Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where.
Story notes : AU, starts after As We Were and before Hell's Bells.
Warnings : Character Death, Bloodplay
http://www.geocities.com/kallysten_fr/
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com

A/N : This is ultimately a B/S story, but be warned that Angel has a guest role.

* * * * *



Right Time

The hospital was busy, even at this late hour, and a grim smile graced Spike’s lips. Full moon tonight, his luck. Freaks and things that went bump in the night combined, no nurse or doctor would have the time to pay attention to a shadow or two.

He found the room easily. He had been there just once, two weeks before. It had been raining. He had brought her flowers. Snatched from a grave in the cemetery, but she didn’t need to know that. He had watched her sleep, pained by the deep shadows under her eyes. She had awoken in a jump, and her gaze had found him immediately, in the far corner of the room. He didn’t want to crowd her, didn’t want her to believe he was taking advantage of the situation. She had said it often enough for him to begin to accept it, however hard it was.

It was over.

But then, she had given him the world. She had smiled.

They had made small talk, like civilized people did. Not too much, not too loud, she was so tired. Soon, the gang had intruded. The whelp had practically yelled at him to go away. And he had. Not wanting to make a scene in front of her, he had returned to the shadows where he belonged, leaving her to the light that used to be hers.

The doctors had tried to operate three days later. He had heard about it from the Nibblet. He had found the kid crying in his crypt one night as he was returning from patrol. Someone had to do the job after all, until she was well enough to return to slaying.

Except she wouldn’t.

He had listened as Dawn told him about the operation. The surgeon had found that the tumor was inoperable, too far advanced already to dare cut and slice. The brain is not something to play with. They were giving her experimental drugs, but it didn’t seem to do any good. They thought she would last two months, at most. Of course, that was without counting on Slayer strength. She would probably last longer, he told himself. But she would be just a shadow of herself, nothing like the woman full of life he loved.

He had brought the kid back home and stayed with her until sunrise was near, like he had often done the summer before, when Buffy was gone. Returning to his crypt, he had staked a vampire that was just getting out of her grave. A kindness, really. The poor thing would have burned in the sun
only a few minutes later if not for his stake. That’s when he first got the idea.

Days and nights, he had thought about it. It was a crazy plan, of course, like all his plans always were. Still, it was the only way. She couldn’t leave again.

Very carefully, he had thought of all the details. He had stolen a car, bitterly regretting the long gone DeSoto, and blackened the windows. He had also ‘borrowed’ a cell phone, spending the better part of a day learning how to use the damn thing. He had found the perfect place, an abandoned hotel by the ocean side, and readied a room.

Then he had waited.

He couldn’t act too soon, or she might be able to resist. He had to wait for the right time.

It came faster than expected.

Again, Dawn had brought the news. She had come in the middle of the afternoon this time, her eyes swollen and red from having cried too much. “It’s the end,” she had told him. “If you want to see her again, it’s now. She said she’d like to say goodbye to everyone.”

So, there he was, in front of the dark room, watching through the door’s window. The Bit was asleep in an oversized chair, but what interested him was the slip of a girl in the bed. So thin, so pale already. Noiselessly, he opened the door and slipped in, making sure Dawn was still asleep. He carefully unhooked the IV that plunged into her arm. Taking his duster off, he wrapped her it in before taking her in his arms.

Very briefly, she opened her eyes. Very softly, she said his name. Very faintly, she smiled.

He cradled her against his shoulder. She weighted nothing, already a shadow.

He left the note in the middle of the bed, and paused to look at Dawn.
“Everything will be fine Nibblet,” he promised quietly. “Don’t worry.”

* * * * *

Dawn opened her eyes in time to see the Vampire leave, carrying the Slayer against his chest. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, but this time, behind the grief and despair, shone a faint light of hope. She had lost her mom already, she couldn’t lose Buffy too, not to the very same thing, not so soon after losing her last summer.

Whatever the price.

Part 2

His Gifts


Tears filling her eyes, Willow read the letter again before handing it to Giles. Dawn had brought it to her, coming back from the hospital alone in the middle of the night. Without a word, she had given her the letter and gone to bed. On the envelope, Willow Rosenberg was written in an elegant cursive. The letter inside was from the same hand. It wasn’t signed, but the first word had told her who its author was.

“Red, I give you a day to get the soul curse ready. If you can alter it to remove the happiness clause, I’m sure the Slayer will be grateful. If not, she’ll learn to deal with it. I’ll call to tell you when to cast the spell. Don’t lose time trying to find us. You won’t, or at least not in time. The best you can do is to make sure she gets her soul back as soon as possible. Don’t lose time either plotting my undeath. I have no doubt she’ll dust me as soon as she’s strong enough. But then she’ll be back, and that’s all that matters. Get ready and wait for my call.”

Willow heard Giles mutter a string of curses, and a part of her mind was shocked that he knew such words, let alone would say them out loud. The Englishman had returned two weeks before, when Buffy’s headaches had turned out to be something serious. He hadn’t slept much since. None of them had. She looked at him, her eyes squarely in his, and braced herself.

“We need an orb of Thesulah” she said flatly.

She expected him to protest, to demand that they hunt the two blondes down before it was too late, to tell her she couldn’t do any magic. Instead, he nodded. “We should have a couple of them in stock at the store. Do you think you can alter the curse ?”

She relaxed, ever so slightly. Of course, he didn’t know she was not supposed to do any magic. No one had told him. There had been more dire matters to think of since his return.

“I can try. I know much more now than I knew when I last did the spell. And I’m stronger too. Everything will be fine.”

‘Except for the part where Buffy dies,’ she added mentally.


* * * * *


Before morning, Spike was parking the stolen car in front of the hotel he had picked. As he carried Buffy inside, he was tempted to do it right then. She was so weak, he wasn’t sure she’d last until night. But there was one last gift he wanted to offer her before he took her life.

She slept most of the day and he just watched her, wondering how much drugs the sodding doctors had put in her system. Finally, as evening came, she woke and called his name.

“Spike…”

So faint, that voice. So feeble. As if life had deserted it already.

“Yes pet ?”

“Where are we ? Why did you bring me here ?”

“I can’t let you die, Buffy. Not again.”

Her eyes widened a little.

“What… What do you mean ?”

He smiled at her, a gentle smile, not his usual smirk. A smile that said she knew what he meant, and he knew she knew.

“I want to show you something,” he said as he rose from his chair. Coming to the french window, he pulled the curtain away, careful to stay out of the light that poured inside. The hotel had many rooms, some of them better than this one, but none with a better view. Sunlight bathed Buffy, and her lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as she looked through the glass.

Part 3

Blood





If someone had asked her to describe the scene, she would have been able to find only one word.

Beautiful.

The sun was slowly sliding toward the horizon, toward the ocean, giving birth to a symphony of colors in it descent. Vaguely, it reminded her of a sunrise, the one she had seen from Glory’s tower before plunging to her death. It was fitting, since she was about to die. She understood why he was showing that to her. A simple thing, really, just a sunset. But the last she would ever see if he had his way.

When the sun had completely disappeared behind the water, her eyes returned to Spike. “I won’t let you turn me,” she said with as much force as she could manage to summon.

“I’m not asking your permission luv,” he replied gently. “It will be easier if you don’t fight, but if you do you’re no match against me. Not now.”

He moved to her side and his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She grabbed his hand between both of hers. “Spike please…”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes not leaving hers. “Come on, luv. You’re not the begging kind, we both know it.”

“Why ?” she whispered. “You say you love me. You know what I lost when Willow brought me back. And now you want to rob me of it again.”

Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. He reached with his free hand and dried them tenderly.

“I do love you, Buffy. More than anything. And don’t worry, you will go back to Heaven. Just not quite yet. Too many people need you here.”

“You mean you need me,” she accused. “That’s the most selfish thing you could ever do. The worst thing you could do to me !”

She let go of his hand, not wanting to touch him any longer. Unexpectedly, he produced a stake from behind his back. He seemed to examine it for a few seconds, then placed it on the bedside table. Just out of her reach.

“For after,” he said quietly. “As soon as you feel better, just grab it and stake me. I won’t fight back, I promise. But you will get better, luv. I promise that too.”

She understood, from the light in his eyes, that this was it. Her time was up. The Vampire Slayer was about to become a Vampire herself.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. She tried to push away, but it was soon evident that she was too weak to escape him, even though he wasn’t holding her very tight. She stopped struggling. Her mind had given up, but her body was completely tense, as frozen. He felt it and started stroking her back in a soothing motion.

“Relax, luv. I’ll be as gentle as I can be. Can’t promise it won’t hurt, I would be lying. But if you let go, it can feel good too. Please. Trust me.”

The softness of his voice, more than the words themselves, lulled Buffy into a half sleep. Dimly, she felt his cool lips on her neck, pressing light kisses to her skin. He had kissed her like this before. She had not given him many opportunities, but when she had, he had shown a tender side she would never have suspected. Words came to her lips, however she didn’t know if she actually said them or only intended to. “I’m sorry… William.”

She had said that before, when she had broken up their relationship. But why was she sorry now ? He was the one who was…

Biting.

The fangs broke her skin, hot knife sinking in butter, and she cried out in pain. Her hands clutched his back, a last bit of her strength returning just as life was leaving her. She could feel her heart beating faster as his mouth sucked on her blood, so hard and yet so gentle at the same time. Images and sensations flashed through her mind.

The Master. Pain. Fear. Despair.

Angel. Fear, for his life, not hers. Anger. Pain and pleasure mixed. It had been a violent experience, but also, something she barely admitted to herself, a very erotic one.

Dracula. Eroticism again, but caused by the thrall. No fear. No excitement.
No feelings.

And now Spike. She wasn’t afraid. She had never been afraid of him. The pain was gone, replaced by the pleasure he had promised. For the first time since the headaches had started, she was free of pain. And for the first time since she had broken up with him, she felt… loved.

Her brain screamed that he was killing her. Her heart replied that this was the most loving thing she had shared with him. With anyone. She had the sudden urge to tell him. Let him know that she felt it, felt his love in that act of death. His name passed her lips, barely a whisper.

Why was it so hard to talk ? So hard to move ? So hard to… think ?

As oblivion took hold of her, she was only aware that his lips had left her skin, and she wanted to weep at the loss.


* * * * *


Buffy stopped struggling, but her body was a rock in his arms. He started rubbing her back, trying to comfort her.

“Relax, luv. I’ll be as gentle as I can be. Can’t promise it won’t hurt, I would be lying. But if you let go, it can feel good too. Please. Trust me.”

She seemed to hear his plea, and relaxed against him, just a little, not enough yet. He rained kissed on her neck, against old bites scars. He wasn’t too sure who had bitten her before, and he didn’t want to know, not really. Whoever they were, they were the past. He was here. Now.

He barely heard her talk, and it took a second to his brain to make sense of the single word loud enough to recognize. His name. His old, human name. Was it a call to his human side ? She had called him that, before, the second time he had lost her. But he wouldn’t lose her again.

He slipped into game face and sunk his fangs into her paper-thin skin. He winced at the pain in her cry, but started drawing on the blood, all his senses focused on her.

Strangely, no fear was coming from her, neither in her scent nor in her blood. The barest touch of arousal. But, mostly, a sense of acceptance. Was it death she was accepting, or his gift ?

Her heart, which had been pumping so furiously, began to slow down. He heard her say his name again. Spike, this time. Just before the beating stopped, he pulled away from her neck. Carefully, he laid his body against hers, and cradled her head in the crook oh his arm. He bit his free wrist and pressed it to her half open mouth.


* * * * *


He watched her a long time, pale and immobile. It reminded him of the last time he had seen her lifeless. He had cried then. He felt very much like crying now. But it wasn’t the right time to turn into a bloody poof.

Before doing anything, he drained two of the blood bags he had brought. They were cold and tasteless. He doubted anything would ever taste the same after sampling her blood. Still, he needed to feed. He had given back all that he had taken from her. He didn’t want to just make her a vampire, he wanted her to be a strong vampire, just like she had been a strong
human. Under other circumstances, that would have meant he wanted her as
his Childe. Wanted to train her, instruct her, be her mate. But that couldn’t be. She was going to be a vampire with a Slayer’s soul. And now he had to make sure she would indeed get that soul.

He estimated that the change was advanced far enough. No way to know for sure, it was different for everyone. Still, with the large quantity of blood he had given her, she probably would awaken quickly. He dialed the number of the Summers’ house, but the person who answered wasn’t the one he expected.

“SPIKE ! What in Hell do you think you’re doing ?”

“Shut up Peaches and let me talk to Red.”

“Are you insane ? What…”

Annoyed, Spike hung up. He took a few minutes to smoke a cigarette, then dialed the number again. This time, the Witch answered.

“Ready to cast your spell ?”

“As ready as I can be considering the ultimatum you gave me.”

“As long as you’re prepared, it’s enough. Just do it now so she’ll have her soul when she wakes. Bye.”

“Wait.”

“What ?”

“Tell her there’s no loophole in her soul, ok ?… Spike ? You heard me?”

“Yes I heard. Did you give the poof a permanent soul yet ?”

“Uh… Not yet. But I will.”

“Just take care of Buffy first, girl.”

Sunrise was near. Not knowing when Buffy would wake, Spike closed the curtains again, effectively blocking out all light. Then he crawled in the bed next to her, taking off his shirt to be more comfortable. He held her still body to his. So cold. He had always marveled at how well she could warm his skin with her body heat, but not any more. As he left himself drift into sleep, a thought crossed his mind. This time, when she would wake, she wouldn’t have to claw her way out of a coffin.

Part 4

Awakening


It was hunger that woke her. She had the taste in her mouth. Coppery. Sweet. She could smell it, on the table, even through the plastic of the bag. She could feel it, close, very close, just behind the pale skin against which her head was resting. Slowly, she moved, until her mouth was pressed to his neck. A part of her told her she was ready, the game face already out. So she did what her instinct commanded, and bit.

He moved under her, and her hand shot to his head, holding him in place, making sure he couldn’t pull away. But it was not his intention. He merely adjusted their bodies to a more comfortable position, one arm wrapped round her waist, the other hand playing in her hair.

She drank until the hunger was gone. It took a while, as she hadn’t pierced a major blood vessel, but every mouthful of the thick liquid was like a symphony of colors exploding behind her closed eyelids. Finally, she pulled away from his neck, after giving a last lap at the punctures she had created.

“I hate you,” she muttered, resting her cheek on his chest.

“And I was all you had, pet.”

He kept stroking her hair, and half of her wanted to scream at him to stop it. The other half would scream if he did stop.

“How do I get rid of them?” she asked after a moment.

“Get rid of what?”

“The fangs and bumps.”

“Matter of concentration, luv. Picture yourself putting on a mask. That’s your human face. It is always easier to shift to game face, but if you concentrate the human mask will come.”

It took her a few tries before she felt the fangs retract. Gingerly, she touched her forehead, satisfied to find it smooth.

