Chapter 19:

The black Desoto sped angrily down the streets of L.A, driven by one pissed off vampire. Recovering his beloved car had been only one of many things Spike had done the night he'd left the Slayer at her parents' house.

He'd set several things in motion that night. Plans to kill the Master and destroy his factory. Plans to make sure the Council left the Slayer alone. The fact was, Spike had spent the entire last week busily ensuring that the Slayer would be able to live happily ever after with her mommy and daddy.

And how had the crazy bint repaid him? By hitting demon bars looking for him. As soon as word had reached Spike that the Slayer had been seen beating up the local demon population trying to find out where his new lair was, he had hurried out to find her before she got herself into too much trouble.

He was too late. He had gotten to the last place she'd been seen, only to find out that a vamp there had given her false information. He'd told Buffy to go to an abandoned warehouse where he'd claimed she'd find Spike. In actuality, the warehouse was the temporary home for several of the Master's minions who were in L.A. looking for the Slayer. In other words, she was walking into a trap.

The Desoto screeched to a halt outside the warehouse, and Spike ran inside. He could already hear the sounds of fighting. Then he saw the Slayer surrounded by four vampires. He was about to leap into the fray when she spotted him, smiled and waved, before catching the arm of one of her attackers and shoving a stake through his chest.

It was bad enough that Spike had rushed across town to rescue her, now she wasn't even asking for his help. If she was going to be that way about it, well, he would just stand back and watch. How often was he going to get a chance to simply watch the Slayer fight anyway?

Much to Spike's chagrin, she didn't need his help. She managed to dispatch the remaining three vampires all by herself. As her stake pushed its way into the heart of her final attacker, she called his name, ran through the dust, and before Spike knew what was happening, she had him in a tight hug.

Spike found it hard to maintain his anger with the Slayer's body pressed against his, especially when she looked up at him with those deadly green eyes and a smile he thought might set him on fire. Spike couldn't remember anyone ever being this happy to see him before.

"Hey," was all he could manage to say, although part of that was because her hug was preventing him from taking in the breath necessary for speaking.

"Oh! I didn't hurt you did I?" she asked with genuine concern.

"No, kitten. I think all my ribs are still intact."

She smiled again, and Spike was at a loss for what to say. Oh he'd planned out a rant as soon as he'd heard she was looking for him, but he couldn't remember a word of it now, or even exactly why he was mad at her.

She looked good. If he hadn't known she'd been shot a week ago, he never would have guessed it. There was more color in her face than he'd yet seen, she'd obviously been out in the sun. But she had reverted to her no-nonsense slaying clothes. She wore a black tank top that revealed the tattoo he'd given her as a belated birthday present. She put her stake away in a pocket of her khaki cargo pants and looked at him expectantly.

"So, uh, what brings you here?" Spike asked, wincing as he said the words. At least he hadn't asked her 'What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?' but he almost might as well have.

"I was looking for you. Why'd you leave?" she asked, and just like that her sunny happy disposition was gone and she looked sad and a little scared.

"You um, looked happy. With your mum and dad. They seemed nice . . . Aren't they . . . didn't things work out?" he asked.

"They're nice," she told him hurriedly. "And they love me, and I love them. But they . . . they think I'm crazy."

"Bloody hell, you didn't tell them about being the Slayer did you?"

"Well, yeah. Of course. I mean they asked me where I'd been, what happened, so I had to tell them."

"You didn't have to tell them the truth. Come on, couldn't that Slayer brain of yours make up something they'd believe?"

She drew herself up, crossing her arms. "I couldn't lie to them. They're my parents. And you shouldn't lie to anyone. Only bad people lie."

"Uh, huh. Well, I'm the Big Bad here, and did I ever lie to you?"

"No, but you don't make sense."

He chuckled at that. "How's that, pet?"

"Well, you don't lie, at least not directly. I mean you didn't tell me about the people you were killing. And you're really nice, and make me feel good and happy. And I like you better than anyone else, but you're evil."

"Really?" Spike asked. He tried not to smile by biting his lower lip, but he couldn't help being flattered by her strange assessment. "So is that why you were looking for me?"

"Sort of. I need your help." He looked at her quizzically. "I need you to help me kill the Master."

"And what makes you think I'll do that?" he said, trying to regain some of his composure.

"Well, you said you didn't like what he was doing. And he must be after you too." Then she looked down at the ground and added quietly, "And maybe you kind of like me, too?"

He didn't think, he just raised her chin and kissed her gently. Her mouth opened for him immediately, and a moment later their tongues were playing with each other.

When they pulled apart, she smiled at him and asked, "So you'll help me then?"

He closed his eyes, unable to look at her. "I can't."

"What?!" she exclaimed pulling herself out of his arms and shoving him away. "Why not? I have a plan, and it's a good one. You haven't even heard my plan."

He could see her fighting to keep from crying.

"I'm sure it is, kitten," he said reaching out for her, but she backed away. "But the two of us, we're not enough. There's just too many vampires between us and the Master." The Slayer was about to break in with an objection so he hurried to continue. "But don't worry. I got a plan too. I'm going to take care of him. The thing is, I have minions now, and they're part of the plan, and there's no way I could get them to fight with the Slayer."

"They will if I'm a vampire," she said.

Chapter 20:

"The two of us, we're not enough," Spike told her. "There's just too many vampires between us and the Master." She was about to break in with an objection so he hurried to continue, "But don't worry. I got a plan too. I'm going to take care of him. The thing is, I have minions now, they're part of the plan, and there's no way I could get them to fight with the Slayer."

"They will if I'm a vampire," Buffy said.

He laughed. "You're kidding, right? You're the Slayer! That can't be what you want."

It was too absurd a notion for him to take seriously. It was hardly the first time in his life he'd met a human who wanted to be a vampire, but normally those sorts of people were pathetic Anne Rice wannabes, who thought it was all dark, noble and tragic. He couldn't see his Slayer as one of them.

But she wasn't laughing; her face was serious.

"What I want?" she asked incredulous. "You're right, I'm the Slayer, what I want isn't important. I don't even know. . ." She shook her head, looking away from him. "All I know is, I don't know how to be the Slayer anymore. It's not just that I don't know who to trust, or being confused about. . . "

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, "I don't have a Watcher anymore, and the Council–it's not like they're going to send me another one now. My parents, it's not just that they think I'm crazy, it's that they don't believe me, it's that. . . if I'm living with them, I'm going to get them killed. Some demon will hold them hostage, or a vampire will follow me back to the house and they'll invite him in.

"And I can't do it on my own." She stopped, looking down at the floor as if she was ashamed. "They gave me this test, to see where I belonged in school . . . and I never went to school, Ms. Post taught me everything I know. I did really great on the reading, but on everything else. . . They said my math was only as good as a third grader, and I didn't know who the founding fathers are, or even what they founded. I mean . . . I know the Slayer's handbook backwards and forwards, and Latin, Greek, and two demon languages, and the history of Grishna'k wars. But none of that will help me get a job or take care of myself. And I'm scared."

