat his cock with her juices. He had barely begun when she spun around and hit him in the face. Having been hit by her earlier, he could tell that she wasn't using her full strength, but it stung nonetheless and pissed him off.

"Ow! What the bloody hell was that for?" he demanded.

"I did what you said, and you stopped," she complained, sticking out her lower lip.

"Oh, pouty! Look at that lip."

He pulled her close and gently bit her lower lip. She melted against him and began to kiss him. The tip of his cock slid down past her curls and between her legs. She tried to hook one of her legs over his hip, so she could better enjoy the sensation of him rubbing against her, but her feet got tangled in her jeans, and she nearly fell bringing Spike with her.

"Now, now, pet. Why don't you take those off and lie down for me?"

Reluctantly she pulled away from him and knelt down so that she could take off her boots and jeans. As she did so she got her first look at his cock. Her eyes went wide, she swallowed, and licked her lips.

He smiled, and began to finish undressing himself. By the time he was done, the Slayer was lying on the floor wearing only the bustier her arms stretched above her head.

"Spread your legs," he commanded her.

She did so, and he unconsciously reached down to stroke his cock as he saw her delicate pink folds. He was on top of her a moment later, kissing her and rubbing against her. Her hips came up to meet him, as eager for the friction as he was.

After several minutes of battling her tongue with his, he broke off kissing her to look into her eyes. He reached down to position his cock at her entrance. His other hand grasped hers, their fingers intertwining.

He held himself there, savoring the moment before he took her virginity. She had other ideas however, and to his surprise she raised her hips, forcing the head of his cock inside her. What she had begun, his body quickly finished, plunging into her faster than he had meant to, tearing through her thin barrier until his cock was completely buried in her. She squeezed his hand so hard he thought she might crush it.

It was only then that he realized what he had done. As he looked at her face he could see her biting her lip and tears starting to form in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, kitten. Didn't mean to go so fast."

Although he had meant his apology sincerely, the Slayer managed to interpret it as a challenge. She released her lip and glared defiantly into his eyes.

"Shh, none of that now," he told her. "This isn't a battle."

He reached up with his free hand to gently stroke her face.

"What is it?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "Not sure. Two violent people trying to feel good?"

That's when he started to move inside her. Slowly, gently thrusting in and out. He did it slowly not just to keep from hurting her, but also because he was so overwhelmed by the sensation of her that if he went any faster he'd come too soon. She would never be this tight again, and he intended to enjoy her as long as he could.

It didn't help his self-control that he could smell her virgin blood. He tried desperately not to think about the treat that was waiting for him when he was done. So he was sure to bump her clit with each thrust, bringing little gasps of pleasure from the Slayer each time. It wasn't long before she relaxed under him, and began to match his rhythm.

"Does it feel good, baby?" he asked as he pulled her leg around his waist. "Do you like having the big bad inside you?"

"Yes," she cried.

Her hands were everywhere. Grabbing his skin, tearing it with her nails and moving on. It was as if she was desperate to find something to hold on to, but couldn't stop moving.

He kissed her again. He was lost in her. He thought this must be the most wicked thing he'd ever done, because nothing had ever felt so good.

He also knew his control was slipping. Any moment she would pull him over the edge, and he was determined to take her with him. He reached down between them so that he could stroke her clit with his fingers. She broke off his kiss as she threw her head back and screamed.

He reclaimed her lips and kissed her savagely as his cool fingers taunted her clitoris. She began to push harder and harder against him, and just when he thought he couldn't take another moment her legs clamped around his waist as she came.

Her legs squeezed him so tight that he thought he would have suffocated if he were human. Her inner muscles seemed to be squeezing him just as tightly. He screamed in pleasure and pain as she milked every inch of his cock.

He spilled his cold dead seed into her, collapsing on top of her. Her body still shuddered for a moment before she too was still. Slowly her body released him, her arms and legs unwinding to fall limply to her side.

He pulled himself out of her, and rolled onto his side, gathering her into his arms. He was surprised to find sadness in her hazel eyes.

"What is it, kitten? I thought that was bloody fantastic myself."

"It was wonderful," she agreed. "But I still have to kill you, and I don't want to. You're nice to me, and you make me feel really nice, although I'm kind of sticky. But you're still evil. And-"

He silenced her with a gentle kiss. "Shh. Don't think about any of that. Can't do anything evil while I'm here with you can I?"

"But I can't stop thinking about it," she complained.

He reached behind her to undo the hooks of her bustier, and get rid of the last of her clothing.

"Obviously I'm loosing my touch if you're still doing that much thinking. Let's see what I can do about that, hmm?"