“How could you do that to me?” she mumbled against his skin. “I was the Slayer. Not a killer.”

His fingers paused in her hair for a brief instant before resuming the gentle stroking. “You’re still the Slayer, luv. And not a killer. Do you feel like going out and killing to feed?”

She frowned at his words. “No, I don’t want to kill. But I just bit you. If you were not already dead, I could have killed you.”

“Pet, don’t you see it? Why do you think you worry about killing? You have your soul, luv. Your shiny and pretty Slayer soul.”

She raised her head from him and tried to see his face. It was dark, but she realized she could see pretty well, even if she wasn’t in game face.

“How?” she asked simply.

“Red. I asked her to do that gypsy spell for you. Except that the clever girl improved it so you don’t have to worry about getting too happy.”

His hand slid out of her hair and came to cup her face. Why did he look so sad suddenly?

“And before you ask, yes, she’s going to give the big poof an upgraded version of his bloody soul.”

She rested her cheek on his chest again, and his fingers returned to her hair.

Angel. She was just like him, now. A vampire with a soul. Except she didn’t have countless murders to feel guilty for, thank God for that.

“I couldn’t lose you again,” Spike said almost too low for her to hear.

First it had been Xander, reanimating her minutes after she had drowned. Then Willow, bringing her back months after her passing. And now Spike. What was it with the people who loved her? Why couldn’t they just let her go? She had fought enough, longer than most Slayers. Didn’t she deserve to rest at last?

And yet… she felt no anger toward him. She wasn’t happy to be a vampire, but she wasn’t mad at him for changing her. Her eyes settled on the stake on the table, and she remembered his words. ‘For after’.

“Spike… What did you do to me?”

His voice was slightly amused when he answered, and she would have sworn he was smirking. “I thought it was obvious by now, luv. I turned you.”

“I mean, why don’t I want to stake you?”

“You don’t? Good. I don’t want to be staked.”

He was just avoiding replying.

“Answer me.”

“What do you know about vampires’ turning, luv?”

Damn. Where was that Slayer handbook now that she needed it?

“Uh… you drain me, I drink your blood, I die, I wake up and I’m a vampire?”

He laughed a little, very softly, barely enough to make his chest tremble.

“In a nutshell, that’s it. But there’s a variable in there. Two, actually. The first is how old the vampire who turns you is. How strong. The other is how much of his blood he gives you to drink. It makes all the difference between having nothing but the urge to feed, or being able to control the mask and the demon. The difference between a minion and a Childe.”

He finished his explanation in a whisper, as if not wanting to say the last words out loud.

“You made me your Childe?” she asked, hesitating on the unfamiliar word.

“Yes luv.”

“So that’s why I don’t feel like killing you?”

“I guess.”

He shifted under her, and she almost would have said he was fidgeting.

“Luv, I gave you enough blood to make you strong, so you won’t be torn between the bloodlust and the soul. You not wanting to stake me wasn’t part of the equation, you have to believe me.”

Weirdly, she did believe him.

Out of the blue, tears came to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, slow but steady trickle. Spike’s arms moved around her, pulling her body up until her face was next to his on the pillow.

“Everything will be ok, luv,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

Comforted by his words, mentally and nervously exhausted, she fell asleep against her Sire.

* * * * *

It wasn’t the first time she had gone to sleep in his arms, but it was different this time around. It took him a little while to realize why.

No sounds.

The usual rhythms of her breathing and heart, so comforting to him, were gone forever. But she was there. And it was all that counted.

He was surprised not to be dust already. In truth, he hadn’t thought that the bond between them would be so strong so soon. He could feel it in all his being, the need to touch her, feel her skin, look at her, just be with her. He craved all of this before, and now it was just so much more powerful. He wondered whether it was the same for her.

Still, that wasn’t what he had turned her for, and he wouldn’t take advantage of it. She was Buffy, his Slayer, not a toy created for his enjoyment. And something else was not to be forgotten. The bloody poof and his bloody soul were waiting in Sunnyhell. Waiting for her.

The day passed too fast.

Without waking her, he managed to grab and drain a couple more blood bags on the table. He had brought them for her, but he was the one who needed them right now after she had fed from him. That had been unexpected. He wondered if, no, he hoped that she’d do it again.

When dusk came, he felt her stir a little in his arms. She was awake, he was sure of it, but still silent and immobile, her face nuzzled against his shoulder. It took her a long moment to decide herself, but at last he felt her fangs slowly sink into his flesh. Better aim this time, he thought absently. Larger vein.

Again, he let her take as much as she wanted. As much as she needed. She would have time later to discover the joys of bagged blood.

“You know luv,” he said absently when she stopped sucking, “some vampires
would dust you for what you just did.”

Angelus would have. Or he would have taught her a lesson she would never
have forgotten. Like he hadn’t.

“What did I do?” she asked, confused.

“You drank from an older vampire without an invitation.”

He felt her body get tense against his and stroke her back lightly.

“That’s ok, luv. You have a permanent invitation as far as I’m concerned. Just letting you know it’s customary to ask for permission. The poof used to be pretty stuck on customs.”

Just thinking about her lips on his Sire made him want to dust himself. But he had no illusions about what would happen when they returned to Sunnyhell.

“Ready to go home pet?”

She sighed, and for just a second he forgot she didn’t need to breath.

“I’m not ready, but I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Part 5

The way to Hell


Before they left the hotel, Buffy took a shower and put on the clothes he had brought for her. Sensible, comfortable clothes, she noted, bemused. Nothing too fancy, too sexy or too dark. Regular stuff from the time she was an almost regular girl. Strangely, the thought of the vampire snooping in her closet and drawers was more endearing than annoying.

She was trying to be mad at him, really, she was trying. But she couldn’t make herself hate him. Yes he had been selfish, incredibly so, but he had thought of her too, arranging for her soul to be returned to her immediately. What kind of monster would she have been without it? She didn’t want to find out, ever, and hopefully she never would.

She was surprised when Spike gave her a cell phone and suggested that she call home, just to reassure them all and let them know she’d be back soon. She contemplated the phone for a long moment, not deciding until she was in the speeding car.

“Hey Dawnie.”

“Buffy? Oh my God it’s really you? How are you?”

“I’m fine, just fine.”

Well, as fine as she could be now that she was dead. Or rather, undead.

“Are you coming home?” the teen asked hesitantly.

“Yes, we’re on the way right now.”

“Spike is with you? Can I talk to him just a second?”

An amused smile came to Buffy’s lips. Why talk to the yesterday-dying-now-undead big sister when a sexy vamp was around? She gave the phone to Spike. “Dawn,” she said simply.

Driving with one hand - good thing they were already dead, actually, considering the way he drove - he took the phone from her.

“Hi Nibblet.”

There was a brief pause, then the vampire spoke again, very softly. “Yes Dawn. She is still the same Buffy you know. A bit fangy at times and she won’t go sunbathing with you, but other than that, just the same.”

His words made her wonder. Was she really the same? She hadn’t staked Spike, and certainly she should have. A few days ago, she would have. Or not?

She realized he was holding the phone in front of her face, and took it. Holding it to her ear, she cast a glance at him. He was suddenly looking very tense.

“Hello?”

“Buffy…”

Her mind almost froze as she heard her name whispered by that so familiar
voice. He was there. At her home. Waiting for her.

“Angel.”

“Oh Buffy… How do you feel?”

Weird question, considering the circumstances. And weirdly enough, she felt…

“Alive. That’s how I feel. Funny, uh?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Spike’s head turn to her, but didn’t have time to see the look on his face before his gaze returned to the road.