Spike took advantage of the momentary pause in her ramblings to pull her into his arms and stroke her hair. She collapsed into him, grateful for the comfort until he whispered to her, "It'll be okay."

Then she pushed him away. "No, it's not," she insisted angrily. "I'm the Slayer. I can't be scared, not this scared anyway." She walked away from him, hugging herself tightly. "It never mattered before. I-I couldn't lose. I mean I could, but if I died, it just meant that another Slayer would be called, and there would be someone else to take over." She turned back to look at Spike, tears running down her cheeks. "But the Master changed all that. I can't go back to that cell. And if I slay, he'll find me, and if I don't, I'm just doing his work for him."

She hurried back to Spike and put her hands on his shoulders. He could feel her pulse trembling through the palms of her hands.

"But if you turn me, it won't matter any more. They'll be another slayer, and I can fight the Master, and not be scared, because . . . because he'll have no reason to lock me up."

"You'll be evil, are you really willing to do that?" Spike spoke without thinking.

Turning her was both everything he wanted, and something that terrified him. It had crossed his mind before, and not just when it would have been to save her life. But if he wasn't fully honest with her, if his expectations were too high, he was afraid she would end up like his mother. He was afraid that she would reject him when she opened her eyes on her new life. He couldn't bear that.

"I know," she sighed. "And that scared me some. I don't. . . I don't want to kill people. But when you think about it," she tried to sound positive, "there's hundreds, thousands of vampires in the world. One more doesn't make much difference. But there's only one Slayer. And if there isn't, that's a huge difference. I can't beat the Master the way I am, but if I were a vampire, I could make sure the slayer line was safe, that the next girl wouldn't have to worry about him. That's all the good that I'm sure of anymore." Then she paused, and looked at him seriously. "Unless. . . you don't want me."

"Oh baby," he cried, putting his arms back around her. "To be with you forever, I want it so bad." He tilted her head up so he could look her in the eyes, "I just need to know you really want this."

She sniffled and smiled at him and he brushed the tears off her cheeks. "I'll still like ice cream right? Cause there's this store that has thirty-one flavors, and I've only tried five."

He chuckled, "I still like food, so no reason to think you wouldn't too. That the only thing you want to know?"

She shrugged, "I know I'll still like you." Then her eyes went wide as a disturbing thought occurred to her. "You won't let me kill my parents, will you?"

"No, I promise, kitten. I won't let you hurt them. Except . . . your disappearing is going to be real hard on them, you know."

"I know, but it's better this way. I don't have to worry about the Council, or the Master, or anyone hurting them because of me now. It's better, really."

A silence fell between them then. Spike felt as if it were almost his duty to argue with her. To find reasons as to why she was wrong. He wanted her so badly, and was so scared that this would cause him to lose her. He couldn't bear that, not again. And the thought of seeing her dead–even if it were only temporary–sent a chill through him.

Finally she broke the silence.

"So are you going to kill me or what?"

"Well, not here." He straightened up and grabbed her hand pulling her out of the building. "Right, come on."

"Hey that's your old car," she said as she saw the Desoto.

"Yeah, well I'm not really hiding any more," he told her as they got inside the car.

"What if the Master finds you?" she asked.

"Oh, he already has. Sent a bunch of his minions to try and take me out. Killed most of them, the couple I thought I could trust I forced to join me. The thing is, the only way to get yourself a lot of minions without attracting notice is to turn them yourself, and I need better than fledglings." He reached over to squeeze her leg comfortingly. "Don't worry, kitten. I know what I'm doing and the minions, we'll need them, but they're mostly a distraction."

She nodded, and tried to stare out the window, except of course it had been painted over with black paint, so there wasn't much for her to look at. Spike reached over and put his arm around her, and she looked at him again and smiling shyly she snuggled into his arms.

After a few minutes of this he asked, "Aren't you going to ask me what the big master plan is?"

She looked up at him curiously, "You mean there really is a plan? Not like when you rescued me and kept pretending you had a plan?"

"What makes you think I didn't have all this planned?" he asked, indignant.

"Well, you could have warned me I was going to get shot," she said.

"I didn't mean. . ." he started in, before he glanced at her grinning face. "Are you trying to be funny?" he accused her.

"Not trying. I'm very funny I'll have you know."

He snorted. "According to who? Stick with your strengths, luv."

"Oh, and what are they?" she asked coyly.

Keeping his eyes, on the road, he reached down to take one of her hands, and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the palm. "Well, they mostly involve your hands, and that very strong grip of yours. Although, now that I think of it," he stopped to separate her index finger from its companions and suck it gently into his mouth. "You're pretty good with your mouth too."

She giggled, and pulled her hand away, snuggling back into his chest.

"Tell me it's going to be okay," she murmured softly.

"It's going to be okay, kitten. I promise," he reassured her.

Then he pulled his arm away from her so that he could turn the wheel. A few minutes later he was parked at the abandoned warehouse he'd co-opted for his new lair.

"Don't suppose acting is one of your skills?" he asked her.

She let him go and looked at him questioningly.

"If we just walk in there, with you healthy and hale, we'll have a fight on our hands. We'd win of course," he said smiling. "But then I'd have to go find more minions."

He reached out and gently stroked the scars he'd left on her neck. "I'll just take a little, but I need you to act like you're too drained to fight back. Can you do that, pet?"

She nodded, her smile gone. Then she leaned forward, tilting her head to better expose her neck to him.

Spike started towards her, then he changed his mind and leaned back. He put one finger under her chin and lifted her face until she was looking him in the eye. As soon as he had her hazel eyes locked in his blue ones, he vamped. She didn't so much as blink, but still he felt compelled to ask, "Are you sure? We go in there, and getting you out alive will be a bitch."

She knelt on the seat so that she could lean forward, and kiss the ridges on his forehead.

"I'm sure," she said, but Spike could hear a slight tremor in her voice.
 

Chapter 21:

Spike put one finger under Buffy's chin and lifted her face until she was looking him in the eye. As soon as he had her hazel eyes locked in his blue ones, he vamped. She didn't so much as blink, but still he felt compelled to ask, "Are you sure? We go in there, and getting you out alive will be a bitch."

She knelt on the car seat so that she could lean forward and kiss the ridges on his forehead.

"I'm sure," she said.

Spike could hear a tremor in her voice and sense just a hint of fear in her scent, but it didn't matter any more. He'd restrained the demon for too long. Her bare neck was there, in front of his eyes, and without thinking he leaned forward, grabbing her by the shoulders as his fangs sliced her throat.

He sucked at the wound, letting the blood flow not only down his throat but also down her neck and across his lips. Her heartbeat roared in his ears, and he could feel her power pulsing through him. He could hear her whimper, and the thumping of her heart told him that she was just a little frightened. Normally this would have only encouraged him more. But his mouth was directly above the scars he'd left on her throat, and the demon remembered. She wasn't just some meal; she was to be his mate.