He was a bit annoyed. Not that she was still dwelling on the fact that they were mortal enemies, but that she had reminded him. No matter which way he looked at it, only one of them was going to survive this, and he was determined that it should be him. Which meant sooner or later he was going to have to kill her.

To distract them both, he began to kiss her, starting at her neck and working his way down her body. He paused at her breasts to suck each nipple in turn, eliciting delighted sighs from her. But he didn't pay much attention to them. His goal was further down.

He continued his trail of kisses down her stomach until he came to the nest of curls between her legs. He spread her legs apart revealing the blood that stained her thighs. He licked his lips in anticipation and then began to lick the blood off of her thighs.

Her hand idly reached down to tangle itself in his hair. She gasped with surprise when his tongue moved to lick clean her folds. She began to squirm as she sought more contact with his tongue. He grabbed her hips and held her in place as he began to thrust his tongue in and out of her.

Spike was in heaven. He was bathed in the musky scent of her arousal. Her blood combined with their sex made a heady mixture that he couldn't get enough of. He licked around the edges of her entrance massaging her sore muscles with his cool tongue. Gently at first, and then applying more and more pressure.

She whimpered as she tried to break free of his grasp. "Please," she begged him.

"Please what?" he asked. "What is it you want, pet?"

"No, don't stop. I need. . . "

He smiled. "Poor little Slayer. Doesn't know what she wants. You want me to lick your clit?"

"I don't know. . . I-Ahhh," she cried out as he blew a blast of air on her sensitive bundle of nerves. "Yes, there," she told him once she was under control again.

"Don't know, pet. If I lick you there you might not need me anymore. Might decide it's time to dust poor Spike."

"No, please. I promise, just. My clit?" she stumbled over the unfamiliar word. "Please. . ."

The thought of making her beg more crossed his mind, but it was enough to know that he could make her beg. He bent down and began to gently lick her engorged clitoris.

"Yes, please more."

'She's a polite, little thing,' Spike thought idly as he thrust two of his fingers into her. That meant of course partially releasing her, and she eagerly thrust herself closer to him as she tried to get more of the contact she desired.

He gave into her, and sucked her clitoris into his mouth while he fucked her with his fingers. She screamed his name as she thrust against him, he continued his ministrations as her body heaved around him.

When she finally stilled, he crawled back up her body. He held the fingers he'd had inside of her in front of her face. "Have a taste?"

She opened her mouth and sucked her juices off his fingers.

"Now then, kitten. What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Huh?" was all she said, staring at him with glazed eyes.

He chuckled. "Never mind, pet. That's how it should be," he told her as he gathered her in his arms once more.

Chapter 15:

It was late afternoon when Spike moved in his sleep, looking for something. He wasn't sure what he was looking for at first, knowing only that something should be there that wasn't. As his senses awakened he realized what it was. The Slayer.

Spike groaned, his body was still tired and a little bruised. He wondered how the little minx could possibly move after the previous night. Once Spike had awakened her body to the possibilities of sex, she had become ravenous for it. She demanded not just that they do it over and over, but had the naive impression that she could learn every way to do it in one night.

Spike had done his best to oblige, taking her a different way each time. Not that he'd showed her half his tricks, but she had given over to his instructions completely, letting him position her however he wanted. Still there were things he'd reserved for later on.

He figured that as soon as the sun went down he'd take her to a sex shop, if nothing else he needed some lube. There was no point in hurting or forcing the girl when she was so willing and so eager to do what he wanted.

But where the hell had she gone? The warmth of his flesh, from where she had slept, told him that it wasn't that long ago he'd held her.

Grudgingly he opened his eyes, to look around for her. His body was so covered with her scent, and more specifically the scent of their sex, that there was no way he could use his nose to track her down.

He rolled to his hands and knees and looked around the room. They'd made a pretty mess of it, the couch was overturned, the tele was on the floor (he hoped unbroken) and several paintings had come down off the walls.

They'd made one attempt to move to the bedroom, but as the Slayer had turned her back to him, he'd simply had no choice but to fuck her from behind, and they never made it past the first few steps. Now Spike used the banister to pull himself up as his delightfully sore muscles protested.

He walked slowly up the stairs, towards muffled sounds he heard coming from above him. As he got nearer, it sounded as if she was struggling with something, and there was a strange rustling sound. He pushed open the door to his room, and stopped dead at the frightening sight before him.

The Slayer was wearing the wedding dress.