“Listen Angel, we’ll talk when I’m back, ok? I’ll be home in…”

“An hour,” Spike supplied.

“An hour,” she repeated for Angel’s benefit. “Tell Dawn I love her.”

“I will. And Buffy, I… “

“Bye,” she said quickly, interrupting him. She fumbled with the tiny buttons to end the call and closed her eyes. She couldn’t hear the words, not now, not by phone. She needed to see him, she needed him to see her as what she was now. Then the words could come.

Having nothing else to think of, she began to feel it again. The hunger. Just beginning to lurk, not too strong yet, but present.

“Am I going to want blood all the time?” she asked, upset at the thought.

“The first few days are the worst,” he replied. “You’re hungry again?”

She nodded.

“Maybe it has to do with you being sick before I… Your body is repairing itself I suppose. Which requires more blood. There’s some in the duffel bag. Or…”

His voice trailed as his eyes shot to her. A permanent invitation, he had called it.

She fumbled in the back seat for the bag, and retrieved a blood package. She turned it in her hands, looking at the dark red liquid that looked so unappealing.

“Where did you get human blood?” she asked as she noticed the inscription on the package.

“’Worked a deal with Sunnyhell’s hospital. I take their expired blood, and they don’t have to worry about contaminated waste.”

She frowned at the revelation. “They actually give it to you?”

“Yes luv they do. And they’re clever enough not to ask what I do with it. I’ll introduce you to my favorite doc if you want.”

She thought about it for a few seconds. The idea of drinking human blood was a bit disturbing. The idea of drinking any blood was disturbing. Yet, drinking from Spike felt natural. Normal. Even knowing that his blood came from the same bag that grossed her out.

Repressing a sigh. She slipped the untouched package back in the bag. She didn’t say a word, but he heard her anyway. He wiggled out of his coat, throwing it on the back seat, and rolled his shirt’s sleeve up his right arm. He presented the inside of his wrist to her, that simple gesture making him look oddly vulnerable. She traced the tender scars that marred his pale skin with a finger.

“Is that where you made me drink from first?”

“Yes luv.”

She felt the tears come to her eyes and tried to fight them back.

“I didn’t want to be a vampire, Spike. You were wrong to do that.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?” The sobs finally broke in her voice.

The tires screeched and left marks on the asphalt as he braked so hard that the car came to a stop in a couple of seconds only. He turned to her, not just his head but his whole body. His hands took hers, holding them tight. She shuddered at the touch. This simple contact was calming.

“I love you Buffy. Many people love you. Do you have any idea how amazing you are? You change everyone you touch. Bring the best out of them. That disease… That wasn’t a way for you to die. You deserve better. You’re a fighter. You deserve to die fighting. Anything else would be an insult to you.”

She pulled her hands out of his grip and slapped him, but her heart was not in it. “You killed me when I couldn’t fight back,” she cried. “That wasn’t a fighter’s death. That was an insult. That was…”

“You told the poof you feel alive. Was it a lie?”

Again, he captured her hands. “Answer me, Slayer!”

“No,” she sobbed. “It wasn’t a lie.”

“Ok. As long as you feel alive, that’s what you will be. And the day you feel dead inside, you’ve dusted enough vamps to know it’s quick. Just do me a favor and stake me first. But until then, luv, you’re going to live. You’re going to be a big sister for the Bit. A friend for the bloody Scoobies. And a hero for the rest of us. If you have anger to work out, I’m here. Punch me. Beat me up. Dust me. I did this to you, and never until I’m ashes will I regret it. And if you feel alive, neither should you.”

Gently but insistently, he pulled her to him until she was sitting across his lap. He cradled her like a child, and dimly, she felt like one. His child. His Childe. One of his hands traveled along her arm, up to her hair, and pushed her head down to his neck. She resisted a few seconds, then gave in and took what he was offering. It wasn’t just blood. It was comfort. Power. Love. Life.

He hissed, and the demon in her knew why. She was taking too much. She
wouldn’t kill him that way, but he would be weak, too weak to drive.

Without lifting her lips from his skin, she pushed her hair aside before tangling her fingers in his bleached locks. He took the hint, his lips brushing against the healed scars he had left… was it only the night before?

She barely felt it when he pierced her skin, absorbed as she was in his blood. But when he started to suck, it felt incredible. His suction matched hers, same rhythm, same intensity. Buffy’s head started spinning, not from weakness, just the opposite. Too much power. Too much life flowing between them, as dead as they were. Too much…

Her mouth left his neck to let out a piercing moan. Her body was shaking, her mind was blank. Just as she was calming down, he took a last deep pull,
triggering a second mind-shattering orgasm.


* * * * *


Spike stroke her back for long minutes, a rhythmic, comforting motion. He still couldn’t believe he had fed from her. That hadn’t been part of the plan. Not at all. That was a Sire / Childe bonding thing, and they couldn’t have that. And still they had. He should have been able to resist, damn it. He wasn’t a simple fledgling, unable to control the bloodlust. He was a bloody Master Vampire.

And she was the woman he loved.

How could he have resisted?

That was why he had turned her, after all, unable to face unlife without her presence. Selfish, she had said. Necessary, he silently replied. As necessary as breathing was to a human. As necessary as blood for a vampire. Without her, he couldn’t be.

Eventually, she moved back to her own seat, to his deep regret.

“They’re waiting for us,” she said in a rasp voice.

“No luv,” he corrected softly. “They’re waiting for you.”

He started the car again, and sped their way back to hell.

Part 6

The ones who loved her


Buffy’s hand hesitated on the door’s handle. She turned back toward the street, but Spike had already driven away. She was a bit annoyed with him for that. He had made her what she was, he should have been at her side as she returned home. At least, he had said he would be in his crypt if she wanted to talk to him. Or stake him.

She was still in front of the door, stalling, when it opened, revealing Dawn. The teen squealed in delight and threw herself into Buffy’s arms. Tears came down the oldest Summers cheeks. She felt like she hadn’t seen Dawn in years, even if it had only been a couple of days. Finally, Dawn pulled back and gave her an almost shy smile.

“It’s really you, Buffy?”

“Yes Dawnie. It’s really me.”

She tried to step into the house, but was stopped by an invisible barrier.

“Almost me,” she muttered.

That was a grim reminder that the house’s mortgage was far from being paid off. She pushed the thought away, she would have time to worry about money later.

Dawn realized what had happened and invited her in, grabbing her hand and leading her to the living room. Buffy froze when she realized they were all there. All the persons who counted in her life.

Willow was the first to step to her, a question plain on her worried face.

“Yes Will, it worked. Thank you.”

The redhead hugged her, and for an instant it was as if nothing had changed. But everything had, of course. Her acute awareness of the girl’s
blood flowing just a nibble away was just one of the things that had changed.

“Giles and Tara helped me,” Willow said with a sheepish grin. “And we changed the curse so no happiness clause for you.”

Buffy nodded, smiling gratefully at Tara, who returned a warmth smile of her own. She forced herself to meet Xander’s eyes. Xander, the one among them who hated vampires with passion, with or without soul. He smiled to her too, hesitantly, unmoving from his spot on the sofa, Anya’s hand clutched into his. She understood the message. He wouldn’t be hugging her any time soon. But he wouldn’t stake her either.

“Hey Buffy, glad to see you’re better.”

“Yeah, thanks Anya.”

There, almost done. She only had two men left to confront in her new condition of vampiress.

Her gaze sought first the youngest of the pair.

