Part 38

Amends


Warily, Spike observed as Buffy and Angel came back inside. They both looked somber, and he wondered what had gone on in that alley. Leaving the two kids chatting on the couch, he walked toward the two souled vampires. He managed to repress a sigh when Buffy’s arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. He knew she was his; that didn’t mean he had liked seeing her walk out with the poof.

“Everything alright, pet?” he asked gently.

She raised her hazel eyes to him, love shining in them. Love for him.

“Everything’s fine. Angel… understands now.”

Spike glanced at his frowning Sire. Understanding wasn’t exactly what he looked to be. Hurt, sad, yes, but understanding? Though it was a bit hard to judge, with the usually inexpressive face covered in dried blood and already appearing bruises. As he surveyed his handiwork, Spike couldn’t repress a smug smile. It had been a hell of a fight, but it had been bloody good too.

“I’ll go get you two some blood,” Buffy said thoughtfully, her mind probably following the same path as his.

With that, she gave him a quick peck on the lips and pulled away from his embrace, walking back to the shop. His eyes followed her, unable to let go of her sight.

“She said she would kill me for you.”

Startled, Spike turned his gaze back to Angel. The brunette’s head was tilted slightly, his eyelids reduced to narrow slits, as if he was gauging him.

“She said that?” Spike murmured, mild surprise and pride seeping through
his voice.

Angel simply nodded, never ceasing to observe his Childe. It occurred to Spike that Buffy’s threat might not be enough to deter Angel.

“I would kill you for her,” the younger vampire declared quietly. “If that’s what it takes to have her. I would kill my own Sire.”

Again, Angel nodded, more slowly this time.

“I think you made that clear earlier,” he replied. “And I will try not to give either of you a reason. I can’t say I approve though.”

The beginning of a smile crept on Spike’s face.

“’Never thought you would. And it’s not like we need your approval anyway.”

Angel didn’t react to the taunting. Instead, he whispered the very last words Spike would have ever thought he would hear from him.

“I’m sorry.”

Spike frowned at the words, wondering what in hell Buffy could have told Angel to make him an even bigger poof than he already was.

“Sorry about what?” he asked, trying, and failing, to make his voice sound unconcerned.

The shadow of a smile rose to Angel’s lips, and he shook his head lightly.

“The list is long I guess. Let’s just say I’m sorry about the crypt and about today.”

Stunned, Spike stared as the man in front of him divested himself of his leather jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing his right wrist.

“I took too much on purpose and for wrong reasons,” Angel said very low. “I offer reparation.”

Spike couldn’t believe his ears and eyes. His Sire, apologizing, and proposing to give amends? He couldn’t detach his gaze from the exposed
skin that was proposed to him. That was where he had drunk from, the very
first time, so long ago. It was also from that same wrist that he had received
rewards, a few precious times, so very rarely. Unconsciously, he licked his lips.

Buffy chose that moment to come back from the shop. She handed each of them a pack of blood, oblivious to the tension crackling between them.

“I called home,” she said quickly. “Willow told me she found out where the three geeks are hiding. I want to go after them tonight.”

At the tone of her voice, Spike idly thought that she sounded both angry and embarrassed, and he wondered absently what was troubling her. Yet, despite the urgency of her words, he couldn’t make himself focus on her, his eyes still considering Angel’s bare wrist.

“Buffy, would you mind taking Connor and Dawn outside? We’ll be out in a minute.”

Angel’s quiet words made Spike snap out of his trance, and he glanced at the brunette before turning his gaze to Buffy. She was considering both of them with a slight frown. She finally noticed the rolled sleeve, and her eyes widened slightly in surprise, immediately looking up at Spike’s, questioning. His hand rose to her face, fingers brushing against the soft skin of her cheek.

“If you don’t want me to,” he murmured, “I won’t.”

Her hand mirrored his gesture, caressing his face, and he leaned into the soft touch. She didn’t say a word, but something passed through her eyes. She knew what it was like to crave her Sire’s blood. She understood.


* * * * *


Unable to force a word out of her throat, and not knowing what she would have said even if she had been able to talk, Buffy left the two men and joined the teens, beckoning them outside. She noticed the looks that both
Dawn and Steven darted toward the vampires. Dawn was worried. Steven seemed… curious.

Buffy wasn’t so sure what her sentiments were. She knew what was going to happen. Angel’s bared wrist would have been enough to clue her in, but what she had seen in Spike’s eyes had confirmed it. Bloodlust, pure and simple. She couldn’t help but feel a tingle of jealousy that he would drink from someone else than her. Yet, at the same time, she understood, all too well, why he would. She herself couldn’t get enough of her Sire’s blood. She loved him, and couldn’t get enough of all of him as a rule it seemed, but she knew it was her demon demanding his blood. Not just any blood, his.
Not because she loved him, but because she was his Childe. Why would it be different for Spike? She wondered when he had tasted Angel’s - no, Angelus’
- blood for the last time. Probably a long, long time ago.

As they waited outside next to the rented car, Buffy realized that, if she knew who Steven was, they hadn’t been formerly presented. She offered her hand to him, smiling gently when he shook it awkwardly. Someone still would have to explain to her why he was a teen and not a baby.

“I am Buffy. I’m a friend of your father. Glad to meet you, Steven.”

He considered her for a little moment, his head tilted, brown eyes looking
deep in hers, very much like his father’s.

“Dawn told me you are the Slayer,” he said finally. “If you’re supposed to kill vampires, how can you be friend with them?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Rude, she thought. A quick glance at Dawn
revealed that her sister was annoyed by the boy’s reaction.

“I am the Slayer,” she conceded. “I get to kill any harmful demon that crosses my way. That doesn’t mean all of them.”

She crossed her arms, getting even more exasperated by the deep frown the kid was giving her.

“Steven has a little problem accepting that not all demons are bad,” Dawn supplied with a sigh.

Grinning at the idea that flashed through her mind, Buffy looked around,
making sure that no one could see or hear them.

“Not only I have vampires and demons friends,” she said quietly as her eyes settled on Steven again, “But I’m also in love with one. And I happen to be a vampire myself.”

With the last words, she flashed her game face at the kid, baring her fangs in a mocking smile. He gave a start, but did not take a step back or show any fear.

“So…” he said faintly, “you’re a vampire who kills other vampires?”

She nodded, the barest smile tugging at her human again features.

“Yes. Like your father. And like Spike.”

“Talking about me, luv?”

She turned toward the two approaching men, physically so different and yet so similar in every other way. Both vampires. Both clad in black leather. Both bruised and bloodied. Both had drunk from her. Both had shared her bed. Both she had battled. Both she had loved. But only one held her heart now.

Spike came to her, his arm sliding naturally around her waist. Angel stayed at a reasonable distance.

“We’re going back to LA tonight,” he declared, talking both to her and Steven, getting identical nods as a reply.

A few minutes later, Angel was leaving Dawn, Spike and Buffy in front of their home, and riding away with Steven. As she was striding toward the house, Buffy noticed that her sister stared at the car until it vanished. Strangely enough, Spike did the same thing.

Part 39

Seeing Red (1)





Spike followed Buffy down the steps into the three idiots’ lair, grinning at the way she had kicked the door open. Said door was now reduced to remains the sizes of matches. Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she was bloody good at that game. Of course, it rather helped that she was really pissed off. He pitied the nerds when she found them. Even in his worst days, he had rarely made her that mad.

He observed her as she walked around the basement. God, she was gorgeous when she was angry. The rest of the time too, naturally, but the way her eyes gleamed with gold… Just bleedin’ gorgeous, there was no other word.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t angry as she was. Amused, rather. Annoyed too, but mostly amused. So what if the Scoobies had caught a free show? It wasn’t
like any of them didn’t know. No, it was just amusing the way they avoided his gaze or blushed or stammered as they looked at him and the Slayer. Except for Anya. The ex-demon had seemed more interested in making sure
they had cleaned the shop than in pretending to be prudish. Annoying on the other hand was what they could have seen. Buffy biting him. Buffy in game face. Again, Spike didn’t care about the Scoobies, they knew that she was a vampire now and they certainly weren’t going to tell anyone. But the three wankers might have discovered that. According to her friends, Buffy’s face had been mostly hidden and they didn’t see her vamp out. Still, the possibility had existed.

And yet, it was no more than annoying to him. He felt ready to take on the world to protect her. That she was perfectly able to protect herself changed nothing about it. Unlife was just getting better each day, so how could he be angry? Absently, he fingered the two small and puckered wounds on his wrist. One less thing to think and brood about, on a list that was becoming shorter every day it seemed. Not that he brooded about it, of course, he left that to Peaches.