She was engaged in an odd sort of dance as she reached behind her to try and finish fastening it up. Unfortunately the thick beaded straps that were designed to sit just off her shoulder, were restraining her arms, and keeping her from being able to finish zipping up the dress.

When she saw Spike she asked sweetly, "Will you please help me?"

"Why?" he croaked.

He couldn't believe this. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen anymore. Girls weren't supposed to expect you to marry them just cause you'd had a little fun. Not to mention the fact that he was a vampire and she was a vampire slayer. Or was this part of some scheme on her part to house break him so she wouldn't have to kill him? Spike wanted no part of it.

"Because I can't do it myself," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I-I mean. . . What's with the dress?" he stammered.

Although there had been a look of intense concentration on her face as she'd struggled with the dress, there'd also been a general air of happiness about her. At Spike's words her face fell, the edges of her mouth twitching as if she was fighting a battle to keep smiling with some unseen force, which was tugging her mouth into a frown.

"I'm so stupid," she said quietly to herself, as she renewed her struggles with the dress. "Must look so stupid."

She made little whimpering sounds like she was about to cry and she struggled frantically now, not to get the dress on, but to rip it off.

'She's completely crazy,' Spike thought. Although he wasn't sure whether it was simply typical female insanity, or the clinical kind. In either case it was a little late to start requiring sanity in his women. Besides running from bridal Buffy wasn't going to get him laid, so he figured he just had to deal with it.

He moved closer to her, and she collapsed, sobbing, into a pile of lace. He knelt next to her and gathered her into his arms.

"Hey, now. Stop that. What's going on?" he asked as he stroked her hair.

"Nothing. Stupid." Was all she said, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

"It's all right. You can tell me, kitten," he coaxed her.

She looked up at him with innocent green eyes, "I just wanted to be pretty, you know, like a girl. But I just look stupid and ugly, don't I?"

There was no hint of anything but pure honesty in her voice. She wasn't fishing for complements, he doubted she would even know how. She honestly didn't realize how beautiful she was.

"Oh, baby," he said as he hugged her and kissed the part in her hair. "You're giving me way too much credit. I'm an evil shallow man. Wouldn't have touched you if you weren't gorgeous."

She sniffed. "Really?"

"Really."

A bright smile lit up her face and she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He returned her embrace and bent his head to nuzzle her neck in the place where he'd bitten her the night before.

He stopped as he saw the scar. Not wanting to let her know anything was wrong, he quickly kissed her neck as he intended, but his mind was racing.

It wasn't so much the way the scar looked, it was the way it felt. He'd meant to mark her, to leave a feeding claim on her. It was really a routine sort of thing, he'd done it dozens of times. It let other vampires know to leave the human alone.

Although some vampires did find humans they found especially tasty to mark, most of the time humans who were helping vampires were marked. Spike had often marked humans in this way so that the human could report to Spike at his lair, and his minions would leave the human alone.

That wasn't what he'd done to the Slayer. The mark he'd left on her was far more powerful. He had marked her, not as a preferred meal, or as a helper, but as a potential Childe. The procedure was after all the same, it was the intent that mattered, and in his lust his demon had marked her as potential 'his forever'.

'Is this really what I want?' he asked himself. It was a terrifying and an appealing thought. To make this creature his mate. To have this beautiful warrior in his bed forever. 'And what about Drusilla?' William's voice whispered. 'She's your destiny.'

But before his mind could sort out his tangled emotions and the impulsive acts of his demon, the Slayer whispered in his ear, "So can we have more sex now?"

He laughed, "Can't get enough of me can you?"

He swept her onto her back so that he was crouching over her, and kissed her deeply. She returned the kiss, pulling him close to her as her hands roamed his body. She pinched his nipple, and he was forced to break their kiss as a delighted gasp escaped his lips.

"Nope," she giggled. "You're even better than ice cream."

He smiled devilishly at her, a wicked idea coursing through his mind. "You could have both at once, you know?"

"I can?!" her eyes lit up and a goofy smile crossed her face. "Show me!" she demanded.

Laughing they got to their feet, and she practically dragged him downstairs into the kitchen. Once there she ran to the fridge and pulled out the ice cream. As she held the carton in her hands a slight frown crossed her face.

"Something wrong with it?" he asked as he rummaged through a drawer for a spoon.

"They had all these different flavors at the store," she began apologetically. "And I didn't know what kind to get. So I got one that has different kinds." She held it out, waiting for his approval.

It was hard not to laugh at her as she stood holding the carton of neapolitan ice cream as if she'd done something wrong. He wondered exactly what was going on in her head that she was worried the flavor would effect the sex.