“Hello Giles,” she said quietly.

His eyes were filled with tears behind his glasses, but a faint grin was on his lips.

“Buffy…’

In two strides, he was hugging her awkwardly, and she felt sobs rise in her throat. “I tried to stop it, Giles, I promise I did. But I was just too weak. I’m so sorry.”

He patted her back gently, and when he spoke she realized he was crying too.

“Buffy dear, you have nothing to apologize for. No one blames you, really. We are all glad you came back to us. Even… changed.”

She pulled away from him, and as she looked into his eyes, she knew he meant it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Her gaze swept around the room. They all were smiling and crying at the same time, to various degrees. Except for Angel. At last, she made herself look at him, and she saw what he was trying very hard to hide. The anger. No, the rage. Sparks of gold were dancing in his eyes. He was ready to kill.

She walked to him and tentatively placed a hand on his chest. He shuddered
at the touch.

“If anyone stakes him,” she said loud enough for all present to hear, “it will be me and no one else.”

Determination flashed through Angel’s face, and she knew she had read him correctly. He was two seconds away of running out to hunt Spike down.

“You can’t ask that from me,” he growled.

“And yet I do. He is mine to deal with, Angel.”

His eyes broke contact with her, sliding down her neck to the puckered marks. He touched them lightly with a finger, much as she had touched Spike’s earlier.

Abruptly, he pulled her against his chest, holding her tight. She let out a sigh. It had been so long since he had last held her like that. Possessively.
She rose to her toes to brush her lips against his. Just brush, really, nothing more…

Before she knew it, their tongues were engaged in a frantic battle, both of them oblivious to the fact that they were in the middle of the living room, with half a dozen people watching them.

“Uh, guys,” came Willow hesitant voice. “You might want to wait until I do the new curse on Angel tomorrow before you… hmm… you know…”


* * * * *


To everyone’s relief, the couple separated, the vampire and Buffy looking equally embarrassed.

Willow shook her head slightly at her thought. Buffy was a vampire too. She had to get used to it, even though it was hard to believe. She really didn’t look any different at all. A little pale, maybe, but she had been pale since she had been admitted to the hospital.

It was one of these awkward moments, when no one knows what to say. They had talked a lot before she arrived, wondering whether the curse had worked, whether she would have staked Spike, whether they would need to stake her. It had been a gloomy conversation. It had reminded Willow of her doubts as she had brought her friend back to life. She had been afraid then that she would be changed by the experience, that she wouldn’t be the same Buffy they knew. Things had turned out rather ok, except for the Heaven glitch. Hopefully, things would be ok this time too. Even if she was changed.

Buffy the vampire. It just sounded so weird.

Willow listened absently as the three men tried to convince Buffy to let them dust Spike once and for all. She could understand all too well why he had done what he had done. After all, she had been in his place just a few months back. She had expected someone to make the comparison, but thankfully no one did. She kept thinking of his letter ‘She’ll be back, and that’s all that matters’. Hadn’t she said something like that, once?

Eventually, it was time for everyone to go get some rest. Xander and Anya left, hand in hand, with Tara whom they were driving home. Willow hadn’t seen Xander so upset in… never. She had never, ever seen Xander so upset, and they had known each other all their lives. Anya seemed rather unworried, and Willow had a pretty good idea why. The wedding was the following week. Nothing would take her mind of it, and certainly not a little thing like Buffy becoming a vamp. After all, even a vamp could be a bridesmaid.

Before she retreated to her room, the Witch witnessed some more lips smooching between Angel and Buffy as he was leaving the house. She felt a little guilty. She needed to recuperate a little before she could cast the spell for him. But she had another reason to feel at fault. She should have thought of Angel’s curse a long time ago. She knew so much now, altering it had been a simple matter, especially with Tara and Giles’ help. She could have permanently anchored his soul months ago, if she had just thought of it. Weird that, of all people, it had been Spike who had gotten the idea first.

Part 7

To sleep


It was just a few hours before sunrise. Spike was lying on his bed, clad only in a pair of black jeans, staring at the ceiling on the crypt. He couldn’t help but think of her. Granted, she was all he could think of before, so it wasn’t much of a change to him. Several times since he had left her in front of her house, he had almost gone back to her. Not even to talk to her, just to see her. Watch her from outside, as he had done so often. But he was
afraid - no, the Big Bad was not afraid - he was irritated by the idea that she would be with the poof. These two had been waiting to be together for years, and now he, Spike, had made it possible. Ok, so the Witch had. But whose idea had it been ? A great plan, that. Him and his bloody plans… He should have forgotten the whole soul thing, and left town with her. Left the country even. Teach her to hunt with him. Make her his Childe in all possible ways. Make her love him like only a Childe could love a Sire. He should have. But he hadn’t. That wouldn’t have been his Buffy. And it was Buffy he wanted, not just any female vamp.

The door of the crypt creaked open, and briefly he thought that one of her chums had come to dust him. But it was her. Even without looking at her, he knew. Had she changed her mind about staking him ?

Silently, she came to his side. He looked at her hands first. No stake. Then his eyes traveled up her body. She was wearing a coat on top of pajamas. PJ’s covered with kittens. He almost smiled at that. Finally, his gaze reached her face. Her eyes were red.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she mumbled.

He opened his arms to her. Shedding her coat, she climbed in the bed next to him. He held her tight, just like he had the night before.

“It’s alright, luv. Everything will be alright. You’ll see.”

Before long, she was asleep, her cheek resting on his unstirring chest.


* * * * *


Dawn ran all the way from Revello Drive to the cemetery. She hadn’t told them where she was going, they wouldn’t have let her.

The night before, as they were all waiting for Buffy, they had almost taken a vote on who was going to dust Spike. She was the only one who wasn’t upset with him for turning her sister. As she saw it, better have a vamp Buffy than no Buffy at all.

And right now, that was exactly the problem. They had no Buffy.

Dawn had been the one to notice it, creeping in her sister’s room just before sunrise, to make sure her shades were drawn. They weren’t, and the window was open.

The teen had awoken Willow before running to the living room where Giles was sleeping. The Witch and the Watcher had talked. A lot. But not done anything. Which infuriated Dawn. Her sister was somewhere out there, with a bad case of sun allergy, and she was the only one who had noticed that the sun was already shining. Eventually, she had sneaked out, running to the only person she could think of.

She rushed into the crypt, pressing her fist against a nasty stitch in her side, and yelled : “Spike ! You gotta help me ! Buffy is…”

At that point, her eyes identified the two forms moving in the bed, obviously awakened by her intrusion.

“…Here,” she finished, out of breath.

Buffy scrambled out of the bed, fully clothed. She picked her coat on the floor and smiled apologetically at Dawn.

“’Morning Dawnie. Sorry, I didn’t want to freak you out. I just came to… talk to Spike… and I kinda fell asleep.”

“It’s ok,” the teen mumbled. “Just leave a note or something next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Buffy said decidedly. “Let’s go home.”

She took a step toward Dawn, and Spike’s hand shot up and grabbed her arm.

“You can’t go , luv,” he said, seemingly half asleep.

“Of course I can ! You have no right to tell me what I can do or not !”

She yanked her arm away and he let go of it.

“You’re right. You can go wherever you bleeding please. But if you go now you won’t go far.”

He sounded really pissed off, though for what reason Dawn couldn’t guess. She cleared her throat and said softly : “Buffy ? Sun ?”

The Slayer shot a contrite look to both Dawn and Spike, who ignored her.

“I guess I’m stuck here for the day, then.”