Afraid that the clarity he was currently experiencing wouldn't last; Spike pulled himself away from her, flung the car door open, and stepped outside. The fresh night air helped clear his head a little, and when he looked back to see the wounded girl sprawled across his front seat he almost fell to his knees to apologize.

But he was aware of golden eyes watching him from the factory door. Instead, he pulled Buffy roughly from the car and into his arms. Her head fell back, as if she was too weak to support it herself, though he knew he'd taken only a little blood. That was one of the reasons he'd scratched her throat instead of biting her. The cut would bleed enough to look good, but would stop before it endangered her.

He stormed his way up to the factory door, and the minion standing guard picked up on Spike's mood and hurriedly opened the door. As soon as Spike strode through the door, several pairs of hungry demonic eyes turned towards him and the burden he was carrying. The powerful aroma of slayer blood filled every corner of the factory, and his minions began to close in on him.

On the drive over he'd thought of words to say to the other vampires. To make it clear she was for him alone. He forgot them all. His lips curled back and he snarled, meeting each set of eyes until they turned away one by one. Then he made his way upstairs.

The factory was one large open room, except for a manager's office perched above the employee bathrooms. This was where Spike had set up his room, so that he could both have privacy and be able to watch his minions though the large windows that overlooked the factory floor.

As soon as he entered the empty room, he pushed the door shut with his foot and laid the Slayer down on his bed. He crawled over her to cover her body with his. His tongue sought out her neck, and he began to lick closed the wound that was gently oozing blood. She sighed in contentment, and he could feel her body relax beneath him.

Once he'd staunched the shallow wound, he sat back on his heels to get rid of his duster and shirt. As he pulled his body off of hers, he felt a slight tremor go through her and her heartbeat increase.

"Spike?" she asked, confused and a little scared.

"I'm here baby," he said running a finger down her cheek to her chin.

Then he realized that although he could see just fine, the dark was impenetrable to her human eyes. He almost teased her about being afraid of the dark, but he knew what really frightened her was being alone.

"I'll light some candles," he whispered to her, but she grabbed his arm.

"Don't leave," she pleaded.

He dug into the pocket of his jeans until he found his lighter. Then he flipped open the lid and lit it, letting the flame dance just below his face.

"Look, you can see where I am," he told her.

She nodded, and he got off the bed to light the various candles that were scattered about the messy room.

Just before he lit the first candle, he tried to shake off his game face. But the demon refused to let go. Yet there was no bloodlust. He'd been waiting for it, expecting since he'd first tasted her blood out in the car, but it had been strangely absent. He had seen red for a moment, as the hungry faces of his minions had approached him, and he would have ripped the head off of any of them who had tried to touch her. But now that they were alone, Spike found himself oddly at peace.

She was his mate, or would be soon. His demon's lust ran deeper than blood. It was a comfort to Spike. At least one of his fears about turning her–that he would take too much blood, that he would kill her in a haze of blood lust before she could drink his blood–vanished.

He finished lighting the candles, and then pulled a dagger out of his desk and set it on the bedside table before settling back down next to his Slayer.

"Aren't you going to bite me?" she asked, disappointed, as she nodded toward the dagger.

"Of course I am, kitten. That's for me. I want you to drink from my throat, not my wrist, but I can't exactly bite myself on the throat."

Buffy nodded in relief, and Spike was encouraged by how eager she was for his bite. At least that part of turning her would be easy. He leaned forward and kissed her shoulder.

"Do something for me?" he asked, his mouth still hovering over the spot he'd kissed.

She nodded slightly.

"Take down your hair."

She looked at him like he was a little crazy, but she reached back and pulled the rubber band from her hair. Then her fingers pulled out the links of her braid. She shook out her hair, which fell in lazy kinks down her shoulders, tickling Spike.

He pressed his face into her golden tresses, inhaling her scent. That's when he realized that she was using all the same stuff he'd picked out for her their first night together. She must have had her parents buy her the same soap and shampoo.

"So beautiful," he murmured.

She laughed. "Silly, it's just hair. Look." She extracted his face from her hair and then worked a lock of his own hair free from the gel. She tried to pull it down in front of his eyes, but it wouldn't quite reach. "You have some too."

He laughed with her. Then he rolled on top of her, intending to tease her, but the moment their bodies connected, he found he could no longer hold his lust at bay, and he was kissing her passionately.

The next thing he knew they were rolling about on the bed, their hands desperately trying to reacquaint themselves with the others body.

Buffy's hands left their exploration of Spike's chest to lift her top over her head. Spike reached behind her to undo her bra and growled in frustration when he realized that the sports-bra she was wearing didn't have a clasp. She quickly pulled it off, but Spike made a mental note to have a talk to her about her utilitarian fashion sense. After all, how could a bloke impress a girl by undoing her bra with his teeth if she wore one without clasps?

That was the last clear thought he had as her hands descended to his belt and she began to unfasten his jeans. They both struggled to keep kissing as they divested each other of the last of their clothes.

Finally they were both naked, and their violent kissing slowed as they slid into place against each other. Spike's cock was tickled delightfully as it moved past her curls then rubbed against the wetness between her legs.

He had meant to start kissing his way down her body. He had fully intended to go down on her and make her come a couple of times in order to relax her for the turning. But all of that was forgotten as she reached between them and positioned the head of his cock at her entrance.

Spike moaned as their bodies came together, and just like that he was pushing into her, spreading her open as her hot depths welcomed him. He gave her a moment to adjust to him, even though he thought keeping still like that would kill him. He desperately need to move inside of her, to fill her with his seed, to make her his again.

Buffy didn't keep him waiting long, but began to move under him and they both cried with pleasure as he began to thrust into her. She laced her fingers in his hair and pulled his head to her exposed throat.

"Please," she begged.

"Shh, not yet baby," he refused.

She whimpered, and Spike knew he was doing something wrong, which he found hard to believe considering how wet and welcoming her pussy felt.

Then he realized what he was doing. He was selfishly drawing this out, afraid that something would go wrong and this would be his last chance with her. He had never really thought about what this was like for her. He was suddenly amazed at what it must have taken to bring a slayer to the point where she was willing to surrender to a vampire to be turned.

He realized it must be torture for her to keep up her resolve, to not follow her instincts and fight him. Not to mention that her death was looming over her, filling her with anxiety and dread.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, just before his fangs dug into her throat.

She cried out in pleasure, as he began to drain away not only her life, but her fear and anxiety.

Her body began to move more rapidly against him, and worried that she wouldn't have much time considering how rapidly her blood was pouring into his mouth, his hand descended between them to stroke her clit and bring her quickly to completion.

Her body convulsed around him, milking him until he came along with her. But he could feel the strength leaving her body, and hear the slowing of her heartbeat.

Spike groped blindly until his hands closed around the dagger, bringing it to the edge of his throat and slicing it, before tossing the dagger aside. He then lifted Buffy's head, bringing her mouth to the wound. As she began to suck on his neck, his cock began to harden within her again. He began to move gently inside her, not wanting to hurt his dying girl.