Returning to the present, he surveyed the basement with his eyes and ears.

“It’s useless, luv. They’re gone.”

Buffy muttered a curse, and he half smiled at hearing the familiar expression
in her mouth.

“Let’s just grab whatever they left behind,” she proposed, gesturing at a pile of papers and books. “Maybe that will help us find them.”

Nodding, Spike gathered all he could hold. From the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy tilt a white board. He raised his eyes toward her, reading the short message at the same time as he heard the buzzing sound.

Too late.

“Slayer! Duck!”

For once in her life - or unlife - she listened to him without asking questions first, and narrowly avoided the huge buzz saw that sliced the board in front of her. He heard more buzzing sounds, coming from different directions.

“Let’s get out of here!” she shouted as she ran past him, grabbing a handful of papers and CDs as she did.

They had to slalom, jump and dive to avoid being cut in slices, but they finally made it out without damage. Or rather, almost without damage. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at her jacket, which had been neatly sliced in the front. He didn’t smell blood, so she was untouched, but the jacket was completely ruined. And he had thought she couldn’t get any angrier…

“Okay,” she said very low, her eyes flashing gold furiously. “Now that's gonna cost them.”


* * * * *


Buffy woke to find Spike sitting across her legs, massaging her back with long and insistent motions. She purred in her pillow as the tension was eased from her body by his skillful hands. Very skillful hands. Hands that could fight or stroke with the same intensity. They had done both, the night before. They would do both again many times if she had her word to say about it.

As he noticed that she was now awake, his touch changed, becoming more
caress than massage, tracing elaborate patterns on her skin that set all her nerves on fire. His fingers traveled on her, running along the sides of her breasts, then gliding down the curve of her back and across her ass, finally sliding between her slightly parted thighs. He let out a soft murmur of appreciation at finding her ready for him, and softly nudged her legs farther apart. Agonizingly slow, he pushed until he was buried inside her. His chest pressed against her back, his tongue brushing against the marks on her neck. Her whole body tingled at the touch and she unconsciously raised her hips, eliciting a quiet moan against her skin.

He rolled them so that they were now lying on their sides. His arm wrapped
around her waist, his fingers returning to their sensual exploration of her skin as he moved inside her in a lazy rhythm. She clutched his hand, leading it to her breast, her nipples begging to be touched. He obliged, caressing and teasing until the pebbles were hard against his palm. Then his hand slid across her stomach, and as his fingers found the other part of her that was begging for attention, she couldn’t help but marvel at how well he knew her body. He flicked and twisted her clit in time with his thrusting, his pace now increasing. Buffy felt an unexpected fang graze her shoulder, and she quaked with the sweet release as Spike held her tighter against him, his own body quivering inside and around her. They remained in the same spooned position, quietly enjoying the feel of each other.

After a while, Buffy laced his fingers with hers, bringing them to her mouth. As she traced each digit with slow licks and kisses, she noticed the marks on his wrist. An involuntary growl escaped her throat. Spike rose on his elbow so he could see what she was protesting about, and kissed the side of her face tenderly.

“Mine,” she said softly, her eyes running over the healed punctures.

“Yours,” he agreed.

She brought his hand higher, nipping at the scars with blunt teeth as if trying to erase them, and a low rumble rose from his chest. Thoughtlessly, she shifted to game face and bit his wrist, covering the offending marks with her own.

“Always yours,” he purred into her hair.


* * * * *


Willow raised her eyes from her computer screen toward the two vampires
entering the living room. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and scolded herself
mentally. They were the ones who should be blushing, not her! Casting a quick glance at Tara next to her, she noted that she wasn’t the only one still embarrassed by the events of the previous day. Her eyes scanned the room, finding that Xander’s face was slightly flushed. Dawn was munching from a box of cereal, a satisfied grin on her lips as she watched her sister and Spike come closer. Anya was oblivious, concentrated on a heavy spell book, inside which, Willow had noticed, she had slipped the latest pictures from her honeymoon.

“Hey guys,” Buffy said cheerfully. “We're here! Ready for action…uh, bad guy fighting action.”

If vampires could blush, Buffy would probably be crimson by now. Spike, on the other hand, was a picture of smugness.

Buffy gestured to the piles of papers, books and CDs on the coffee table.

“Any luck with that mess? I tried to look at it last night but couldn’t find anything useful.”

“Not much progress,” Willow answered with an apologetic smile. “But we’re getting there. We’ll find what they plan and where they hide.”

Buffy nodded, her face suddenly becoming somber as she looked at the
Scoobies around the room.

“Guys, I’m sorry to ruin your Sunday with research. I’m sure all of you would have better things to do…”

Again, Willow felt herself blush. This had not been how she had planned to spend her first day with Tara back into her life. Oh well… They would have all the time in the world once the geeks ceased to be a problem.

“Come on Buffster,” Xander quipped, “what could be better than digging
through moldy books and Klingon love poems to find the evil trio and kick
their sorry asses?”

By the heavy silence that followed, all of them could think of something better to do. Trying to return her mind to the task at hand, Willow reminded
herself to ask Xander later since when he could read Klingon well enough to identify love poems…

Buffy kneeled by the coffee table, picking up a pile of papers and starting to run through them. Spike on the other hand was slipping his duster on, apparently getting ready to go out.

“Uh, Spike,” Dawn said worriedly, “it’s kinda sunny out there, you know.”

He came to her, smirking, and ruffled her hair playfully.

“I noticed, Nibblet. Don’t worry for me, I do that all the time.”

Coming from a man whose face was a mass of bluish bruises, the comment
wasn’t half as convincing as it would have been otherwise. He cast an amused
glance to them all, before declaring:

“You kids have fun with your books. I’ll go hit the demons bars and see if I can find any rumors.”

He bend to kiss Buffy as she looked up at him, and Willow wondered, annoyed, when she would ever be able to look at them together without starting to blush.

“Don’t wait for me for patrol,” he whispered to the Slayer. “’Have a couple of things I want to do tonight.”

“You mean you let me patrol without you?” Buffy said in mock surprise.

He certainly had been very protective of her since he had turned her, Willow told herself thoughtfully. Then she realized, it had started long before that.

“Just this time, pet. And be careful.”

With a last kiss, the vampire was striding out, protecting himself of the sun with a blanket. Willow noticed that Buffy’s eyes had followed him out, and the Slayer gave a small sigh as the door closed behind him.

“We’ll find them,” Willow said quietly. “It will take time, but we will find them.”

He friend gave her a thankful smile, and they returned to their research.


* * * * *


Walking through her third cemetery of the evening, all her senses focused on finding vamps to dust, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder where Spike was. She had gotten used to having him around on patrol, even if most of the time he did nothing but watch her fight. She missed him, his quips as well as his comforting presence. She had missed him all day long, as she and her friends went meticulously through the seemingly endless pile of evidence salvaged from the nerds’ lair. Dimly, she wondered whether Spike had had any more luck finding useful information. She couldn’t wait to find the three idiots, but at the same time she wasn’t sure what she would do then. Fight them? They were humans, and as annoying as they were, she had no right to kill them. Give them to the police? For what crimes? There was no evidence that they had been behind the bank robbery or the diamond’s
disappearance. They had turned her invisible, but who would believe that? They were behind that young woman’s death, she was sure of it, but again she had no evidence. They had spied on her and her friends, but now their system had been torn down by Willow’s care. What would they invent next to make her unlife miserable?

Her Slayer sense tingled and she spotted a vampire, a few yards away. As quietly as she could, she approached him, intent on dusting him before he knew what was happening. However, he noticed her and evaded her stake, launching a few quick blows at her. After the training she had had the night before, this was nothing. Easily, she avoided all the hits, and plunged her stake toward the vamp’s chest, already grinning in self-satisfaction. Yet, before he turned to dust, he managed to finally touch her, kicking her hard and sending her flying into the nearest headstone. She grunted at the impact, which had been violent enough to break the stone in two. Grimacing, she got back to her feet, her hand reaching to her sore back, suddenly glad Spike wasn’t there. He would have been pretty upset at seeing that, and she was sure she would have heard about it for days. Trying her best not to limp, Buffy made her way out of the cemetery and toward home.