"That's just fine," he told her, biting his lip so as not to hurt her feelings by laughing at her. "You can use whichever flavor you like best or all of them."

He took the carton from her and opened it. He held the spoon over the stripped ice cream. "Which flavor?" he asked.

A serious look crossed her face as she considered his question. Having come to a decision she looked up at him and firmly told him, "Pink."

He scooped out a thin strip of strawberry ice cream. She looked at the spoon, and it was clear by the expression on her face that she thought she deserved more than that. Then she opened her mouth expectantly.

He chuckled, "Not like that, luv."

She closed her mouth and looked at him puzzled until he began to spread the ice cream on his cock. He shivered as he coated himself with the icy treat. Just because temperature couldn't hurt him, didn't mean he wasn't sensitive to it, and he delighted in the cold wetness that he swirled around his cock. He closed his eyes, and leaned back against the kitchen island reveling in the sensation.

His cock went hard and he screamed, "Fuck!" as a hot tongue began to eagerly lick the desert off of his erection.

His eyes sprang open and he looked down to see the Slayer on her knees in front of him.

She stopped to ask, "Does that feel good," although for once her innocence was an act. The twinkling in her eyes said that she had a pretty clear idea of what she was doing to him.

All he could do was whimper in reply. She quickly returned to licking him, carefully cleaning all the ice cream off of him. The contrast between the cold ice cream and her hot tongue was incredible. His fingers dug into the island and he could feel bits of it breaking off in his hands, as he fought to find some way to control the pleasure raging through his cock.

Although he'd shown her how to make him hard with her hands the night before, she hadn't gone down on him, he'd concentrated on keeping her pleased and distracting her from any vampire slayer thoughts she might have.

Still she had learned to interpret the reactions of his body, and every time he came close to coming, she would stop and enjoy whatever ice cream was on the spoon. After the strawberry, she covered him with vanilla, then chocolate. Finally she drew the spoon across all three flavors and tried them and him at once.

By this point Spike was weak with need and desperate for release. She had obviously learned from him the night before how to torture someone with pleasure and make them beg for more. Plus she was enjoying having him as mad with desire and desperate for release as he had made her.

"Please," he begged.

"Please what?" she asked trying to imitate his manner from the night before. "What is it you want, Spike?"

"Suck me," he moaned. "Please, let me come in your mouth."

He was too lost in his lust to even consider that his request might alarm a young inexperienced girl. But then the Slayer had no real preconceptions about sex, and without a moments hesitation she sucked the head of his cock into her mouth.

He moaned and gripped the island tighter to keep his hips from thrusting into her mouth. After a moment he trusted himself enough to let go with one hand, and place it on her head, gently guiding her into a gentle rhythm.

He looked down to see his cock moving in and out of her hot mouth and he began to rant incoherently. "Yes, oh fuck, yeah. Buffy. Like that. Yes, please."

He was lost in the feel of her. Every sense focused in on the beautiful warrior who was willingly on her knees before him. And so he didn't realize they weren't alone until he heard the distinctive clicking of a gun being cocked.

Chapter 16:

Spike grabbed the Slayer's hair, yanking her head back and throwing her to the ground, so he could move his body between her and the gun. There was a momentary pain when her teeth scrapped his cock as he pulled her mouth off of him, but he barely noticed since a moment later a bullet had torn through his lower back.

Snarling, he spun around to confront their attacker. It was a rather attractive middle aged woman wearing a tweed pants suit and holding a gun with both hands. When she saw his bared fangs and yellow eyes, she gasped took a step back, and her left hand began to reach for her neck.

It was not the reaction of blind terror he would have expected, but he was too busy reacting to worry about why the woman seemed more surprised that scared.

Before her hand made it to her throat, he was on her, twisting the gun out of her hand, and throwing her back into the wall.

The gun hit the floor, and he kicked it away from the woman and toward the Slayer. The woman was momentarily stunned and since the Slayer hadn't been hurt, he figured he could trust her to deal with the woman, because now that he'd been alerted to the fact there were intruders in the house, he noticed the sounds of two more people moving toward the kitchen.

The second Spike moved from the kitchen into the living room, a man yelled, "Vampire!" His 'a's and 'r's marked him as British.

The man was dressed all in black and carrying a military looking riffle. He had what looked like some kind of armored vest, and all sorts of gear as if he were some sort of secret policeman.

As soon as he saw Spike he leveled the riffle at him, but he only held it with one hand, as his other hand groped for something at his waist.