Soon her legs were no longer squeezing him tightly, and her arms began to let go of him. Then he could no longer feel her breath against his neck, and the flutter of her heartbeat stopped for good.

He gently placed her head on the pillow and pulled out of her. He licked the blood off of her lips, then arranged her in his arms so he could hold her from behind, and bury his face in her hair.

Spike's erection was quickly fading. Buffy was nothing more than a corpse now–a beautiful one yes–but whatever quality it was that so endeared her to him was gone for now.

He could only hope that when her eyes opened again she would still be his girl.
 

/N Sorry for the long delay in updates. My updates are probably going to be irregular for a while until I get my life back in order.

Chapter 22:

Despite the fact that he had barely slept from worry, Spike woke as soon as the sun went down. As soon as his eyes were open, he began to examine the body that shared his bed.

There was no sign yet that Buffy was anything other than dead. She was pale again, like when he'd first met her. but very very still, which didn't seem like her at all.

He wasn't surprised that she hadn't risen yet. Usually it was several hours past sunset that a new vampire opened her eyes, so there was no reason to think anything was wrong. That didn't comfort Spike. He just wanted this over with. Wanted her back, or to know that he would never have her again, anything to get out of this limbo.

Patience wasn't Spike's strong suit, and sitting in a room with a dead body wasn't very entertaining. He could have left of course. After all, most vampires insisted on burying their fledglings, forcing them to dig and claw their way into a new life.

But Spike couldn't bear the thought of her alone, under the ground. The night before, he'd left her for a few minutes to give orders to his minions and to make preparations for her rising; but he'd quickly returned, feeling guilty for leaving her. He'd even put on some music for her, remembering how she'd hated long silences.

Suddenly he couldn't stand to be near her. He couldn't stand lying there just waiting and worrying about her. He got up, got dressed, and turned on the television, trying to ignore her. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, pretending the girl he was in love with wasn't lying dead behind him, but after a while he couldn't take that anymore either.

He got up and headed towards the bags his minions had brought him the night before. He pulled out a white dress, and a pair of white sandals.

He put the sandals down on the floor by the bed, and threw the blankets off of her body. Then he began to dress her. It wasn't an easy task since her body had stiffened, and he cursed himself for not doing this the night before.

Finally he had her arms through the sleeves of the dress, and he rolled her on her stomach so he could zip up the back. He had the zipper halfway up when he was thrown backwards as her elbow connected with his nose.

Before he could utter a single 'bloody hell', Buffy was kneeling on the floor in front of him. He blinked to clear his vision, and took in the sight before him.

He didn't need to know she was dead to know she was a vampire. Her soft golden eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. The tips of her fangs were visible beneath the pink of her lips, and on her forehead were delicate ridges. Spike thought she was the most beautiful demon he'd ever seen.

"I didn't mean to," she purred as her eyes fixed on the trickle of blood that came from his nose.

"So why did you?" he asked.

She shrugged and licked her lips, "I woke up, and someone was holding me down. It was a reflex."

He whipped away the blood with his hand, and held it out to her. She darted forward, and eagerly licked the blood from his fingers, murmuring with contentment.

"Are you hungry, baby?" he asked even though he knew the answer.

"Yes," she sighed.

He stood up, pulling her up with him. Then he twirled her around so he could finish zipping up the dress.

As the fabric of the skirt settled around her legs she looked down and frowned.

"Why am I wearing a dress?" she asked.

"Something wrong with it?"

He was annoyed. He thought she looked great. The dress was a white satin sheath that clung to all her curves. Over that was draped a translucent white fabric that created strange patters as it shifted over the satin. It was gathered at the neckline, and fitted until it hit her waist. Then the fabric flowed freely swirling around her legs as she moved.

"It's a dress," she repeated. "Besides it's white. Won't I get blood on it?"

"Probably. That's not the point. It's symbolic." He paused. "So I suppose getting blood on it is the point." She looked at him skeptically. "Just trust me. Besides, don't you want to get something to eat?"

She put her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. He could feel her body vibrating as she purred, "I could eat you."

He tisked her. "I've spoiled you already with that taste of blood. No baby, you're going to have to earn that."

She pouted jutting her bottom lip out at him, and he had to fight the temptation to nibble on it. Nibbling would lead to other things, and he remembered how painful a fledgling's hunger could be.

He put his arm around her shoulders instead. "Let's go get you some dinner, kitten."

"Shoes," she said lifting her foot and pointing her toes. "Or are you going to carry me?"

"Both," he said as he scooped her up. She giggled as he carried her two steps to the bed, and then dropped her on it.

He knelt down then and picked up the sandals he'd left there earlier. Then he slipped them on her feet.

She pointed her feet again, and kicked them in the air. "They have bows," she complained.

"Do you have to complain about everything?" he asked, exasperated. Most girls would be delighted with the new clothes. She looked very beautiful and classy. Besides it's not like he'd dressed her up as his own personal sex kitten, although the thought had crossed his mind.

"Well, what if we're attacked? They'll slip off my feet if I try and kick. I don't see what's wrong with the boots you got me," she said nodding towards one of them, which had ended up against the wall. "They're far more practical." She paused and looked around the room. "If I knew where the other one was. . ."

Spike sat back on his heels and sighed. "They don't go with the dress, that's what's wrong with them."

She looked glared at him, "I'm not taking fashion advice from someone who hasn't changed clothes since we left Sunnydale."

"I have too. I just like to stick with black. It's practical."

"So why am I in white and the impractical shoes?" she demanded.

In all his nightmare scenarios her complaining and being so stubborn about her clothes hadn't come up. He decided the best way to deal with it was to ignore it.

He grabbed her hand and hauled her to the feet. Then he pulled her out the door.

"But-" she started.

"Do you want to eat, or argue?" he asked, not waiting for an answer as he continued to drag her along.

She didn't resist and followed him through the factory and outside to his car. She got in the car and crossed her arms, just in case he'd missed the fact that she was annoyed. After a moment or two she fiddled with the radio, until she'd figured out how to turn on the tape deck. She didn't speak, but he could feel her glaring at him.

They drove in silence that way for a while until the inevitable happened.

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked.

"To get you dinner," he replied.

"What about you?" she asked.

He shrugged. He hadn't really thought about it, mostly he'd been thinking about what her first hunt should be. Since he'd left her with her parents, he'd returned to his old feeding habits. He was usually a rather picky eater, preferring pretty young girls. He was less likely to find that where they were going. Still he probably should grab a bite to eat after Buffy had hunted, and he'd seen her reaction to killing.

He glanced over at her. She was still in her game face, and that wouldn't do.

"Can you change?" he asked.

"Change . . ?"

"Back to your human features. Get rid of the bumpies?"

"You don't think I'm pretty?" she asked. He could hear the pout in her voice.

Spike sighed. For someone who denied being a girl, she sure was good at it. "I think you're gorgeous. But you'll probably scare away a potential meal like that."