Part 40

Seeing Red (2)


Spike entered the bathroom quietly, closing the door noiselessly behind him. Buffy was leaning over the tub, starting the water. She was clad in her bathrobe only, and he played with the idea of shagging her on the bathroom
floor. His latest evil plan was to make her come in every room of the house.
But then, he noticed the grimace of pain on her face when she straightened
up and turned to him, the way she reached to hold her back.

“You hurt?”

She gave him the barest smile.

“Nothing bad, I just had a close encounter with a headstone.”

Spike frowned. If it wasn’t that bad, she wouldn’t be grimacing again as she divested herself of the robe. He stepped closer to help her, easing the sleeve gently over her shoulder. He let his fingers run lightly over the large bruise on her back. And she said it was nothing… He regretted not having gone on patrol with her. Surely, he could have helped prevent that. He held her elbow as she climbed into the tub.

“Care to join me?” she proposed as she settled down in the bubbles, carefully settling her back against the tub.

The idea was tempting, but he knew if he got in there with her, he would forget about her hurt back. So he just shook his head slightly.

“Another time, luv. When I can hold you without hurting you more than you already do.”

Kneeling by the side of the tub, he rolled his sleeves up. He picked up a washcloth and rubbed soap on it before softly running it on her shoulders. She purred her appreciation, her eyes closing in contentment.

“Heard any information we can use?” she asked after a few seconds.

“Shh… don’t think about it. Just relax for now.”

He had heard a few things, alright, and shared his information with Willow already. She was checking out a few last minute things, but he knew already that they would hunt for the nerds later that night. In the meantime, he wanted his Slayer to rest and relax a little.

He brushed the washcloth down her arm, gliding along her skin, then back up, across her neck and down the other arm. A faint smile was playing on her lips, and he leaned in to kiss it chastely. Concentrating next on her front, he made sure to avoid touching her nipples, drawing large circles around them instead. She whimpered quietly, eyes still closed, and he just grinned. Next his hand plunged in the water, rubbing her stomach, inching down until he was barely brushing against her soft curls. She parted her thighs slightly, inviting him lower. Instead, he ran the cloth over her thigh, sliding all the way to her toes and coming back up to his starting point, before repeating his actions with the other leg. He finally gave in, sinking between her thighs to brush ever so lightly against her swollen flesh. Again, she whimpered, this time arching her hips a little to increase the pressure of his touch. He let go of the cloth, rubbing instead his fingers around her clit, not touching yet, just teasing. Her eyes opened and looked straight into his, pleading, begging. He complied. Pressing his thumb against the hard bud, he slipped a finger past her folds, then two, pumping rhythmically against her most sensitive flesh. His free hand reached for his erection, shifting it to a less painful position in the confines of his jeans. She was biting her lower lip and he could tell she was close, very close. He flicked her clit hard, once, twice, and was rewarded by a deep moan as her body shuddered in the water. He kissed her again, running a lazy tongue on her swollen lips.

“Feeling better luv?” he asked cockily.

Her eyelids fluttered and she stretched in a catlike manner.

“Much better,” she slurred.

Grinning with self-satisfaction, Spike got to his feet and picked up a towel, wrapping it around her body as she stepped out of the tub.

“Thank you,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his earlobe.

“My pleasure, luv.”


* * * * *

Dried and dressed, Buffy stepped down to the living room, shadowed by a still grinning Spike. Xander and Anya were gone, but Willow and Tara were still there with Dawn, still looking over the evil Trio documents. Funny, Buffy reflected. Willow had moved out of the house the day before, and yet she had spent the day there. Hopefully, the three geeks would be behind bars soon, and the wiccas would finally be able to spend some time together.

Willow raised her eyes to them, at last not blushing as she looked at her and Spike. She smiled, beckoning them to come closer.

“Hey, I think we finally got something.”

“What did you find out?” Buffy asked as she came to stand next to her, where she could see the laptop. On the screen, she could see what looked
like blueprints and schematics.

“Banks, armored car routes, corporate vaults... This is big.”

Tara’s voice was soft, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“They're looking to score some serious dinero,” Willow confirmed with a nod. “I don't think they're planning just one job.”

Frowning, Buffy eyed the printouts lying all over the table.

“I can't cover all of these at once,” she said grumpily.

“You don't have to,” Willow said with a deep smile. “There's one here we think they'll hit tonight.”

Buffy took the few papers Tara was handing her, looking over them before
passing them to Spike. He barely glanced at them, and she had the distinct
feeling he had seen them before.

“We can stop them,” he said, “but the rumor going around is that they stole some kind of orbs. ‘Make them tougher, stronger.”

A wicked grin came to Buffy’s lips. “Good. I won't have to hold back.”


* * * * *


As they walked briskly toward the amusement park, Spike kept glancing at the beauty by his side. Before they left the house, he had given her a little gift. His day in bars had been fruitful money wise, and between playing poker and pool he had amassed enough to go shopping before coming home, as he had hoped. First, he had gotten a few things for their new lair. They had decided to move from her room to the more spacious master bedroom now that Willow had left it. A little paint, heavy drapes and a few other accessories would make it quite comfortable. Then he had noticed in a store window the perfect gift for his Childe. The idea had been nagging him for a little while, and the way her jacket had been ruined the night before just made it more fitting. He had bought the item without a second thought. Watching her stride purposefully, wrapped in the black leather that stopped just above her calves, his only thought was that it had been a bloody great idea. He had heard her a few times make appreciative comments about his duster. Now she had her own, and they were twin shadows in the night.

As they finally came in sight of the park, they found that the three nerds were already there. The bot guy, Warren, was effortlessly ripping off the back door of an overturned armored car and tossing it aside. In a few strides, Buffy had jumped on top of the car, and a mix of pride and love filled Spike as he watched her, standing there, the duster flapping around her in the wind.

“Is this your bank?” she asked the wanker. “'Cause if not, there's gonna be a fee for that.”

Warren just had the time to look up before she dropped down on him. But instead of being knocked down, he caught her and threw her a good twenty
feet away. Spike couldn’t suppress a wince as she landed hard on her back.
She struggled to her feet as Warren strolled toward her. Growling, Spike approached them, oblivious to the insults they traded back and forth. His anger grew even hotter as that kid landed a couple of hard blows Buffy should have been able to avoid easily. No doubt about it, she was more hurt than what she had admitted. Grabbing Warren’s arm as he was going to hit again, Spike twisted it roughly behind him… and was instantly punished by the chip. He released his grip immediately and clutched his head, roaring at the piercing pain. Warren didn’t have time to spare the agonizing vampire a second glance, as Buffy grabbed the ripped armored car door and swung at him, sending him to crash into an archway. He shook the blow off, laughing,
until the arch above him broke loose and buried him under rubble.

Buffy gave a quick look at Spike, worry shining in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, grinding his teeth. “Get the two other wankers.”

She followed the direction of his gesture, and strode purposefully to Andrew and Jonathan. Spike barely paid attention, angry that he was so utterly useless to her in this particular fight. As he had seen Warren’s abnormal strength, Spike had forgotten a small detail. He was human. And the chip didn’t care that he was a criminal. Still scowling, Spike noticed that the pile of rubble was moving.

“Slayer!” he shouted warningly.

She spun, facing a laughing Warren as he approached her, brushing the dust off his clothes. As he did so, his jacket pulled back, revealing a small leather pouch hanging from his belt.

“Buffy! The pouch at his waist! Destroy the orbs!”

A scornful look passed through Warren’s face as he heard Spike’s words.

“As if…” he started.

In a jump, Buffy was by him, surprising him by the rapidity of her attack. She snatched the pouch away from him and crushed it on the ground. A red flash enveloped Warren and he grunted, staggering. With a nice kick to the chest, Buffy sent him flying backwards, at last landing a blow that had hurt. She approached him slowly, a predatory grin gracing her lips. Warren managed to get back to his feet, holding his chin high in front of her, and Spike wondered what she was about to do. She wouldn’t, couldn’t kill him. She was the Slayer, she was a vampire, but she was not a killer. Spike wished he could have taken care of the idiot for her; if anyone deserved a beating, or worse, it was him. But he could do nothing but stand there, useless, his fists closed so tight that his nails were breaking the skin of his palms.

“You're nothing but a sad little boy, Warren,” she said with barely a hint of anger piercing in her voice. “But it's time to grow up and pay for what you've done.”

“Get away from me!”

As he shouted, Warren stripped of his jacket, revealing, of all things, a jet pack strapped to his back.

“I swear to God I'm gonna take you down. You piece of…”

His last words were lost in deafening noise as he rose to the sky, leaving a trail of white smoke behind him. Buffy looked up at him, utterly disappointed.