She sounded really unhappy at the idea. Spike gave a deep sigh, which always amused Dawn. He didn’t need to breathe, but sometimes he seemed to forget it.

“Nibblet, how about you go home, grab a nice blanket and wait by the sewer’s entrance ? You know the one. I’ll show the way to big sis. We’ll be there right after you.”

Dawn nodded and darted out.

Part 8

Bunny Slippers

Buffy observed Spike as he put on a black shirt, his boots and duster, all the while very obviously not looking at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stalked to the fridge, grabbing something to eat. His fangs sank into the plastic of a blood bag and he drained it in one long pull.

“Back to old habits, are we luv? You spend the night with me, and come morning you run away.”

He threw a bag at her, and she barely caught it.

“I’m not running,” she denied, slipping the blood in her coat’s pocket.

He only snorted before going down the ladder into the scorched lower room. He had started to clean it a bit, she noted when she followed.

When he uncovered the sewer’s hole, she touched his arm lightly to get his attention.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

She pointed to her feet. His eyes widened comically as he noticed the fuzzy pink rabbit slippers she wore.

“Oh luv,” he laughed, “You make a scary vampire!”

It was an amused laugh, not mocking or disdainful, and for that she was grateful.

In a quick movement, he scooped her into his arms and jumped down the hole. She shrieked, her hands clutching the duster’s lapels, and he laughed again, more gently this time.

“I got you. Won’t let you down.”

Quietly, he started walking into the dark.

“How do you know you’re going the right way?” she asked after a moment, made uncomfortable by his silence. “It’s pitch black.”

“Shift.”

“What?” She looked toward his face quizzically, and noticed that his golden eyes were shining softly.

“Shift to game face, pet,” he asked again.

She did, and gasped. Where a few seconds before all she could see was darkness, she now could discern every detail of every brick on the walls. Her eyesight was not the only sense suddenly amplified. The smell, which had been pretty bad, was now almost nauseating. Trying to escape it, she pressed her face to his chest. Better. Spike’s scent. Cigarette. Booze. Blood.

“That’s my favorite shirt,” he said idly. “Don’t bite through it.”

Her face shot up as if he had struck her.

“I wasn’t…” she started.

“I didn’t say don’t bite. I just said don’t ruin the bloody shirt.”

Angry, she pushed the demon face away.

“I wasn’t going to bite,” she said stubbornly. “I won’t feed from you any more. Blood bags, that’s my diet now.”

She could have sworn she heard him grind his teeth. “Suit yourself.”


* * * * *


She wouldn’t drink from him any more? Fine. Good for her. Let her see how much fun it was to bag it. Scowling despite himself, Spike was striding as fast as he could with her in his arms. Ungrateful Childe. Came to him all upset in the middle of the night, then tried to run away, and now refused her own Sire’s blood. He ought to…

Nothing.

He would do nothing. He would be there for her if she needed him, and nothing else. That’s what he had promised himself, and that’s what he would do.

Finally, they reached the exit. He held her up to the ladder so that she wouldn’t stain her pretty slippers. Stupid things.

Climbing next to her, he knocked on the metal cover. That was the signal he had used with the Bit last summer. But when the cover was removed, it wasn’t her face that appeared. He took the blanket the man was holding out, and wrapped it as well as he could around Buffy.

“Run all the way until you’re inside,” he instructed.

She nodded, avoiding to look at his face.

“Take care of yourself Buffy.”

She gave no answer to his whisper and slipped out of the manhole. Spike watched her disappear from his sight, blinking when Giles stared down at him.

“I should dust you,” the Watcher said coldly.

“Yeah, but you won’t. She has first call on my ashes. And I think it won’t be long now before she does it.”

“Good. I hope I’m there to see that.”

The vampire only smirked and jumped off the ladder.

“Spike,” the human called.

“What now?”

A look passed between them, but no words. After a few seconds, Giles slipped the cover back into place, and Spike smiled in the darkness that surrounded him again.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered.

Part 9

Mourn and Live


Buffy ran until she was inside the house, clutching the blanket tightly around her, uncomfortably aware that it was the only thing that separated her from a final death. She went straight to the kitchen, taking her coat off on the way. She sat down at the table, turning in her hands the blood bag Spike had given her. Now that she was looking at the thing, she regretted not having taken advantage of his invitation. It was all his fault. Worried about a stupid shirt. As if all his shirts were not exactly the same anyway.

Lost in her ruminations, she didn’t notice Giles was in the kitchen until he asked her gently : “Would you like me to warm that for you ?”

She smiled at him gratefully. “Yes, please.”

As she absently watched him going around the kitchen, a sudden thought came to her. “Where is Dawn?”

“Getting ready for school.”

Buffy nodded. “School. Good. She missed too much of it already when I was sick.”

The microwave beeped, and Giles took out the mug, placing it in front of her. She stared at the dark liquid. It smelled nice, sure, and she was hungry, but it still wasn’t very appealing.

“Buffy… Why were you with Spike ? I thought you and Angel…”

The Watcher’s voice trailed, as if he didn’t know how to finish the thought.

“I do love Angel,” she said slowly, taking a tentative sip of blood. “I don’t know why I went to Spike. I couldn’t sleep and I just went there. It felt… normal … logical.”

Giles took his glasses off. Bad sign…

“He didn’t force you to… did he ?”

“No ! God no !”

Blinking several times, she studied the few drops of blood her shaky hands had just spilled on the table. “He just turned me,” she said more calmly. “Nothing else happened.”

She took a longer sip of blood, and it almost tasted bitter after her semi lie. Nothing happened, except that she had fed from him. Three times. And loved every second of it. And hoped somewhere deep inside that she would again.

A bit guilty about not telling the whole truth, she felt compelled to tell Giles about her other little secret.

“I slept with him,” she whispered. “Before I got ill.”

Her eyes remained fixed on the mug in her hands, almost empty now. She couldn’t face him. She had probably disappointed him more in the last few hours than in all the years he had been her Watcher.

“Are you in love with him?” came the quiet question.

Her eyes shot up, widened in surprise. “Of course not ! I love Angel !”

He said nothing, simply looking at her, his head slightly tilted to one side.

“Come on Giles, it’s Spike ! Bad, evil, soulless Spike. There is no way in Hell I would ever have feelings for him.”

He nodded, a sad smile coming to his lips.

“Yes Buffy, it’s Spike. Spike with whom you slept. Spike who turned you. Spike to whom you ran when you couldn’t sleep. Spike whom you still haven’t staked.”

She started shaking her head in denial, but before she could protest both Willow and Dawn entered the kitchen.

“Morning Buffy !” the Witch said cheerfully. “Where were you ? You scared us for a while.”

Willow didn’t know… Why did that sound like a good thing ? She used to tell all her secrets to the redhead, that was what best friends did.

“Hey Will. I was just out and about.”

“Just to let you know,” Willow said between two bites into an apple, “we’ll do the modified curse for Angel tonight.”

“Oh, good. Thanks.”

Had that been that a wink? No… the girl probably had something in her eye…

“I gotta run. I’m meeting Tara before class. See you later !”

With a big grin plastered on her face, the Witch was gone.

“Guys… I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone where I was… They wouldn’t understand.”

Just as she didn’t, she thought bitterly.

“When you say they, you mean Angel, right ?” Dawn teased.

Giles put a hand on the teen’s shoulder, and a brief look passed between them, making Buffy wonder what she had missed.

“We won’t say anything,” Giles promised before leaving the kitchen.