Buffy knitted her brows and concentrated really hard. Spike forced himself to watch the road and not her, both to keep from crashing and to keep from laughing.

She reached up to feel her face. "It didn't work," she complained.

"You're trying to hard. Relax. Breathe," he instructed her.

"Vampire's don't breathe," she pointed out.

He let out an exasperated breath, just to make his point. She seemed determined to fight him on everything.

"Vampire's don't need to breathe to live," he corrected her. "Doesn't mean we can't do it. Point is, breathing will make you feel more human. Think of it as a meditation. Don't try and fight the demon, just concentrate on moving air in and out of your body."

She regarded him skeptically then she took a deep breath. She made a couple hiccupy noises as she tried to remember how to breathe, but after only a few false starts she was breathing evenly.

Once she got into the rhythm of it, her features smoothed out, her fangs retracted, and her eyes returned to their original soft green.

"I did it!" she beamed.

"Good, cause we're here," he said as he began to parallel park on the side of the street.

"It looks more like nowhere to me," Buffy commented as she peered out the blackened windows of the Desoto.

Spike sighed. It was going to be a long night.
 

Chapter 23:

Spike paced impatiently in the shadows. Had Buffy been any other childe he would have simply taken her to a club, letting her eat whatever poor fool hit on her. But he wasn't sure how the former slayer would take to such a casual killing.

So instead he'd brought her to a run down part of town where he hoped a pretty blond girl would attract the wrong sort of attention from the neighborhood's human denizens.

Unfortunately, so far no one had risen to the bait. As her sire, Spike could sense strong emotions from his childe, so he could feel the hunger and frustration rolling off of Buffy. He was starting to think he'd have to come up with another plan. He wanted her to make the choice the first time she killed, not be driven by pure blood lust.

As he watched her leaning against the Desoto, he thought he could see the flaw in his plan. Despite her general appearance as a helpless girl, her body language told a different story. She didn't look around nervously at both ends of the dark street. She was obviously taking to her improved vampiric senses well, and trusting to them to tell her if anyone approached. There was simply no sign that she was at all nervous or scared.

Of course maybe that didn't matter. It wasn't as if anyone had walked down the street to begin with. The problem, of course, was precisely that these areas of town tended to be controlled by vampires. He had picked this area because he had recently recruited a vampire from the local nest and killed the others. He'd hoped the vacuum he'd created had yet to be filled by any of the undead and that the human predators might be out.

Just as he was about to give up, the sounds of drunken laughter could be heard echoing down the street. He could feel his childe practically quivering with excitement as two young men appeared from around a corner.

First one then the other fell silent as they saw Buffy standing there.

Spike could hear the smile in the voice of one of the men as he and his companion moved in on her. "Hey baby, are you lost?"

"Yes, I'm very lost and alone," she replied just a little too cheerfully.

Spike shook his head at her poor performance. Maybe he should get her acting lessons while they were in L.A. But her victims didn't seem to notice the false tone in her answer. Instead, the two men moved in very close to her, surrounding her.

"Well maybe we can help you with that," the first man said as he reached up to play with the shoulder of her dress.

They were almost pressed against her now, one in front one in back. Only the other day such a display would have filled Spike with anger and jealousy. But the two human males no longer posed a threat to him, at least as long as she didn't play with her food for too long.

That turned out not to be a problem. He could hear her snarl as she let her fangs extend and bit into the neck of the man in front of her. One arm snaked about him to hold him in place as she twisted her body so that she could grab the throat of the man behind her.

The second man didn't even have time to scream as her fingers curled around his throat in a death grip. He struggled for air, scratching and pulling on her unmoving arm as she drained the life out of his friend.

As soon as Buffy had attacked, Spike moved out of the shadows to join her. He stood behind her, placing one arm around her waist and stroking her hair with the other as he whispered words of comfort in her ear. He wasn't sure exactly why he did so. He didn't sense any alarm or panic from his childe, and yet he wanted this to be perfect for her.

She finished feeding off the first man and let his body drop to the pavement.

Buffy turned her head to look at Spike and asked, "Do you want the other one?"

Spike was surprised. Although he knew that she only needed to feed off of one human, most fledglings were so overcome by bloodlust that they glutted themselves on as many victims as they could lay their hands on. But he couldn't sense any bloodlust from her. Whatever she was feeling wasn't strong enough for him to be able to sense it.

"Don't you want him, kitten?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'm full, and you have to feed too, right?"

Still confused, he nodded and took the proffered gift from her. She hadn't quite strangled the man, but he was nearly dead as Spike bit into the bruised neck.

Spike barely registered the taste of the blood as his mind swam with questions about his new childe. Questions he doubted even Buffy could answer.

He fed quickly so he could return his attention to Buffy. He dropped the second man to the ground and lifted up the hand Buffy had held him by.

The man had scratched her arm during his struggles. The scratches were healed, but there was still some blood on her arm where the light wounds had been. Spike lifted her wrist to his mouth and gently licked and kissed the blood away.

She giggled, as his tongue lightly tickled her. He smiled and lifted his head to regard her face. Her mouth was covered with blood. He'd have to teach her how to feed without making such a mess, but for now he didn't mind.

He cradled her cheek with one hand and began to lick the blood from her face. She giggled again and tried to return the favor. Although his face had started out clean, their nuzzling quickly spread the blood from her face to his.

Spike hardly minded. He was delighted at the childish pleasure she was taking in it. Not to mention the first hints of arousal he could sense from her.

He had begun to fear that something had gone wrong with her turning. That she'd come back not only physically dead, but emotionally too. Or worse, that she no longer took pleasure in anything.

After he had freed her from the Master he'd exposed her to sensations she'd never known either in her cell or during her spartan life with Ms. Post. It was partly her fear of being forced to live without feeling alive that had driven her to ask Spike to turn her. Had she come back and not been able to enjoy her unlife it would have been a cruel joy.

But now, under his kisses and his wandering hands she was coming very much alive. Spike was relieved, and as his worries began to drain away, his cock also began to spring to life.

At least until she disappeared. One moment Spike's hands were full of a giggling vampire and the next they were empty. For one panicked moment he thought she had been dusted until his brain registered the sound of her heels quickly clacking away from him.

"Bloody hell," he cursed as he began to run after her.

It made no sense. He couldn't sense any fear or panic from her. She seemed perfectly calm, and he couldn't deduce why she had suddenly run off. He didn't even get a sense of playfulness as if this were one of her games.

Not to mention the fact that if it was a game, she really ought to give him a better chance. She'd completely disappeared. It was only the fact that he was her sire that allowed him to follow her. She had been faster than him when she was the slayer; now she seemed to be twice as fast.

Luckily, since Spike didn't need to breathe, he could keep up a steady stream of curses as he chased after his wayward childe.

After what seemed like an eternity to Spike but was really only a couple of minutes, he caught up to her. She was in an alley fighting another vampire. Although Spike couldn't see her, he could smell and hear a frightened woman huddling somewhere in the alley whimpering as the two vampires fought.