Spike dived for the floor, rolling towards the man. Although the bullets wouldn't kill him, they hurt like hell and he'd already been shot once.

it was only once the bullets started whizzing over his head that it occurred to him that if the man was shooting at him, he was also shooting at the kitchen and a stray bullet might hit the Slayer. If the man was concerned about hitting his female comrade, however he didn't show it.

A bullet grazed his shoulder, as the man tried to adjust his aim for the moving target, but he was having a hard time controlling the riffle one handed while trying to free something from his belt.

Spike's rolling had brought him to a crouch just in front of the man. He reached up to grab the muzzle of the riffle and point it at the celling. Spike could feel his palm burning as soon as he touched the hot barrel of the riffle, but he ignored the pain, as he got to his feet and wrenched the weapon from the man's hands.

The man had finally found what he'd been searching for, which appeared to be a canister of pepper spray. The man never got the chance to use it, because Spike had already ripped the man's throat open with his fangs.

The blood flowed hot and fast into Spike's mouth, and he knew it was already beginning to heal the gunshot he'd sustained earlier. The man was almost instantly dead, and his blood covered both Spike and himself. Spike held onto the man as if he was still feeding for he could hear the final attacker trying to sneak up behind Spike.

At the last moment Spike spun around, catching an upraised arm which held a jagged piece of wood. Spike recognized it as having been part of the coffee table the Slayer and he had smashed through the night before. That meant that although these people knew what vampires were, and how to kill them, they hadn't been expecting to find one.

Before Spike could process what that might mean, he howled, as the left side of his face exploded with pain like it had been hit by a thousand burning needles. It took only a moment for his mind to register the sensation; holy water. He responded, not by letting go of the man's arm, as his attacker had hoped, but rather he twisted it sharply, nearly pulling it out of its socket.

His attacker was not as used to pain as Spike, and dropped the small spritzer filled with holy water, similar to the one his companion had tried to use.

Then Spike was behind him, digging his fangs into the man's neck. He killed this one slower and less viscously but only so that he could drain as much blood as possible to aid his healing. It was done more by instinct than thought.

As the man's heartbeat faltered, Spike could hear only two more in the house. They Slayer, and the woman who had attacked them. For the first time since he had left the kitchen he refocused his attention on the two women. He could hear the Slayer softly sobbing which surprised him.

"The vampire, Buffy," he heard a woman's voice with a stuffy British accent say. "You must slay him. Quickly now. Before he comes back."

It all slid into place for Spike then. He still had no idea why these people were trying to kill the Slayer, but at least he knew who they were. Spike was willing to bet a hundred siamese that the woman was the Watcher, Ms. Post. Which meant that he had been wrong in assuming that the Slayer could deal with her.

Spike ran back to the kitchen. The Slayer and the Watcher were sitting together on the floor. Ms. Post was making a great show of trying to comfort the girl, but Spike could she that she was trying to position herself to get the gun back.

The next moments were a blur to Spike. He was trying to warn the Slayer and stop Ms. Post, while the Watcher ordered Buffy to kill Spike. He found himself struggling with the Slayer who was trying to stay between vampire and Watcher.

And then everything seemed to slow down. He could see Ms. Post's hand close around the gun. He saw her raise it and take aim. He tried to warn the Slayer, but she was determined to keep him from her Watcher, and all her attention was focused on him. The tiny blond was a formidable obstacle when she chose to be. Spike had given up on reaching the Watcher and was only trying to place his dead flesh between the Slayer's live flesh and the gun.

There was a loud boom, and then she wasn't struggling against him anymore. Her body jerked, her eyes went wide, and the demon observed the grotesque beauty as bright red blood seeped into the white lace. 'Like Snow White's mum,' Spike absently thought.

Then time seemed to return to it's normal speed. And Spike was simply trying to catch the Slayer's body before she crashed into the floor. As he gently lay her head on the floor he looked up to see the Watcher taking aim yet again.

This time Spike grabbed the hand with the gun with his, and twisted, snapping her wrist, and most likely breaking several of the bones of her hand. The gun fell to the floor.

Spike's anger had gone beyond passion into a sort of clinical detachment as if all of this wasn't really happening to him. He threw Ms. Post over his shoulder, and quickly ran with her down the basement. He chained her to the wall there. He was going to kill her. But later, and slowly. He would use everything Angelus had ever taught him. Not because he would enjoy it, but because it had to be done. It was as if there was a rule that she could die in no other way.

Then he was back upstairs, looking at the Slayer's body on the floor. She was gasping, and her eyes seemed to be searching for something.

"Baby?" he asked, trying to see if she could hear him. "It's going to be okay."