“Oh come on!” she growled, her lips settling on a pout.

Noise caught Spike’s attention, and he turned in time to see one of the other idiots - Andrew? - shoot up in the air, propelled by the same kind of rocket as Warren, and immediately slam into the overhanging roof structure above him. The last member of the group looked down at his stunned acolyte, then turned his eyes to Buffy, his hands rising unthreateningly. A police siren was wailing, coming undoubtedly in their direction.


* * * * *


Through the window of the master bedroom, Spike was watching the garden. It was morning, but dark clouds blocked the sun, and his Slayer was down there, pacing. He wanted to join her, but she needed time to think about what he had told her.

He wanted the chip out. He hadn’t asked her opinion about it, he had simply told her that he wanted it out. And he was going to get it out, even if he had to go halfway around the world for that. He had never liked being useless - who did? - and watching her fight Warren while she was hurt, being able to do nothing to help her, had been intolerable. It couldn’t go on like that. It was time for the chip to come out. He had thought about it all night long, there was no other way.

Of course, she was reticent. She hadn’t told him flat out not to do it, but he knew her well enough to read the emotions she tried to hide. Mostly, she was afraid, and he thought he knew why. She was afraid he would go back to killing if the chip ever stopped working. He couldn’t blame her to think that, really. She knew the hunger now, knew what it was like to fight a famished demon raging and screaming for blood. He wished he could make her see, make her believe at last, that he was stronger than the demon. That he could go on living on blood bags. That all he wanted was the knowledge that he could protect her at all time if needed.

Someone approached Buffy, and he recognized Willow. He wondered what
they were talking about. Him, or the escaped wanker?

“Spike?”

The timid call made him turn toward the door. He gave the witch a half smile.

“Hey Glinda.”

She took a step toward him, hesitant.

“You… You wanted to talk to me?”

He nodded, passing a nervous hand through his hair.

“Yeah… I have a favor to ask you. ‘Was wondering whether you’d be able to magic the chip out of my head. Or just zap it or something.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and she blinked several times.

“I… I don’t know. Even if I could, I’m not sure… what does Buffy think about it?”

He laughed half-heartedly. He hadn’t put much hope on this, so he wasn’t too disappointed. Still, it somewhat hurt. Did any of them really trust him?

“She likes the idea of a chipless Spike just as much as you do,” he said dejectedly.

“Spike, it’s not…” she started, then hesitated. She was silent for a few seconds, studying him.

“If I could,” she said finally, her voice slightly firmer, “I would do it. I don’t believe you would get all evil without it. You love her too much for that.”

He nodded, the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips.

“But I don’t think I can do it,” she added, almost apologetic. “It would be really tricky, messing with…”

The sound of broken glass. Pain.

Unable to understand what was going on, Spike stared at Tara, who in return was watching him with horror. The front of her shirt was splattered with blood. His blood, he realized as pain made him sink to his knees.

Part 41

Bullets and Magic


As she came toward Buffy, Willow cast a worried glance toward the sky. Really, her friend shouldn’t be taking chances like this. The clouds could clear out in a minute, and then poof… Still, Buffy didn’t seem concerned about that danger at all. She was pacing restlessly, an habit she seemed to have picked up from Spike.

“Hey there,” Willow said cheerfully.

“Hi Will. What are you doing here so early? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your classes?”

Willow nodded absently, noticing that, despite her forced smile, Buffy sounded upset.

“Spike called,” she answered, “He wanted Tara to drop by. He wouldn’t tell why though. Do you know what he wants from her?”

By the slight frown that touched her forehead, she knew. But the frown disappeared instantly, and again, the forced smile came back.

“Nothing to worry about,” Buffy said with false brightness. “Enough worries with the Evil Uno.”

“The sinister yet addictive card game?”

Even bad jokes were not working, and Buffy only gave her a blank look.

“You'll find him,” Willow declared optimistically. “He won't be much good without his friends.”

“No. He won't.”

Buffy’s words were quiet, and Willow understood she wasn’t talking about
Warren anymore. They shared a smile, and at last it looked natural on Buffy’s lips. Willow was about to suggest getting inside, as the sky looked like
it was clearing out, but something behind Buffy caught her eye.

“Buffy…”

Her friend turned to see what she was looking at. Warren. He was in the back end of the yard, his face twisted by rage and almost unrecognizable.

“You think you can just do that to me?” he yelled. “That I'd let you get away with it? Think again…”

As he finished talking, he raised a gun toward them and opened fire, several detonations exploding in a quick succession. Instantly, Buffy shoved Willow to the ground, and the redhead was slightly stunned for a second. She regained her senses just as Warren stopped shooting, and thoughtlessly she gestured toward him, words escaping her lips. She stared at him for a second, as he was now trapped in a cage of air. She had used magic instinctively, without even realizing what she was doing. Surely Tara would understand…

Abruptly, she was brought back to more immediate matters by a growl. Buffy was on the ground, vamped out, her chest soaked in blood. Willow’s first thought was that she couldn’t let her friend die. A quick look at her golden eyes reminded her that it wouldn’t happen, at least not because of a bullet.

“Buffy?” she called hesitantly. “Are you… ok?”

Buffy’s hand rose to her chest, pressing against the wound, as if trying to stop her own blood.

“God that hurts…”

She started struggling to get up, and Willow helped her to her feet, holding her steady.

“Let’s get you inside,” she suggested. “Can you walk?”

Buffy nodded, though her teeth were bared in a snarl. If it had been any other vamp, even Angel or Spike, Willow would have been afraid.

“Warren…” she said suddenly, turning her head to look at him.

“He can’t go anywhere,” Willow informed her.

“What if… someone sees him?”

It was weird how she was panting, as if struggling for breath, Willow thought worriedly. She didn’t need to breathe, so why was she?

“I’ll get him inside once you’re settled down, and lock him in the basement
until we have taken care of your wounds. Ok ?”

Again, a nod was all the Slayer could manage for an answer. With Willow’s
help, she staggered to the house, and sat down in the kitchen.


* * * * *


“Bloody hell! I had forgotten how much that hurt!”

Clasping a hand to his chest, Spike raised his face toward Tara. The Witch was so pale, he could have believed she was the wounded one.

“Hey there Glinda,” he tried to say lightly despite the pain, “Don’t you worry, I’ll live. Mostly.”

She blinked and took a step toward him, reaching out hesitantly.

“What… what happened?” she stammered.

He struggled to get to his feet, grateful for her hand holding his arm gently.

“Bullet, by the feel of it,” he grunted. “Got in and out. You’re lucky it didn’t…”

A horrible thought suddenly ran through his mind. The bullet had came in from outside. From the backyard. The backyard where his Slayer was.

Unsteadily, he walked to the broken window, and couldn’t help the growl that rose in his throat. All he could see was Buffy lying on the ground, wounded too.

Absently shaking off the Witch’s hand, he stumbled toward the door, grinding his teeth not to groan with each step. He was still pressing a hand to his chest, and was dimly aware of the blood oozing from the wound in his back, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that did was that Buffy was hurt.

Finally, he reached the bottom of the stairs, and followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. His mind barely registered Willow stepping out through the back door. All his attention was focused on his bleeding Slayer. As steadily as he could, he walked to her, wincing at the pain that was flashing through her gold eyes. She moaned his name, and he would have given his unlife to make the hurting stop. He kneeled next to her, glancing at her back and finding it clear of blood. Gently, he pulled her hand away from her wound and inspected it, fighting his instinct to lick it clean.

“It’s ok, luv,” he cooed. “I know it hurts, but you’ll be ok.”

He reached up with his clean hand and caressed her face soothingly. Her eyes and their fire ran over him, and when they locked with his again, more than pain was flowing through them. Worry.

“You’re hurt too.”

He was about to tell her it was nothing, and in truth he had been shot worse than this before, but he was interrupted by the door opening. Warren stepped in, and Spike shifted to game face, growling instinctively. Then he noticed that the wanker was not walking, but rather floating. The explanation
came when Willow entered the kitchen behind him, closing the door carefully.
Her eyes first settled on Buffy and Spike, and she gave a little start when she saw his angry countenance.

“I got him,” she said quickly, “he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Then she noticed Tara, who was standing by the table, her front still covered in blood. Willow’s face paled, and for a second Spike was sure she was going to kill Warren, right then and there, with her bare hands if needed. Apparently, her girlfriend had the same thought, and she raised an appeasing hand.

“I’m fine, it’s not my blood.”