Buffy couldn't have been fighting this other vampire for more than a minute, and yet she already clearly had the upper hand. As Spike watched in confusion, she knocked the legs out from under the vampire. Then she moved behind him and grabbed his head, twisting hard enough to rip his head off, effectively dusting him.

As the dust settled at her feet she began trying to beat it off the front of her white dress.

She looked up at Spike and complained, "This is why white was a bad idea."

"What . . . What are you doing?" Spike asked.

Buffy shrugged. "I heard a scream so . . . " Spike could almost see the realization that she was no longer the slayer dawn on her. "Um, old habit?" she offered as a sort of apology.

"Right well, you shouldn't do that now."

Not knowing what else to do, he moved past her to grab the woman who was huddled behind a dumpster repeating over and over, "Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me."

Spike was just about to bite the woman when Buffy pulled her out of his grasp.

"You can't eat her!" she told him.

"Why not?" he asked. He was suddenly becoming very nervous about where this whole thing was going.

"Because I saved her. I didn't save her so you could eat her," Buffy insisted.

Spike let go of the woman. She was too terrified to go anywhere anyway. Then he placed his hands on Buffy's shoulders and asked her calmly, "Why did you save her?"

"I don't know I just did."

"Do you . . . " Spike stopped, trying to figure out the best way to figure out his new childe. "Do you feel bad about killing those guys back there?"

"No," she said indifferently.

"Did you like it?" he asked hopefully.

"It was okay, I guess. I mean I was hungry, and I guess he tasted pretty good." She looked at him hopefully, as if she was trying to guess what he wanted to hear.

Spike sighed. "But you didn't have fun? Killing didn't get you off at all?"

"Killing the vampire was fun," she said and her face lit up. "Did you see the way I just twisted his head off?!" She was practically bouncing with excitement. "I don't even need stakes anymore. I mean a stake would have been nice, but you know it's not really fair seeing as how I'm really strong and fast and stuff."

Spike put a finger over her mouth to try and quiet her. "Look, pet. You can't go around killing other vampires."

"Why not?" she asked. "It's fun."

He sighed. "Because they're. . . They're like family. Annoying, usually stupid distant family, but family nonetheless."

"What about demons? Can I kill demons?" she asked hopefully.

"No," he told her firmly.

"But why not? Demons and vampires don't like each other."

"Because if you start a demon war, then everyone will be trying to kill us. And we have things to do. Have you forgotten about the Master?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," she replied forlornly. Then her face lit up. "Oh! I can kill him though, right? And he'll have lots and lots of guards."

"Yes, when the time is right we'll kill the Master, and probably a lot of his minions."

"So what are we waiting for? Let's go to Sunnydale. We can get there before the sun comes up. And they'll be all sleepy and tired right before dawn. It'll be perfect."

She started to run back the way they had come, dragging Spike along with her. She was moving just a little faster than he could comfortably keep up with, and he found himself stumbling along behind her. He yanked on her arm to try and stop her.

"What's wrong?" she asked as they stopped.

"Look, Buffy. There's a plan okay. We can't just go breaking down doors and expect to live. That's the whole reason I killed you, remember? Just trust me and stick to the plan, and I promise you lots of violence. Okay?"

"Do you really have a plan?" she asked suspiciously. "Cause you always said you had a plan before but you were really just making it up as you went along."

"Yes, I really have a plan," he snapped back at her. "And it includes us meeting with some vampires tonight, and you not killing any of them. Understood?" He pulled his duster back into place, tugging on the lapels for emphasis.

She stuck out her bottom lip and pouted.

"Buffy?" he demanded sternly.

"Okay, I won't kill anymore vampires tonight," she promised reluctantly.

He nodded and put his arm around her waist and began to walk her back to the Desoto.

For a few moments she was silent, but then he felt her squirm in his arm. "Spike?" she asked.

"Yes?" he replied impatiently.

"What if we're attacked? Can I kill a vampire if it attacks us?"

He sighed, "Yes, you can kill a vampire if it attacks us." Then he stopped and turned her so he was looking her in the eye. "But only if we're attacked. No 'He looked at me funny' or 'He said something mean to me.' It's got to be an actual attack. And not just someone touching you either, understand?" Not that he was going to allow anyone to touch his beautiful new childe.

She nodded reluctantly, and they continued on in silence. He had no idea what was going on in her head.

His musings were interrupted when he had a horrible sense of deja vu. What he'd said to her about being attacked was almost exactly like a speech Angelus had given him in Dublin after Spike had started a bar fight that had turned into a city block fight. As if it were Spike's fault that the Irish were so touchy about the rights of the British to rule over them.

Of course Angelus' version of the speech had been accompanied by beatings and torture, just to make sure Spike understood. Still, Spike couldn't shake the horrific thought that he was turning into his grandsire.
 

Chapter 24:

Spike put his arm around Buffy's waist, growling at the valet who was openly leering at her. Spike tossed the valet the keys to the Desoto, annoyed that in LA even the vampire clubs forced you to valet park.

Then he led Buffy past the velvet ropes where humans were lined up hoping to get into the exclusive club known as Thebes, unaware that the few who were allowed in would never leave alive.

"Remember, no fighting," Spike whispered in Buffy's ear.

"What?! No fighting?! You said no killing before. You never said anything about no fighting."

Angrily he spun her around and gripped both her shoulders tightly. "Listen to me," he growled through gritted teeth. "You. Can't. Start. A. Fight. Here. If you do we'll both be in more trouble than we need right now. So do you think you can act like a good little fledgling who does what her Sire tells her?"

"'M not good," she mumbled stubbornly as she refused to meet Spike's gaze.

"Buffy," he growled as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eye.

"Okay, no fighting," she agreed reluctantly.

Spike took a moment to decide if she meant it. The disappointment he could sense from her reassured him that she did. He put his arm back around her and led her into club.

As soon as they stepped past the bouncer and into the nightclub, Buffy tensed in his arms.

Realizing too late that the former slayer might be uncomfortable walking into a room filled with dozens of vampires he whispered in her ear, "It's okay, baby. You're one of us now."

"No, I'm not," she said in distress.

It was Spike's turn to tense up. He was afraid that next she would say that she still had her soul; that she was still good and she would have to kill him and then herself because she could no longer stand what she was.

"Everyone else is wearing black, and everyone is staring at me," Buffy continued nervously.

Spike had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing with relief.

Then he reassured her by whispering in her ear, "They're looking at you because you're so beautiful. Besides," he added, "that's why we're here. So you can get noticed."

He was about to pull her deeper into the club towards an empty table, when Isis, the owner of Thebes, approached them. She was a tall vampire with a boyish figure. She kept her black hair clipped short and wore long beaded dresses that suggested either something off a tomb wall, or something left over from the twenties. Spike had never really had much use for her, but she was an incredible gossip. Perfect for spreading the news about his new childe.