He began to tear the sating petticoats of her dress to make bandages. The bullet seemed to have gone through her shoulder. Spike couldn't know for sure, but he didn't think it had hit anything important. But there was so much blood, and Spike had a very good idea of how much she could loose and still live.

Despite the intense pressure he applied to the wound, it didn't want to stop bleeding. Her head flopped to one side, revealing the scars on her neck, and that gave Spike an idea, though he wasn't sure it would work. He got up and grabbed a kitchen knife, slicing through the skin on his arm. Then he let his blood pour into her wound.

He knew vampire blood could be used to stop the bleeding of the bites they left. But he didn't know if that magic would help here. He couldn't be sure, but he thought her bleeding did lessen, so he quickly bandaged her up again. Her body seemed cold, so he lifted her up and moved her upstairs into his bed, covering her with blankets.

She seemed tiny all of a sudden. She seemed to weigh nothing when he picked her up. She was like a delicate little bird. All too easy to snap and break. All of her strength seemed to be gone, and it was hard to believe that this fragile girl was a fierce warrior.

"It's going to be okay," he told her again.

He knew he had to get her to a hospital, but it was daylight out and he couldn't take her there himself. When they had first taken over the house, the lack of sewer access had seemed a blessing. Protecting them from unwanted intruders during the day. But that was when they assumed their enemies were vampires. Now that made the house a prison. Keeping Spike inside.

There were no working phones in the house, so he couldn't call 911. Then an idea hit him. He ran back down stairs and began to search the bodies of their attackers, hoping to find a cell phone. All he found were radios, and he was willing to bet that anyone on the other end was not going to help them.

Dejected he returned upstairs to watch over the Slayer. Her best hope now was that one of the neighbors had heard the gunshots and called the police. But it already seemed to Spike like the police should have arrived by now.

There was nothing he could do but wait, and watch her condition. Now that the bleeding had stopped she seemed to be doing, not okay, but she didn't seem to be getting worse. Her heartbeat was steady, if not as strong as he would have liked. And if things got to bad, there was one way left to save her, even if it meant killing her.

Chapter 17:

Spike leaned back wearily against the wall. Who knew cleaning could be so tiring? And the damn bloodstains didn't want to come up.

As soon as the sun had gone down, he had spirited the wounded Slayer to the nearest hospital. He'd been delighted to discover that the Watchers had arrived in a black van that they had conveniently left parked on the street in front of the house.

At the hospital he'd been forced to leave Buffy like an abandoned kitten. It wasn't as if he could answer questions about health insurance anyway. Besides, if she showed up as a Jane Doe, it would take longer for the Council to track her down.

So Spike had returned to the house they had appropriated. He had things to do, people to torture, and bodies to get rid of.

Torturing the woman, who did in fact turn out to be Ms. Post, turned out to be very unsatisfying. The woman had a very low tolerance for pain, and spending the afternoon chained in a dark basement by a vampire had not helped her courage. She had told him everything he wanted to know very quickly. Not that information was the main reason for the torture. It was because she deserved it, and because he'd thought it would make him feel better and make him forget about the Slayer he'd abandoned at the hospital.

It didn't. More than that, the things she did tell him turned his stomach. It's not that they were excessive in their evilness. He'd known human beings to do things to each other a thousand times worse. But Ms. Post was supposed to be one of the white hats, and it shook Spike's convictions to the core.

From the moment Angelus had first told him about slayers, Spike had seen himself as a player in an epic battle of good versus evil, and Spike was proud to be on the side of evil. It wasn't about winning. After all, if you killed one slayer, another one was sure to pop up. You fought because the battle was its own reward. You fought because someone had to–good vs. evil–what would the world be without that? The secret Spike had learned in death was that true beauty came from its contrast with ugliness. It was why he'd always been a bad poet as a man; he refused to see the dark ugly side of life.

But if the Watchers Council treaded so close to the dark side, what was the point of being evil? At least he could cling to the knowledge that the slayer was good. He'd faced three of them, and their goodness had been so clear you could almost taste it. It wasn't that they were saints–no, they were human enough–but they tried their best to do the right thing, and fought as hard as they could.

Something was wrong with the very nature of the world if these beautiful warriors were controlled by something as corrupt as the Council. It was almost more than he could stand.

That's why once he was done with Gwendolyn Post, he had desperately looked for something else to occupy his body and mind. He had started to clean, as if scrubbing away the bloodstains could scrub away the past. Besides, Buffy had worked hard to clean the place the first time. It hurt him to think they had come and messed up all her work.