Gingerly, Willow approached Tara, as if afraid to believe she was indeed alright.

“Oh baby… I got so scared…”

The Witches hugged, seemingly forgetting the bad guy standing right behind them and the two vampires bleeding… well, not bleeding to death, but still…

“My God the Slayer is a vamp!”

Warren’s startled exclamation brought everybody’s attention back to him. Spike could only think of one thing. He was going to find a way to get the chip out, and when he did, he already knew who he would try to hurt as a test. More than try. More than hurt.

“Willow,” Buffy hissed through almost clenched teeth, “Can you take him down to the basement until we decide what to do with him?”

One witch went down the steps with the bound idiot, the other ran to fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom. Meanwhile, Spike led Buffy to the dining room and coaxed her to lie on the table.

“We have to get that bullet out of you, luv,” he explained gently.

As he smoothed her hair away from her face, she shifted back to her human features. He tried to do the same thing, but didn’t manage to. The pain from his wound, combined with his anger and worry, made it impossible to concentrate enough for that. Finally the Witches were back.

“We need something to extract the bullet from her chest,” he said, trying not to growl.

“What can we use?” Tara asked, depositing bandages and compresses next
to Buffy on the table.

“I can…” Willow started, but stopped immediately, biting her bottom lip.

A look passed between the two girls, charged with a lot of tension, and Spike wondered what was going on that he wasn’t aware of. Finally, Tara nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off Willow.

“We can use magic to draw it out,” she said slowly. “Together. I’ll shield you from using too much. Like I did for the soul spells.”

Willow’s face suddenly brightened with a grateful smile.

“Girls,” Spike grunted, “stop with the dovey looks and get to work already.”


* * * * *


Lying flat on the table, Buffy was staring at the ceiling, her eyes following imperceptible cracks in the plaster. The pain in her chest was still throbbing, but she was used to it now, as much as one could get used to pain. Not moving helped. Knowing that Spike was within reach helped too. He was wounded also, and she couldn’t help but wonder by what sick twist of fate they had both been shot, while one of them was in the garden and the other on the second floor of the house. And as she lay there, immobile, waiting for someone to do something, anything, to take the pain away, the words he had said earlier came back to her.

I want the chip out. I need the chip out. And I will have the chip out.

Part of her mind told her that, if the chip had been out just a day before, this wouldn’t have happened, because he would have helped her defeat Warren right away. Another part argued that his idea of helping her probably would have included snapping Warren’s neck. And even if Warren was a murderer,
she still couldn’t let Spike kill a human for her. She had seen the look he gave Warren when Willow brought him in, and it only confirmed what she
thought.

Finally, there was movement around her, and Willow’s face leaned above hers.

“Don’t move, Buffy,” she said with a confident smile. “You’ll be all better in a minute.”

Buffy tried to return the smile, but it ended more like a grimace. She looked down to her chest, above which Willow’s hand was hovering. Her other hand was clasping Tara’s, and a faint light seemed to flow between the two Witches. Then Buffy saw it. The bullet. Coming straight out from her flesh, as if in slow motion, and flying right into Willow’s hand. Next, she felt the blood stop seeping from the wound, the pain vanishing slowly. Willow stepped back one step, and tentatively Buffy brought a hand to her chest, searching for the wound. It was gone, replaced by tender scar tissue. She looked at her friends, forcing words out of her dry mouth.

“Thanks. ‘Feel much better.”

Her eyes found Spike, standing next to the two girls, his hands gripping the back of a chair to support himself. Despite the pain he was obviously in, he appeared relieved to see sit up and climb down from the table. She walked to him, intent on helping him stand as he had helped her.

“Can you do the same for Spike?” she asked Willow and Tara.

They exchanged a quick glance, before nodding both at the same time. Again, Willow’s hand moved above Spike’s chest, and this time Buffy could
see through the ripped material of his shirt as his flesh was knit back together, on his chest as well as on his back. When her hand fell down, Willow staggered a little, as if exhausted, and Tara made her sit down. Spike’s hand touched the new scar, as Buffy had done, and a curse escaped
his lips, half incredulous, half amazed. His face shifted to his human countenance, and Buffy realized she hadn’t even noticed it was gold that was looking at her instead of blue. He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair, and she closed her eyes in pure contentment. Forgotten were pain, anger, surprise, fear. In his arms, she was safe.

Part 42

To Trust


Half an hour later, Spike, Buffy and Tara had changed out of their bloodied
clothes, and were sitting with Willow in the kitchen. The two vampires had drunk three blood bags each, and more blood was warming in the microwave.
Willow was munching on an apple. From what she had explained, her lack
of recent practice as well as Tara buffering her against drawing too much
magic were the reasons why she had felt faint for a moment.

As he had watched her draw the bullet out of Buffy’s body, an idea had
come to Spike. She could do the same thing for him. Magic the chip out.
He had asked Tara, knowing that Willow wasn’t doing anything magical anymore, but apparently that time was over. He was planning to talk to her about it later. At the moment, a more urgent matter needed to be discussed, even if the three girls seemed reluctant to talk about it.

“What do we do about Warren?” Spike said finally, looking at them all
in turn, his eyes ending on Buffy.

She stared at him with fierce determination.

“One thing is sure, we do not kill him, so don’t even suggest it.”

He shook his head slowly, wishing she could understand how scared he
was for her. “He tried to kill you, Slayer. And he saw you in game face.
You can’t just let him go away.”

“He’s human,” Tara said, looking at Spike almost shyly. “He should be
judged and go to jail.”

Willow nodded, though she seemed hesitant. “Giving him to the police
sounds good. But now he knows that Buffy is a vampire…”

“And if we just send him to jail the whole demon population will know
before a week is passed,” Spike finished. “I still think he should be eliminated. Human or not.”

The microwave beeping punctuated his calm statement, and Spike got to
his feet, grabbed the two mugs, and gave one to Buffy. She didn’t pay attention to it though, her eyes piercing him as if trying to see through him.

“Ask me again why I don’t like the idea of your chip coming out,” she
said softly. “Without the chip, you would have killed him the moment Willow
brought him in. It was written all over your face.”

Spike could feel the demon stirring in him, still angry, still thirsty. He knew his eyes were probably flashing gold. In the aftershock of being shot and healed, she had clung to him like the apocalypse was only a minute away. Now that the moment had passed, the heated discussion they had had
in the morning was back into her mind it seemed. He tried to control his
voice not to sound too angry.

“You were thinking the same thing. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“The idea came to me, yes,” she admitted. “But I would never act on
it. I don’t kill people. I have a soul.”

The last words, a mere whisper, rang in Spike’s ears, stinging as a slap.

“The wanker has a soul too,” he growled. “He still tried to kill you.”

“We’re not talking about Warren here,” she said quietly.

And just like that, they were back to square one. She had a soul, he didn’t. Unable to go through this with her again, Spike drew a pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his jeans. He was about to light one when Buffy’s reproachful gaze stopped him.

“I need it,” he hissed.

“Not here,” she protested.

He cast a glance to the window, frowning at the bit of blue sky he could
see. Why had the clouds cleared so fast?

“I’ll go check on the wanker,” he growled, “and see if I can give him
cancer from second hand smoking.”

She seemed about to object, but finally didn’t say anything. She had
let him smoke down there before, and it wasn’t like he would be able to
do any harm to the idiot while they lost their time discussing his fate.

He sat on the steps, at last lighting the damn fag, studying the wannabe
Big Bad in the middle of the room. A nice trick, Willow had there. To the
unwarned eye, Warren seemed free of his movements. But he wasn’t moving
at all, merely scowling angrily. As he looked at Spike, a small smile appeared
on his face.

“Hey Spike. Care to give me a hand? There’s a lot of cash in it for you.”

Spike didn’t reply, taking a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes never leaving Warren. Deliberately, he shifted to game face for a brief instant, satisfied when the stupid kid’s smile faded. Things were about to become interesting, he thought suddenly.

“The only reason I’m not killing you,” he said conversationally, “is that the Slayer wants to finish you herself. You got her really pissed off, you know. Right now she’s trying to decide how she’s gonna do it. I told her to go for the easy way and drain you. It’s a shame to let blood get wasted, even the blood of a wanker like you. Still the girl likes weapons. She’s wondering what a stake can do to a human heart. And of course, she’s always been a big fan of swords. You should see her collection. ‘Can’t wait to see what she will choose. Any preference?”

By now, Warren was as pale as death itself. Spike watched him shake,
smelled the waves of fear coming from him, and couldn’t help grinning.