Buffy observed Dawn in silence as she readied her breakfast. Milk and cereals, nothing fancy. The kid was smiling, glancing at her sister every now and then, delight obvious on her face. She had no mixed feelings about Buffy’s return, it seemed.

“It doesn’t bother you ?” she asked, a bit puzzled.

“What ?”

“Me being a vamp.”

The teen’s smile vanished as she looked at Buffy gravely, almost apologetically. “I’d rather have a vampire sister than no sister at all. Everyone is mad at Spike for changing you, but not me. I’m happy he did. I couldn’t have lost you. Not again.”

The words echoed in Buffy’s mind. Spike had said pretty much the same thing when she had awoken.

Her mind formed a conscious thought. He had done it for himself, of course. But not only. He had tried to tell her, and she hadn’t listened. But now she understood.

Too many people need you.

Noticing the tears that shone in her sister’s eyes, Buffy rose and went to her, hugging her gently. “It’s ok, Dawnie. Whether he was right or not, I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”


* * * * *


When Giles returned to the kitchen after his morning ablutions, Buffy was still in the same spot he had left her, staring into her empty mug.

“I’ll go buy you some blood later,” he proposed.

“What will you pay it with?”

He frowned at the unexpected and blunt question. “Buffy ?”

“What am I going to do, Giles ? I can’t have a normal job any more. But I still have bills to pay. It’s like when I was brought back before, except I have even less choices now.”

He had thought of this himself, to tell the truth, and had come up with an idea. He hadn’t planed to tell her so soon, though. He sat next to her and rested one hand on top of hers. So cold. He didn’t think he would ever get used to it.

“I know this is a bad time for me to announce it, but I need to go back to England. I will leave next week, after the wedding. But before that, you and I are going to sign papers to make you co-owner of the Magic Box. I don’t need the money, and you do.”

She shook her head, her eyes filled with surprise.

“I can’t accept that. It’s your shop. And you know my experience in retail is less than glorious anyway.”

“You won’t need to do anything,” he replied gently. “Actually, Anya will certainly be happier if you don’t even try to do anything. You’ll just get a part of the profits. It will pay the bills, and even a little more.”

Again, she shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You will. I bought that shop with the money the Council paid me. It’s time you got something out of them too.”

After much discussion, she finally accepted.

To Giles surprise, there was one point she never contested. She didn’t ask him not to leave. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy that at last she was ready to stand on her own, or sad that she didn’t need him any longer.


* * * * *


Buffy spent a large part of her day in bed, crying. She was a vampire. Her best friend acted like there was nothing out of the ordinary. Her sister was actually happy about it. Giles was so disappointed that he was leaving the country yet again. And she didn’t dare ask him not to.

She felt lonely, lonelier than she had ever been. She couldn’t wait for evening to come, bringing Angel along. She couldn’t wait for him to get a foolproof soul. Then, she thought, everything would start being better. She would have someone by her side to take care of her, to help her through hard times, to held her and make her feel loved.

Finally comforted by the promise of better times to come, she managed to stop her tears. She had been through rougher things, after all. The time for mourning her old self had passed. It was now time to live again.

Part 10

Talk


A few minutes after nightfall, Angel was entering the Summers’ household. Willow didn’t need him to be physically present to cast her spell, but he wanted to be with Buffy. Since leaving her the night before, he hadn’t stopped thinking of her. For so long, he had thought they would never be together again. They couldn’t be together. Not because of his soul. Because she deserved so much more than what he could offer her.

Everything had changed. Now, he could allow himself to be hers. The only thing that prevented him from losing his soul before it became permanent was the simple fact that his love was now a creature of the night. Even if her being turned was the thing that finally made everything possible, part of him wanted to scream at the idea that a woman so full of life and light was now undead. The other part - the demon part, he told himself - was outraged not because she had been turned, but because he wasn’t the one who had done it. The thought had crossed his mind, of course, when they called to tell him she was dying. But he wouldn’t have done it. He couldn’t have. Killing her
would have destroyed him.

Spike hadn’t had the same hesitation.

Spike… The younger vampire was a mystery to him. He used to know him as well as he knew himself - or rather, Angelus did. But it wasn’t true any more. The blonde had changed. Angel couldn’t believe he had actually
thought of giving Buffy a soul. When he could have run away with her, he had instead arranged for her to be ensouled permanently and had brought her back to her family and friends. Angel knew it had to mean two things.

One, Spike wasn’t in love with Buffy as the Scoobies seemed to believe. If he had loved her, he would never have let her return home, he would have kept her for himself. That was his nature. Maybe he believed he was in love with her, but it probably was mere infatuation.

Two, the bond between them was weak. He had certainly given her just enough to turn her. He wasn’t stupid enough to make her his Childe, not if he planned to let her go home.

In any case, it was a struggle not to go find him and put an end to his existence. If only Buffy had not insisted… Yet, he could understand her, she had a right to dust him herself. Angel wished he knew why she hadn’t done it yet, though.

The spell was only a matter of minutes. A lot of tension and excitement for a little thing, really. It wasn’t exactly like the one he had seen the Witches perform for Buffy, since he already had a soul that just needed to be permanently attached to him. He didn’t feel any different now that it was done, but for a few seconds after the spell, he had felt like a ton of bricks had hit him. Quite unpleasant sensation.

After that, he went out with Buffy, more to talk than for patrol. He had a lot to tell her. She listened, asking for details now and then, her arm wrapped around his waist, his on her shoulders. She didn’t say a word about the Darla part, but asked gentle questions about Connor. It didn’t hurt as it usually did to talk of his lost son with her.

At some point, they decided not to rush things, and instead to take the time to rediscover each other before getting intimate. They had waited so long already, a few more days was nothing.


* * * * *


They had talked, and walked around Sunnydale for hours, occasionally dusting a vamp when they came across one. It felt like old times for Buffy, before he had left for LA, before Angelus even. Right now, that was just what she wanted. Of course, she trusted Willow and her spells, but she felt a little hesitant at the idea of making love to him. Though she wouldn’t object to sleeping in his arms. Or kiss him wildly, her body crushed between him and a tree. Which was exactly what was happening. Kissing promised to be even more intense now that neither of them needed to break off for breath. So intense, in fact, that she almost forgot their resolve to wait before pushing things further.

With a sigh, she pulled away from his lips, and let her mouth trail against his cool skin, licking a path down his jaw and along his neck. She nibbled with blunt teeth, eliciting a soft growl. Suddenly, she remembered Spike’s warning. She needed to ask first. She made herself meet his gaze, happy that she wouldn’t be blushing.

“Can I taste you ?” she asked in a whisper.

He blinked several times, as if unsure of what she was asking exactly. Then he nodded, tilting his head ever so slightly. She kissed the offered neck before shifting and sinking her fangs into his flesh. She sipped slowly, eyes closed, forcing herself to take her time and savor every drop of his blood. Much better than bagged blood, even if it was cold, she thought dimly. Also, different from Spike’s. Just as good, but… different. Something was missing, and absently she told herself Angel must have been feeding on animal blood. He was moaning softly against her, and she had to repress a smile at the thought that she was the cause of that sound.

Abruptly, her eyes shot open and she stared at the vampire that was standing just a few yards behind Angel. At the second their eyes met, she jerked her mouth away from the brunette’s skin, making him grunt in surprise. He looked at her questioningly, then turned to see what she was looking at so intently. The peroxided blonde was already striding away, his duster flapping behind him. Angel took a step in his direction, but Buffy stopped him, shaking her head lightly.