"I don't believe it," Isis said as she approached them. "Spike with a girl who isn't dinner or Drusilla." She put a well manicured finger under Buffy's chin observing her for a minute before giving her a dismissive "Hmm." Then she turned her attention back to Spike. "I'm sure we could show her a thing or two."

From the moment Isis had approached him and treated him like an old friend, Spike could feel jealous anger rising in Buffy. Isis moved in closer to him, and he quickly grabbed his childe before she could attack the other female vampire.

As his arms tried to restrain the powerful young vampire, he pulled her close so he could grab the skin of her neck with his teeth. The moment his teeth closed on her neck she stopped trying to pull away. He could still sense the anger rolling off of her, but her body instinctively submitted to her sire.

He held her that way for a moment, until he was sure she wouldn't move to attack again. Then he slowly let go of her.

He hadn't bit her deeply, but his fangs had scratched her skin. He was tempted to lick away her blood, but instead he let her powerful blood perfume the air.

Until that moment, the vampires near them had been trying to act as if they weren't watching what was going on. But as the scent of Buffy's slayer/Aurelian blood hit the air, they gave up any pretense and several of them even inched closer.

"You should be careful, Spike," scolded Isis. "Bringing an untrained fledgling here. Especially since the word is that the Master is after you because of something you took from him."

"You'll have to forgive me, Isis," Spike said as he stroked Buffy's cheek and put his arm gently around her waist once more. "I thought my childe was ready for her first appearance. Of course, it isn't easy to break a slayer."

"Slayer?" Isis asked surprised.

Her eyes narrowed as she began to carefully look over the girl she'd dismissed only a moment ago. Her eyes came to rest on the scar that marred Buffy's perfect lips. She'd obviously thought Buffy had been turned to be a sex toy, nothing more. But when vampires chose humans for that purpose, they chose physically perfect ones. And since only a few rare mystical items could scar a vampire she must have had the injury before she'd been turned.

"Well," Isis continued. "You always had strange tastes, Spike. Just don't start any trouble." With that, Isis moved off to mingle among the crowd.

The booth Spike had his eye on earlier now had a couple of vampires sitting at it. He quickly sized them up and decided they were no one of consequence. He led Buffy to the table and a few threats later the other vampires vacated the booth.

"Why'd you tell her about me?" Buffy hissed in Spike's ear as they sat down.

"Because if she knows I've turned you, it won't be long until everyone, including the Master, knows," he whispered back in her ear.

"But. . ." Buffy started. Then Spike could see understanding dawn in her eyes.

If the Master found out that she had been turned, it meant there was another slayer to worry about. That would force him to split his attention.

Spike was also betting that the Master wouldn't credit Spike with having any bigger plan than making the slayer his childe.

At that moment a waiter approached them and asked, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"A scotch on the rocks for me," Spike ordered. "What do you want, luv?"

"I don't know. Something sweet?"

"How about one of those fruity drinks with an umbrella for the lady?" Spike told the waiter.

The waiter snorted. "We don't have umbrellas," he informed Spike in a condescending tone.

Spike grabbed the waiter by his collar yanking him down until his face was even with Spike's. "Well, I suggest you get some, mate. Understand?"

The waiter nodded and Spike released him. After that, the waiter quickly disappeared back into the crowd, muttering as he went.

"How come you get to be violent?" Buffy asked indignantly.

Spike sighed and settled back into the cushions of the booth. He put his arm around her.

"Because I'm your sire," he told her.

Her mouth opened, and he could see another 'but' coming, so he kissed her before she could even begin her next question.

Chapter 25:

"This is stealing, and it's wrong," Buffy tried to say firmly as she wagged her finger at Spike.

The stern effect was ruined as she burst into a fit of giggles a second later and had to clutch the door frame to keep from falling over.

"That's why it's fun, kitten," Spike told her as he helped his inebriated childe into the store. "Besides, I thought you didn't like wearing white."

"Ooo, red," Buffy said as she pushed past Spike.

Spike smiled as his tipsy childe began searching through the clothing racks.

He hadn't meant to get her drunk, the fact was she only had one drink to his three. However, their meals for the evening had been intoxicated, and that tended to affect a vampire more than the regular kind of drinking. Even Spike had a slight buzz going.

He tried to help her pick out new clothes, but she seemed to have some sort of aversion to skirts or dresses, complaining that they were impractical for fighting. Still, considering the tight black leather pants she picked out, he couldn't really complain. Besides, between his slightly intoxicated state and the painfully hard erection she'd given him at the club, he was having a hard time concentrating.

Spike's plan for drawing attention had worked beautifully. It wasn't long before the entire establishment had been buzzing with the news that William the Bloody had turned a slayer.

Spike's serious little slayer had never been the center of attention before, and didn't realized she was the one in which they were all interested in. She assumed that everyone, especially the women, were looking at Spike and became jealous. So she'd crawled onto his lap and begun nuzzling his neck, which had slowly led to her rubbing against him in all the right ways. The fact was she had spent most of the evening covering him with her scent, and marking him as hers.

Spike hardly minded. In fact he hoped news of the slayer's lap dance would make it back to the Master. Hopefully it would lead him to believe that Spike's only purpose in kidnapping and turning the Slayer was his own immediate gratification.

The advantage of having your enemy underestimate you was, after all, one of the first lessons Spike had learned as a vampire. Spike could still remember how naively his childhood 'friends' had invited him into their houses. How they had laughed at him when he'd told them he wouldn't put up with their treatment of him anymore. At least until he'd started impaling them with railroad spikes. That had pretty much put an end to their laughter.

As Spike's mind wandered, Buffy had slowly acquired a small collection of hangers so he suggested she go in the back and try on the things she'd picked out.

"Don't you want to watch me undress?" she giggled.

He shook his head. "It's more fun this way. You go try this stuff on, and then you come out and I tell you how you look."

She shrugged and headed towards the changing rooms. As soon as she left, Spike began trying to figure out how he could hide a leather mini skirt from her, and how to get her to wear it later on. Before his plan had gotten very far, he heard a quiet "Ouch," and then Buffy calling for him.

He made his way through the dark store until he found Buffy in one of the changing rooms, struggling with the zipper on her dress.

"My hair got stuck," she complained. "I told you that dresses were dangerous."

Chuckling, he moved behind her. He had no idea how she'd managed to get so much of her hair stuck in the zipper. On the other hand, he knew better than to question the ability of a drunk to get themselves into trouble.

He began to carefully pull her hair out of the zipper.

"Ouch," Buffy complained again. "Go find some scissors and just cut it," she suggested.

"Never. Just stop squirming and I'll have you free in a moment," he told her.

However, she didn't seem capable of not squirming. More than once he was ready just to yank her hair out, but slowly, strand by strand, he got her free.

To make sure she didn't repeat the incident, he decided it was safer if he undid the zipper the rest of the way himself.