“I’ll go see if she decided yet,” he said as he flicked the remains of the cigarette by Warren’s feet. “It’s not right from her to keep you waiting, after all.”


* * * * *


Buffy stared at the basement door long after Spike had closed it behind
him. He was angry, and she could understand why. She wished she could make herself trust him more, really believe that, even with the chip gone, he
wouldn’t kill. But it was hard, especially after seeing the hatred on his
face when he had looked at Warren. And yet… he had a point

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Buffy told her two friends, “Spike
is right. We can’t just let Warren go. If the word goes out that I’m a
vamp, demons will be lining at the door to take me out.”

Both Witches nodded, and for a couple of minutes none of them spoke.
They couldn’t kill Warren. But they couldn’t let him go. Finally, Tara
broke the silence, and it was painfully obvious that she was deliberately
not looking at Willow.

“We can do a spell,” she said quietly. “Make him forget what he saw.
Make him forget that he even shot you, since that would raise questions.”

Buffy dared a glance at Willow, finding that the redhead was blushing brightly.

“Tara…” she began in a trembling voice.

A finger coming to rest on her lips stopped her. Buffy busied herself in her mug of blood, wondering whether she ought to leave them for a minute.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything,” Tara whispered. “You’ve proven
that you can stay away from magic. It doesn’t mean that you can’t use it
when someone is in danger.”

Willow nodded, swallowing heavily, looking immensely grateful. A bit
uncomfortable, Buffy cleared her throat discreetly.

“A forgetting spell sounds good. I guess you need ingredients or stuff?”

The tension in the room was broken. Before long, the Witches hurried out to the Magic Box, with the promise to be back quickly. For a couple of minutes, Buffy remained alone, playing with the mug in her hands. Obviously, Tara had forgiven Willow, and trusted her enough to do magic with her again. The reason was simple to guess. She loved her. Buffy had forgiven all the harm Spike had done to her, and he had forgiven her in return. She trusted him with her life, as well as her friends’ and sister’s. Could she trust him with other people’s lives? She remembered all too well unleashing Angelus on Sunnydale, and how she had put an end to that episode. She was scared
senseless the same thing would happen if Spike’s soul was out of the equation.

As she was reflecting on this, Spike came back in the kitchen, an odd little grin on his lips, and she wondered for an instant whether Warren was alright down there. The grin however disappeared as soon as he looked at her.

“Luv… Why are you crying?”

She brought a hand to her face, finding it damp with tears she hadn’t even realized she had shed. She shook her head, trying to speak, but only a sob came out. He walked to her, pulling her up into his arms, cradling her against him. The familiar motion of his hand stroking her hair soothed her, as well as the nonsense words he whispered in her ear.

“I couldn’t bear it,” she managed to say after a few minutes. “If you started killing again, I would have to come after you and I couldn’t bear it.”

Pulling away from her just enough to see her face, he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Why are you so sure I will go back to killing when the chip is out?”

Unhappily, she noticed that he had said when, not if. His decision was made, and she doubted she could change it whatever she said.

“I saw the look you gave Warren,” she said, repeating what she had said
earlier.

A hint of gold went through his eyes, but the anger was quickly gone,
replaced instead by worry.

“Buffy, he hurt you! You can’t blame me for thinking about hurting him back. But that doesn’t mean I would. You know why?”

She shook her head, though she had a little idea.

“If I killed him,” he said softly, “if I killed anyone, it would hurt you. And I can’t hurt you. So you see, I can’t kill. I don’t need a soul, I have you.”

His eyes were looking straight at hers, as if pleading her to search in them and see that he was telling the truth. For a few minutes, she let herself drown into the ocean blue depths. When she came back up, she knew.

“I trust you.”

Part 43

Research


At last, it was closing time for the Magic Box. The day had been long and nerve-wrecking for Buffy. It had started with Spike’s little announcement
about his chip. It had grown even worse with Warren and his rampage. Even
if bullets couldn’t kill her, Buffy sincerely hoped not to encounter one
again any time soon, or even ever. The experience had been unpleasant to
say the least. Thankfully, the events had gone slightly better after that.
Willow and Tara had healed her and Spike, before solving the problem that
was Warren with a nifty little memory spell. Then they had called the police,
and made up a nice story about Warren breaking into the house. Dawn had
come home from school just as the police was leaving, which had given her
a slight panic episode. Even now, a few hours after the fact, she still
seemed a little pale.

As Anya locked the door behind the last customer, Buffy’s gaze traveled
around the room. Dawn was sitting on the ladder, listening as Willow was
retelling for Xander’s benefit what had happened earlier. Anya had already
heard most of it when the Witches came for supplies. A bit puzzled, Buffy
noticed that only herself, Spike and Anya were actually sitting around
the table. Willow and Xander were perched up on the counter, and Tara was
standing next to them. Abruptly she realized why her friends were avoiding
the table, and she felt a new wave of satisfaction run through her at the
idea that the nerds were locked away. No more messing up with her life…

“And so the mighty Scoobies have defeated one… errr, three more Big
Bads!” Xander said cheerfully.

“Oh please,” Spike snorted, “more like three big idiots!”

The two men bickered back and forth, like they always did, but the quips
weren’t meant to hurt as they used to be. They hadn’t been after each other’s
throats since the happy couple had returned from their honeymoon, and not
for the first time Buffy wondered what could have happened to change things
between Xander and Spike. Right after she had been turned, Xander had been adamant about Spike deserving to be staked. And now, it seemed like the farthest thing in his mind.

“The bad guys are in jail,” Anya interrupted the banter, “so why are
you all here?”

All eyes turned to Buffy. She had been the one to request that everyone
gather at the Magic Box. It was time to tell them why.

“I called a research meeting to… actually, to help a demon instead of
killing one, for a change.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, human habits were hard to break, and reached for Spike’s hand. He had agreed to ask the Scoobies for help, but he had also made it clear that he didn’t expect much from them.

“We need to find a way to de-chip Spike,” Buffy said slowly, enunciating
each word clearly.

Five pairs of eyes looked at her with surprise. Xander was the first
to find his voice back.

“Uh, Buffster. Are we sure we want to do that?”

The faintest smirk appeared on Spike’s lips, and Buffy was sure she
knew exactly what he was thinking. It hadn’t taken much time for Xander’s
natural mistrust to resurface. But then, the same Xander said something
completely unexpected that made both Buffy and Spike stare at him incredulously.

“As dead as the bleached evil is, messing with his brain can’t be that
good.”

There was a pause, then Spike shifted his focus to Willow and asked:

“Red, can you magic the bloody thing out of my head? Like you did for
the bullet in the Slayer’s chest?”

Absently, Buffy rubbed the spot on her chest that was still a little
tender. Spike had said the scar would fade, but she would never forget
that particular wound, inflicted not by a demon but by a human.

Willow shook her head and her voice sounded contrite when she answered
Spike’s question.

“There was an open way for the bullet to come out. If I do the same
thing for you, the chip could rip through your brain really badly.”

Spike only nodded, but Buffy could guess his disappointment.

“We can look for another spell,” Tara suggested almost immediately.

“Or we can try to find a doctor demon or something like that,” Dawn chimed in.

After only a couple of minutes, everyone was around the table, and various
books were being researched for any relevant information. Buffy noticed
that Spike was the only one who wasn’t actually reading, and he certainly
looked as baffled as she felt.

“Wait a minute you all,” he said after a while, his voice raucous. “No one has any objection about me being able to hurt and kill humans again?”

Looks were exchanged around the table, and finally Anya asked:

“You’re not going to, are you? Kill humans again, I mean.”

Everybody looked expectant, but at the same time the Scoobies seemed
to already know the answer to that question.

“No, I’m not going to,” Spike mumbled at last

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his duster, and Buffy could almost have sworn his hands were shaking. Both she and Anya gave him a disapproving
look as he was about to light his cigarette, and he rolled his eyes at them before striding to the backroom.

As the door closed on him, Buffy cleared her voice, bringing everybody’s
attention back to her.

“You all really mean it?” she asked quietly. “You really trust him?”

Dawn answered first, with an almost exasperated “Of course!”. Tara simply
nodded, Anya shrugged.

“I can’t deny there’s a little voice in my head that says it’s a bad
idea,” Xander said slowly. “But there’s that other voice that says, Spike
has been working with us for so long, even when we all treated him like
a thing. Why would he throw everything away now that we treat him like
a Scooby?”

Willow nodded, agreeing with Xander’s words.