In silence, they made their way to Revello Drive, and after a long good night kiss, Angel returned to the mansion as Buffy went to bed. In truth, she wasn’t sleepy, but she had decided to try and keep as much of a regular schedule as she could, for Dawn’s sake.

Despite all she had shared with Angel that night, an image was haunting her.

Deep blue eyes.

Filled with surprise, and pain.


* * * * *


On his way back to the crypt, Spike smashed through a liquors store’s window, and indiscriminately grabbed all the bottles he could carry.

That would teach him about minding his own business. Great idea, latest on a list of equally great ideas, to keep patrolling now that she was back to doing it herself. And with the poof. Fucking great idea. At least, now he knew why she had refused his blood. The girl had found another supplier.

It wasn’t like it was a surprise. Hell, it wasn’t even like he cared.

By the time he had emptied his fifth bottle, he really didn’t care any more.

Not much.

Part 11

Remembering


The next morning, following her brand new plan to become the kind of sister she had wanted to be for Dawn ever since their mother had died, Buffy managed to get up early to make pancakes for breakfast. Dawn, as well as Giles and Willow, appeared pleasantly surprised, and praised her cooking, which was an all times first. She tasted one of her creations, and indeed it wasn’t too bad for something she had cooked by herself.

After they left, Giles for the Magic Box and the girls to school, she gave in to her instincts and crawled back into bed. She made sure however to set her alarm in order to be up for Dawn’s return. They spent the end of the afternoon together, playing board games and chatting girly talk, catching up for the months of depressed-I-don’t-want-to-talk-Buffy that had been followed by sick-I-can’t-talk-Buffy.

Night finally came, and with it, Angel. As the evening before, they went out for to patrol - and to make out like teenagers. She didn’t ask again, though, and he didn’t propose.

She was a bit uncomfortable at the idea of crossing path with Spike. Why he had been in that cemetery the previous night, she had no idea. It wasn’t * his * cemetery, so what was he doing there ? And why was she worrying about that when Angel’s mouth was devouring hers ?

They were returning to her home, a couple of hours before sunrise, hand in hand, when she asked the question that had been bothering her for a couple of days.

“Angel… What is it like to be a Childe ?”

He looked at her, his face filled with confusion.

“Why do you ask ?”

She shrugged and feigned indifference. “You were Darla’s Childe, right ? Just wondering.”

His face softened for just a second, so quickly that she thought she had imagined it. He took a few steps in silence, then started talking, his voice at times almost reverent.

“Being a Childe is a wondrous thing, Buffy. It’s feeling loved, feeling like you belong, and that you have a purpose... Don’t get me wrong, Darla was a bitch. But every now and then, there were these moments, these looks, these touches, that made the whole world cease to exist. There was just us, and…”

He seemed to suddenly remember who he was talking to. “And I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he finished, remorsefully.

“Why not ?”

“First, it’s really a bad idea to tell the woman I love about another woman. Second, it’s wrong to describe to you something you’ll never have.”

She frowned at that remark. Why did he think… Well, of course. He didn’t know. She hadn’t told him, or anyone. It didn’t seem to matter to Spike, so why should it matter to her ?

“What is it like to have a Childe ?” she asked quietly.

“Buffy, don’t…”

“Please,” she interrupted. “I’m a vamp now. And even if I’m never going to turn anyone, I just want to know.”

For a moment, he seemed to ponder her words, then acquiesced. “To have a Childe… It’s almost like to be in love. Almost. Or maybe like an addiction…”

His voice faded, as if he was getting lost in memories. She brought him back to the present by asking : “Why would you want to be addicted to someone ?”

“Because I knew I could ask anything from them. Anything at all. It’s an immense feeling of power. And the pleasure…”

Again, he stopped abruptly and looked at her almost shyly. “I really don’t think I should be telling you this.”

Troubled by his words, she nodded and didn’t try to probe any further. Was it what it was like for Spike ? Probably not. He hadn’t asked anything from her. He hadn’t shown much concern at all after the turning. Except maybe when he let her feed from him.

After a while, a thought struck Buffy. “Who are ‘they’ ? I thought Dru was your only Childe.”

He squeezed her hand briefly, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“She wasn’t the only one. Only one still around, though. With Spike.”

She frowned, almost forgetting to keep walking.

“But he told me once that Drusilla turned him.”

“She drained him. But it’s my blood he drank.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t find anything else to say, puzzled by all that she had just learned. Angel, however, continued in a quiet voice. “It was the hardest thing I ever did, leaving them. Leaving Darla was hard enough, but leaving my own Childer… Even with the soul, I still loved them. They were still mine. But they were still killers, which I was not any more.”

“You loved them ?” Buffy repeated softly.

He stopped walking and slid his arms around her waist, his gaze meeting hers.

“Not like I love you. I have never and will never love anyone else as much as I love you.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and her thoughts were swept away by a twirl of sensations.

“Sleep with me tonight ?” she asked when he pulled away.

For an instant, she was almost sure her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited for his answer.

“What about… waiting ?” he replied gently.

“Just sleep. Just hold me.”

She initiated another kiss, sweet and slow. After a few seconds, they were back to walking toward Revello Drive, hands clasped together.


* * * * *


Through the window of her bedroom, Spike could see shadows. The small one, he had often watched in the past from his observation point under the tree. The other one… he didn’t want to think about.

He had been following the couple for about an hour. He had stumbled upon them by chance. Truly, he wasn’t out to look for them. Her, maybe, but certainly not him.

Engrossed in each other, they hadn’t even noticed they were being stalked. If he had wanted, he could have dusted them both easily. That angered him. She had to be more careful.

He had been able to hear all of their little conversation about Childer. It had been a double shock for him. The poof didn’t know that Buffy was his Childe, and she hadn’t corrected him. That hurt a lot, for reasons he didn’t even want to reflect on. But then, the second shock had been even more unpleasant. Angel and his Childer. Angel who, even ensouled, had loved his Childer. It had been easy to hate the poof for abandoning them. It might be harder now that Spike knew just how painful it must have been.

It’s only when the imminence of sunrise became unbearable that the vampire stopped staring at the curtains behind which lay, together, his Childe and Sire.


* * * * *


Cool chest pressed against her back. Definite hardness too. Cool fingers sliding under her top. Against her skin. Along her side. Across her stomach. Up the valley between her breast. Quiet moan. His or hers ? The fingers hesitated slightly, then circled first one globe then the other, barely touching.

Buffy’s still sleepy brain told her she had to stop him, quickly, before it got too far. If they started again they wouldn’t stop until one of them passed out. As usual.

“Stop,” she mumbled, a bit surprised when he complied. Since when did he listen to her ?

“Sorry,” he whispered. Now, that was new. An apology ? She was the one who usually made excuses at this point.

“I gotta go.”

Sitting, she forced her legs out of the bed, her eyes still closed.

“Where are you going ?”

“You know I have to go home.”

In just a minute, she would. Just as soon as her eyes consented to open. Unless he asked very nicely. If he asked, maybe she would stay. Just this time. Just for a…

“Buffy, you are home.”

Her eyelids shot open, and she looked around her, blinking in confusion. She was in her room. Not the crypt. It was Angel in the bed. Not him.

“I’m not sleepy any more,” she lied. “I’ll go see what Dawn is up to.”

Before going down though, she took a shower. A cold shower. It didn’t make much difference, but it was an habit she had developed in the last few months. Spike dreams equaled cold shower.

For years, she had dreamt of being in Angel’s arms again. And now that she was, she dreamt of another. Admittedly, Spike had given her more to remember than Angel ever had a chance to. But still… Cold shower. Bad Buffy.

Next