As the dress slipped down over her waist, Spike saw something white fluttering out of the corner of his eye. Both he and Buffy turned automatically, to watch as Buffy's dress magically appeared in the dressing room mirror, as it came free from her body.

Suddenly Buffy pulled away from him and put her hands flat against the mirror.

"I'm gone," she whimpered.

"It's okay, luv," Spike comforted her. Feeling the distress coming from his childe, he put an arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I'm not there either."

But Buffy didn't seem to be aware of him.

"I'm not real," she whispered.

Spike spun her around violently, forcing her to look away from the empty mirror. As soon as she was facing him, his lips crashed down against her as he tried to devour her with a passionate kiss.

At first her body was hard as stone in his grasp. But slowly she began to respond to his kiss. First she relaxed, then her tongue began to counter his own tongue's attacks. Finally, her hands began to grab desperately at his hair, his arms, his back, as she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist.

As soon as she did so, he backed her hard enough against the offending mirror to crack it. Buffy grunted slightly, but she only kissed him harder as the scent of her blood filled the air.

"Doesn't that feel real?" he asked when he finally pulled away from her eager lips.

"Yes," she quietly moaned as she rested her forehead against his.

"Good, that's all that matters, kitten. What you feel."

He took a couple of steps back so that he could set her down, without cutting her feet on the broken glass. Once he set her down, he moved behind her to make sure he hadn't hurt her too badly, and that there wasn't any glass embedded in her back.

He had intended to simply make sure she was okay and then leave to let her change. But once he got behind her and saw the tiny rivulets of blood running down her back and across the pale skin of her bottom, he forgot everything else.

He fell to his knees behind her and began licking the blood from her skin. He started with the smoother skin of her ass. Making sure to lick and suck off even the slightest hint of blood as he slowly worked his way up. The few cuts that hadn't already healed did so as his tongue delicately ran over them.

His hands, which had started on her hips, wandered up her body until they found her breasts. He could feel her nipples harden as his fingertips began to trace them.

She began to twist in his grasp, denying him her sweet essence which was still on her back. His hands moved quickly back to her hips to keep her in place.

She protested, but his mind was too clouded by blood and lust to pay much attention. When she began to squirm in his grasp, his right hand moved down her front, past her curls, and between her legs.

"Oh, Spike," she moaned as his talented fingers began to gently explore her moist folds.

Finding her wet and ready, Spike slipped his fingers inside her without even thinking. At least until he felt her flex the muscles of her tight passage and squeeze his exploring fingers.

His mouth broke away from her back as he threw his head back and moaned, "Fuck," as he imagined what it would be like to have his cock inside her.

Then he started to get up off his knees. He was no longer slowly licking her back, but eagerly cleaning the blood from her body as quickly as he could.

As he did so, his left hand began trying to free his cock from his pants. Unfortunately this wasn't a very easy thing to do while trying to stand up, lick Buffy's back, and finger her.

He stumbled forward, forcing Buffy flat against the wall. She cried out in pleasure as her sensitized clit was jammed against the palm of his hand.

Then she reached behind herself, and began to bat away the hand Spike was using to try and free himself. She took over, letting her fingers traced the outline of his straining cock, as she searched for the zipper.

Her fingers found it, and the next thing Spike knew, his cock was spilling out into her eager hands. She began to stroke his throbbing member and Spike cried out as her strong hands began to pleasure him. To make matters worse, as Buffy's body moved to the rhythm of his fingers thrusting in and out of her, her ass kept hitting the head of his cock.

Spike realized he only had once chance to take control of the situation before he came all over her. He quickly pulled his fingers out of her.

"Hey," Buffy protested, as her hand likewise let go of his erection.

That was fine with Spike, since it gave him the chance to take hold of it so he could thrust it inside her. Buffy threw her head back to scream with pleasure, and Spike used the opportunity to sink his fangs into her waiting neck.

The next thing Spike knew he was holding onto her tiny body with all his strength as she bucked and convulsed around him. It took everything he had not to come as she did her best to milk his cock, but he managed to hold out until her body had stilled beneath him.

Finally her body calmed, and Spike began to slowly thrust in and out of her, while he took small gentle draughts of blood from her throat. He wanted their first coupling after her turning to take time.

Buffy, however, had a different idea. She quickly got her second wind and placed her palms against the wall so she could push back against him. She began moving against him faster, urging him to keep pace with her.

He might have been able to resist. To reassert control over her, had she not started begging him. "Fuck me harder."

After only a few such entreaties, Spike found his body willingly obeying his childe and he began thrusting harder and harder into her, while one hand roamed down her body to tease her engorged clit.

When her second orgasm hit, Spike was helpless to do anything but follow her over the edge.

When it was over the only thing keeping them standing was the wall Spike had sandwiched Buffy against.

Slowly Spike regained control of his limbs and reluctantly pulled away from his Buffy. Stumbling back, he fumbled with his zipper again until he'd put his cock safely back in his pants. Then he began searching through his pockets until he found his cigarettes and lighter.

In the meantime, Buffy managed to roll herself along the wall until she could sit on the small bench in the changing room. As she turned and sat, Spike could see the rather goofy and satisfied smile on her face. That and the way her legs were obviously refusing to function filled him with male pride.

As he took a long drag on his cigarette and looked over the very satisfied ex-slayer, he realized that if they stayed there it wouldn't be long until they started going at it again. It wouldn't have been a problem except that sunrise was only a little more than an hour away, and he didn't fancy being trapped in the store when the owner showed up.

He took a last pull on his fag, then dropped it to the floor and smothered it with the toe of his boot. Then he shrugged out of his duster and wrapped it around Buffy's shoulders.

"What. . ?" she started to ask as he thrust the clothes she'd picked out but never tried on, into her hands.

"We best be going before the sun's up, kitten," he explained.

Then he scooped her up into his arms and began to make his way out of the store and towards his car.

"Can I stay up late . . . err early?" she asked as she rested her head against his chest.

"Why?" Spike asked curiously.

It didn't really matter if he gave his permission or not. As a fledgling she was sure to fall asleep the moment the sun peeked over the horizon, no matter what he said.

"To watch cartoons," she told him.

He put her in the car then got in himself. She pulled his duster tightly about her, and rested her head against the seat. He could tell she was already feeling sleepy.

"I thought slayers didn't watch TV," he teased.

"I'm not the slayer anymore," she yawned. "Besides, my parents said I could. They had these old videos they saved from when I was a kid. I like cartoons. Some of them are silly, like the mouse with the pointy hat and all the brooms. But then there's this one with a big mean looking demon in a volcano, and the sun comes up and he goes away, so that's pretty realistic," she rambled.

Spike chuckled. "Sure, baby. You can watch cartoons." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Yay," she said sleepily as she stretched out on the front seat, and put her head in his lap.

Spike smiled and absently stroked her hair. Then he made a mental note to get up once she was asleep and set the VCR to record some cartoons for her. After all, he was pretty sure he had an hour or so left on his Passions tape and since it was the weekend, there wasn't a new episode to record anyway.