“And we could still give him a soul if he looks like he’s going to… uh… slip,” she said thoughtfully. “Or even, we could give him one right away.”

Buffy considered the idea carefully. A soul… Spike with a soul… It sounded
weird, really. For a second, she wondered what he would be like, whether
he would be the same Spike or become William the bloody poet as he had
been when he was human, or maybe even someone completely different. No
way to tell, really. And one thing was sure, she wasn’t willing to risk
losing the man she loved, not after admitting to him she trusted him.

“He doesn’t need a soul,” she said after a moment, realizing that they
were all waiting for her to say something. “I have one, that’s enough for
the two of us.”


* * * * *


Spike closed the door behind him and leaned against it, finally lighting
his fag. Of course not, his hands were not shaking. Why would they? Why
would he care that the bloody Scoobies were looking for a way to take the
chip out of his brain?

He took a long drag on the cigarette, his head coming to rest against
the door. He could hear them talking. They did trust him, it wasn’t just
an act they had pulled up while he was there. Even the Whelp. Even Red…

His eyes narrowed when he heard her propose to give him a soul. They
wouldn’t dare, would they? They wouldn’t turn him into a bleeding nancy
boy without even asking his opinion, right? He didn’t want a soul. He didn’t
need a soul. William was still inside him, had always been. Not strong
enough to fight the demon, but he was there…

She said no. His Slayer had said no to giving him a soul. If at all possible, he loved her even more for it.

He had finished the cigarette already, but he couldn’t go back there yet, he needed to calm some more before that. Sitting on the floor, he pulled out another cig. Who was he kidding… He didn’t need a soul to turn into a nancy boy. He just needed a bunch of humans to treat him like one of them.


* * * * *


After several hours, the research had yielded no result, and everyone
was losing hope. There didn’t seem to be any spell to remove a foreign
object from a brain without damage, and it didn’t seem like there was any
demon out there whose hobby was to play doctor. Angrily, Buffy closed the
book she had been going through, the loud noise startling all the Sccobies.

“It’s useless,” she said with irritation. “We’re not going to find the
answer in these books.”

She eyed Willow’s laptop, and completed her rant:

“Or on the Internet.”

They all looked tired and discouraged, even Spike. Yet, Dawn tried to
sound cheerful when she said:

“We can’t give up! We’ll just have to find more books.”

“It might have helped if Giles hadn’t taken some books back to England,
“Anya commented with a touch of resentment. “He said they were his, but…”

“Giles! That’s it!”

At her exclamation, all gazes turned to Willow.

“He has tons of books,” she said brightly, “but he can also ask the
Council. Maybe they would know how to help…”

She stopped, realizing what she was saying. It was very unlikely that the Council of Watchers was going to do anything at all to help the Vampire
that had slain two Slayers.

“Well, maybe Giles at least could help,” she said, not sounding at all
convinced.

“We’ll just try,” Buffy said with a sigh, though she doubted that her Watcher would give even the time of day to Spike. Then again, she had thought
the same things about the Scoobies just a few hours before.

“Hi Giles!”

A grunt was the only answer, and Buffy wondered whether she had made
a mistake while dialing.

“Giles?”

“Buffy, do you know what time it is on this side of the Atlantic?”

Buffy grimaced, realizing that in her haste she had forgotten about
the time difference.

“Sorry, I forgot.”

Giles sighed, and Buffy could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, I guess you want to know about the Council? I’m surprised you
didn’t call sooner, by the way. I explained the situation to them. I think
they understood it would be a very bad idea to try anything against you.”

“Oh, good. But that’s not what I’m calling about…”

She hesitated, suddenly sure that this was a stupid idea. He was either
going to yell, or get a cardiac arrest.

“Buffy? Could you go on with it so I can go back to sleep?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. We’ve been trying to figure out a way for Spike to get rid of the chip and we have found nothing, and we thought maybe you would know of someone or something to help.”

Silence. Deep, ominous silence.

“Giles? You’re still there?”

“Yes I am. But could you repeat what you said? I thought I heard you
say you wanted Spike to be chip free, and of course…”

“That’s exactly what I said, Giles.”

“Oh.”

Again, silence.

“You realize that without the chip he will be able to kill humans.”

“Yes Giles, I know. But we all believe he won’t.”

“Who is ‘we all’?”

“All the Scoobies.”

“All the Scoobies,” Giles repeated, bemused.

“Are you going to help us?”

Long silence. His silences were so much worse when she couldn’t see Giles face. No hint of what he was thinking, no way to know what he would decide until he actually voiced it.

“I do not know if I will find anything,” he said at last, sounding tired.
“But I will research the matter.”

Buffy let out a big sigh, and gave a thumb up at her friends still gathered
around the table. Spike arched an eyebrow at her, probably not believing
that Giles would even accept to help.

“Thank you so much, Giles!”

“Yes, well, I don’t promise anything. I’ll let you know. Oh, and Buffy,
I’ll be the one calling next time, alright?”

Part 44:

Blue Skies


For the third time in an hour, Buffy pounded of the bedroom door. Their
bedroom, now. Or it would be as soon as Spike consented to let her see
what he had done to it. She had agreed to let him transform it. Not agreed,
really, he had blackmailed her until she accepted. He could be quite persuasive when he wanted something. She had only managed to retain two conditions. No black, no red. Granted, they were his favorite colors, but they weren’t hers.

The door finally opened, just enough for one blue eye to look at her
through the crack. An annoyed blue eye.

“Slayer, the more you interrupt, the longer it will take to finish.”

She tried to look through the opening, but he was blocking too much
of it with his body for her to see anything.

“I just wanted to make sure your remembered the terms of…”

“No red, no black,” he interrupted her. “Anything else?”

Before she could think of anything else, he was closing the door again.
Irritated, Buffy crossed her arms and stared at the door, seriously thinking
about just kicking it open. He had been working in there for four days
already. Or rather, four afternoons. He was out late every night, patrolling
with her first then going around demon bars by himself, trying to find
any information about having the chip removed. It was useless, Buffy had
accepted it by now, but he hadn’t, and he kept looking. And kept coming
back home just before sunrise. Never too tired to wake her in delicious
ways, it seemed, but too tired to crawl out of bed before noon.

The Scoobies had looked through every single book at the Magic Box,
with no success. Willow was still looking on the internet, but with no
more results. Their last hope to find anything was Giles, and Buffy was
beginning to believe he had changed his mind about helping Spike.

Buffy realized she was still scowling at the closed door, as if he was
going to notice her irritation through the thick wood, and abruptly turned
away and stormed to the first floor. Maybe she could get him to open the
damn door by offering him some nice warm blood…

Dawn was in the kitchen, eating a snack. She grinned as Buffy strode in.

“Tried again, uh?”

Buffy only gave her sister a nasty glare. She had been allowed
in, supposedly to help him. And she refused to say anything! Dawn giggled,
unperturbed by Buffy’s scowl.

“Don’t you have any patience at all? He told you he would be finished tonight!”

Buffy had the sudden urge to stick her tongue out at the teen. It would have been utterly childish, but oh so satisfying. Both Dawn and Spike were having way too much fun with her impatience. She wasn’t afraid of seeing the result of Spike’s work, really. Just anxious. After all, what could she expect, decoration wise, from someone who had spent the last few years in a crypt?


* * * * *


Pleased with himself, Spike gave a last look to the room, making sure
everything was perfect. He had removed the mirror panels from the wardrobe,
useless reminders that neither of them had a reflection now. The walls
had been painted blue with the Nibblet’s help, a nice shade of ocean blue,
deep but not too dark, that made the room feel more intimate. The broken
window had been changed, and he had installed heavy drapes in front of
it, just a touch lighter than the walls. The cotton bedding was gone, replaced
by shimmering sensual silk. The candles that had lit his crypt had found
a second home, disseminated around the room in a carefully planned randomness. But what he was the most proud of was the ceiling, which had taken two complete days to finish. His only hope was that Buffy would like it.

He had never been before very interested in decorating the places in
inhabited, knowing that the next day he could be heading to another town,
country or even continent. Darla, Angelus and Dru had been pretty keen
on traveling, and he could admit that he enjoyed it too. Still, he had
already spent a few years in Sunnyhell, and it looked like he would be
there for a while, so he might as well make himself comfortable.