Spike just hadn't expected it to be so difficult. In fact, he had spent most of the rest of the night trying to make the house seem normal again. The sun would be up soon, and he'd meant to return to the hospital to check on the Slayer, but now there was no time. So a hungry, tired Spike decided there was nothing to do but sleep.

That was easier said than done, however. Normally Spike had no trouble falling asleep, but now he was haunted by a hundred things he could have done differently. He wished he'd gone back to the hospital. If he had, he could have haunted the hallways, popping in and out of Buffy's room when the nurses and doctors were gone. He'd be there in case anything happened. Instead he was stuck here, in this horrible house where he'd been so happy just a short time before. Finally, exhaustion won over and he fell asleep.

When he was shaken awake, he first thought he was still dreaming and that the ghost of the Slayer had come to haunt him, wearing hospital scrubs.

"You killed Ms. Post," she accused.

"Yeah," he admitted, still trying to sort out whether he was awake or asleep. He finally decided he felt too physically miserable to be asleep. "She was trying to kill you," he explained.

The Slayer sank down on the bed next to him. She looked awful. She'd always been pale, because she'd been imprisoned away from the sun for months, but now her paleness had a deathly cast to it. There were bags under her eyes, and she looked as if nothing but pure will was keeping her going. Not to mention the fact that the hospital scrubs, which he supposed she'd stolen, weren't all that flattering.

"She wouldn't do that," she insisted weakly, but she didn't sound very sure.

"She shot you didn't she? And she's a Watcher, so why would she try and stop a vampire with a gun. Just pisses us off, you know?" He took a deep, unneeded breath and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Buffy's face. "Listen to me, pet. I know this is hard for you to hear, but you need to understand the Council's going to keep trying to kill you."

"No, they-"

He interrupted her. "Look, I talked to your Ms. Post before she di– I killed her." There was no point in being anything but blunt and honest. The Slayer was going to need to confront some hard facts. "They sent her, and the two blokes with her to check on you. They realized you escaped from the Master, and they sent your Watcher to evaluate you. To decide if you were still able to slay. They thought you might be too wounded, or maybe you'd gone crazy from being tortured or something. If you were no good as a slayer anymore, Ms. Post and the goons she brought with her were supposed to kill you so another slayer would be called."

He paused, carefully watching her features. She seemed frozen, as if she wasn't willing to react yet.

He continued, "When she saw us, she thought. . ." Despite the seriousness of the whole thing he couldn't help but laugh softly at the irony. "She thought you'd found some nice bloke and gotten married. She thought you'd given up slaying and were trying to hide from the Council and were no good to them any more. That's why she tried to kill you. You can't trust the Council any more."

She whimpered slightly, fighting to keep the tears from running down her face. "It's not true!" she insisted. But Spike was fairly sure she was trying to convince herself more than him.

"Look, I can show you what they really are, what they really did to you. But not now. Not till the sun goes down. Will you just. . . can you trust me until then?"

The tears were flowing freely down her face. "You're wrong," she said weakly. "But you can show me, tonight. You're wrong though."

He nodded. It wasn't much, but it was something. And when you looked at the big picture, she was alive, awake, and not trying to kill him. He only hoped the proof he needed was still out there after all these years.

Chapter 18:

They drove in silence. Since agreeing to give Spike a chance to prove his accusations, the Slayer had barely said a word to him. She had refused to spend the rest of the day with him, and had instead retired to her own room. All he had wanted was to hold her, to reassure himself that she was alright. But she wouldn't allow it.

So he had spent the rest of the day sitting in the hallway outside her room. Forced to content himself with listening to the sound of her heartbeat and breathing through the door.

Her silence and her refusal to let him touch her were killing him by inches. His heart was breaking piece by piece, which forced him to admit that somewhere along the way she'd stolen it.

Although she seemed to be doing okay, Spike was still worried. Not just for her health, but for her heart. She'd been betrayed by the person who'd meant the most to her, who'd been her entire world.

And Spike was also worried about what it would mean when Buffy came to understand the full extent of what he had done. He had acted only to protect her, but considering her refusal to admit her Watcher had attacked her, Spike doubted she would understand the steps he had taken to protect her from the Council.

More than once he nearly got up from his post by her door, to go down to the basement and decapitate the body of Gwendolyn Post, which was still chained to the wall, but he was too scared to leave Buffy. He felt as if the worst hadn't happened yet. If he left her, even for a moment, something even more terrible would happen.

Instead he had to settle for smuggling Buffy out of the house as soon as the sun had set. Finally, after driving for what seemed like an eternity, he parked the car.

"Why are we at the library?" Buffy asked, speaking to him at last.

"Easiest way to get online," he responded.

She looked at him suspiciously for a moment, and then shrugged and got out of the van.

They didn't have much time until the library closed, so Spike hurried her inside and sat her down in front of one of the public terminals.

He pulled up a search engine, crossed his fingers, and told Buffy to type in her full name.

She looked at him dubiously again, but did as he asked. To Spike's great dismay it turned out there was a Buffy Anne Summers who was a chemist in Ontario.

"Spike what is this?" she asked.

"Just give me a minute," he snapped at her. He felt like time was running out on him. It wasn't like he was very good at surfing the web. Spike tried to keep up with the times, but computers did make his head hurt a little, even if they were useful.

Then he realized his mistake. With a grin he shoved her hands off the keyboard, and letter by letter typed "missing children" next to Buffy's name and hit "Search".

His face lit up as the link he'd hoped existed popped up in front of them. He quickly clicked on it.

"What is this . . ?" Buffy's voice trailed off as the new page loaded in front of them.

The pictures were still loading, but the text was clear enough. Buffy Anne Summers had disappeared without a trace from her aunt's wedding when she was four years old. Her parents had been looking for her ever since.

The first photograph loaded, and there was Buffy, four years old and smiling. A pretty little girl with blond pigtails smiled into the camera. Next to it was a grainy picture that was labeled "Photo age-progressed to 16 years." It looked more or less like Buffy, only minus the scar and with really bad hair.

It was when the final picture loaded that tears began to run down Buffy's cheeks. This one was was labeled, "Taken on the day she disappeared." It showed Buffy in a yellow lace dress holding a white satin pillow and sucking on her fist. She was held by a beautiful smiling woman also wearing a formal yellow dress.

"Mommy," Buffy whimpered, stroking the face of the woman on the computer screen. "I don't . . . I don't understand," she said, turning to Spike.

Spike took her hands in his and was relieved when she didn't pull back. "Your Watcher lied to you, luv. Your parents didn't give you to her. They probably never even heard of a Slayer. The Council kidnapped you. They stole you so they could control you. So your only loyalty would be to them."

She buried her face against him, and he held her, stroking her hair and ignoring the looks they were drawing from the other library patrons.

He continued quietly, "Smart way to do it, too. At a wedding. Your parents probably thought you were safe as houses. A whole gaggle of relatives there to help keep an eye on you. But a couple strangers too, so that an unfamiliar face could slip in. Your mum probably just looked away for a second . . ."

He stopped his explanation to comfort her. It was obvious he'd made his point. After several minutes of sobbing, and Spike shooing away a concerned librarian, Buffy finally looked up again.

"I wanna see them," she said.

"Kitten, they could be anywhere."

"No," she said firmly and pointed to screen, and the number to call if you had any information. "Eight one eight. That's a local number. I've seen it on a bunch of the signs and billboards and stuff."

He looked and she was right. It was a Los Angeles number. They moved over to the pay phones and searched through the phone book. There they found an entry for H & J Summers. It was the same phone number as on the web page, and there was an address.

Buffy insisted that they go right away, and Spike could do nothing but agree. It had never occurred to him that her parents would be here. But then he'd never really given much thought to where the Slayer was from.

Once again they drove in silence. This time it wasn't because Buffy was angry with him, she was simply too lost in her own world to remember he was there.

As they got to the street where her parents supposedly lived, Buffy suddenly leapt out of the van without waiting for Spike to stop. She ran down the street, beating Spike to the address.

She knocked on the door and after a moment a woman answered. Spike was just pulling over on the side of the road, but he could hear the woman say with disbelief, "Buffy?"

Then there was hugging and crying, and the Slayer was saying "mommy," over and over.

The woman looked up for a moment and called out, "Hank! Hank come here!"

A man hurried from somewhere in the house to the door. "Joyce what . . ." He never finished his sentence, but found himself enveloped in the crying and hugging.

Spike's attention was focused on the woman's face. She was without a doubt the same woman depicted in the photograph, and yet at first Spike hadn't recognized her. It hadn't occurred to him that after fourteen years she would look different from her photo. But time had not been kind to Joyce Summers. Grief and worry had left their marks all over her face. Her hair was mostly grey, and despite her current joy, there was a weariness about her. To Spike it was as if he had seen her age those fourteen years in an instant.

Despite their current happiness, time was pulling these people apart, and would leave them all in tears. It was as if they were aging before his eyes. They were human, and he didn't belong in their world.

He put the van into reverse, and drove away. She deserved this, after all. Buffy deserved to have this time with her family. To be given back to them. All Spike could do was make sure that no one interfered in her new life.

Next