He had another reason to want to remain busy. If he had had nothing to occupy himself during the long hours of the day, he would have spent his time thinking about the chip and the lack of results in his research. A few weeks back, he would have remained in his crypt and drowned himself into cheap bourbon. But that wouldn’t do now. Not with the Nibblet and Buffy around. Dawn’s presence was also the reason why he wasn’t spending his time shagging his Slayer senseless. After all, he didn’t want to traumatize the kid by making her sister scream too much. An evil grin rose to his lips at the thought of how he would make her scream later, and how he would muffle her cries.

He grabbed a length of black silk that was laying on the bed and stuffed
it carelessly into his jeans back pocket. He would need it later, but now
was time for patrol. School had ended for Dawn, and she had extorted from
Buffy the promise that she would patrol with them once a week. In preparation of that, the Slayer had been showing the kid a few moves, though Spike didn’t plan to let anything get close enough for her to try to fight. He knew he would have to be cautious, though, and not protect her too obviously, or else she would use the most dangerous weapons of all on him… her puppy eyes.

He joined his two girls in the living room, where Buffy was giving a
few last minutes tips to an overexcited Dawn. As hard as she tried to hide
it, he could tell that Buffy was worried, and he had to admit he was too,
just a little. With both the Slayer and Spike with her, Dawn really wasn’t
going to be in any danger. Of course, anyone living on the Hellmouth knew
that Sunnydale was never completely safe for anyone.

That night, as most nights, the town was especially unsafe for its undead
denizens. Because of Dawn’s presence, the Slayer staked vampires even faster than usual, not bothering with a bit of fight beforehand. After five unexciting dustings, Dawn started to look bored, and Spike’s lips curled in a smirk around his cigarette. After a couple more dull patrols, he thought, she
would beg to stay home. Leaving her home alone didn’t make Spike particularly happy, but she was old enough not to need a babysitter.

At last they were back to Revello, having decided beforehand that they would make it a short patrol. The kid looked at him quizzically as he shed off his duster.

“How can you do that every night?” she asked, clearly dumbfounded. “Buffy
does everything and it’s really boring to watch.”

Spike chuckled softly, passing a hand in his hair. How could he explain
to her how much he loved the way the Slayer danced with her preys? She
wouldn’t understand, however he phrased it.

“Just making sure she’s ok,” he said, smirking. “The one time I didn’t
go with her she came back all bruised and…”

“Hey!” Buffy interrupted him. “I don’t need a babysitter! If that’s all you’re coming for, you can stay…”

His lips pressing hard against her mouth stopped her, and she gave in
to the kiss, her hands instantly locking at the back of his head, pulling
him closer to her.

“God! Get a room!”

Dawn’s mildly annoyed remark was followed by her noisy steps going toward
the living room and the tv being turned on. Spike pulled away from his
Slayer’s lips and gave her a mischievous smile.

“You heard the Nibblet. Let’s get a room.”

With that, he followed her up the steps. However, he stopped her before
she entered her bedroom, sliding the black silk length in front of her
eyes. She stilled instantly, and he delighted in the small shiver that
ran through her body as he caressed the back of her neck with his lips.
Taking her hand in his, he guided her to the master bedroom, locking the
door behind them.

“Wait,” he whispered into her ear as he left her by the door.

He moved around the room quietly, lighting candles and making sure she
wasn’t moving or peeking. When he was satisfied that the room was bright
enough, he returned to her, rewarding her patience with a fierce kiss that
left her panting. It always made him smile when her breathing instincts
came back, reminding him how he used to make her truly breathless.

He led her to the bed, peeling the clothes off her body before making
her lie flat on her back. As he watched her caress the silk under her,
he quickly divested himself of his clothing. Her skin had started to lose
its golden tan already, and her paleness on the dark blue sheet was striking.
He laid next to her on his side, leaning on his elbow, so that he could
see her face. His hand hovered above her body, just tracing her form without
touching her, and yet she seemed to feel him, quivering under his gaze.
Gently, he tugged at the blindfold, giving her her sight back, and waited
for her reaction.


* * * * *


Freed of the blindfold, Buffy blinked several times, trying to focus her eyes. As she took in the sight above her, her mouth opened in a silent O. She knew it was only the ceiling, knew she could stand up on the bed and touch it, but it still looked like the sky. A light blue sky, with a few fluffy clouds that she was sure would move any second now. She managed to pry her eyes away from the vision to look at Spike. He was smiling softly at her obvious delight.

“After I was turned,” he whispered, “I thought I would miss the sun, and I did. But I missed blue skies even more.”

Her gaze returned to the painted ceiling. She missed blue skies too.
She had begun catching careful glimpses of it through the windows every
time she had a chance. Dimly, she realized that he must have noticed, although he had never said anything about it.

As she gazed at the piece of sky he had created for her, for them -
and where had he learned to paint anyway? - she felt his lips caress her skin, trailing along her collarbone, coming to rest on the marks where
her neck and shoulder joined. His marks. He just nuzzled against them,
not making any move to open them again. She shivered at the contact, the
scars having become particularly erogenous.

“Spike?”

“Hmmm?”

Again, his lips were moving, mapping her skin as if it was unfamiliar territory.

“’Want to make this Heaven?”

He stilled against her for a second, then his face came up to hers,
and he looked at her questioningly.

“Make love to me,” she whispered, closing the small distance between
their lips.

Part 45

Bits of Heaven

Buffy’s mouth pressed against Spike’s, her tongue darting out to trace his lips. As they parted slightly, she accepted the invitation and slid in, caressing his tongue until it danced with hers.

His body was hovering over her, barely touching as he rested his weight
on one arm. His other hand was moving between them, alternating between
kneading and teasing her breast. She sneaked her arms around him and pulled him down until she could feel all of him pressed against her body. His
now trapped hand pinched her nipple and she broke the kiss, groaning, catching the sight of a small satisfied grin on his lips.

His mouth traveled down her jaw to her neck, and he startled sucking
on her skin. She tensed in anticipation of the bite and pushed his face
harder against her, but he kept on suckling, not even nibbling with blunt
teeth. She could feel his hardness against her abdomen and decided to tease
him back. She moved under him until he was nestled between her legs, just
pressing against her entrance, and began rocking her hips so that he was
brushing on the wetness there. The rhythm of his suckling became erratic,
as if he was losing his concentration, and Buffy grinned inwardly, her
hands running along the silk of his back.

After a few seconds of teasing, she tried to draw him forward, but he resisted until she let out a quiet frustrated whimper. The whimper was followed by a loud cry as he simultaneously entered her twice, his cock thrusting into her as his fangs broke her skin. Immobile inside her, he took a long hard pull on her blood and her body shuddered, her head thrown back in delight. His lips left her neck and he started moving, hard and deep, all the while whispering sweet naughty things to her. With each thrust, more and more sparks exploded in her core and ran through her body, making it shiver continuously.

She knew he was watching her face, could feel the intensity of his gaze
on her, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the sky above her. Light
blue was replaced by darker blue as his eyes came into her line of sight.
Concentration was apparent on his face, his unneeded breath becoming laborious. A word escaped his lips, louder than the rest, almost a groan, half demand and half plea.

“Bite.”

Without thinking twice, she obeyed, shifting instinctively as her mouth
fastened on his shoulder. He pushed hard in her as her fangs sank into
his flesh and she moaned as the first mouthful of blood slid down her throat.
His mouth found its way back to her neck and started suckling again, reclaiming the blood she was drawing out of him in rhythm with the motions of his hips. Above his shoulder she was looking at their sky, where a bright light was now gleaming, and she was sure that it was the sun. With that clear
certainty, she fell over the edge of pleasure. Her eyes closed at last
but the imprint of the light remained bright in her mind, warming her until
she thought she would burn. As her internal walls fluttered around him,
he thrust in once more, his body finally quaking with the release.

For a long moment, they both kept drinking, prolonging the waves of
pleasure for as long as they could. Finally, together as if they had planned
it, they stopped drawing out blood and licked clean the wounds they had
created. Still sheathed in her, Spike rolled their bodies until she was
laying on top of him. His hand caressed her face, and she felt the ridges
melt away under his touch.

“How was that for Heaven?” he whispered, sounding almost reluctant to
break the silence and the spell.

“Nice,” she purred.

His eyebrow arched and she chuckled, touching the scar with a soft finger.

“Ok,” she admitted. “Better than nice.”

His arms tightened around her as he grumbled.

“Damn right about that. Nice!”

Still chuckling at his mock outrage, she kissed him tenderly, before
letting herself fall to his side, unable to repress a moan as he slipped
out of her. Her head resting against his shoulder, her eyes came back to
the ceiling. Her sun was gone, but she could still feel its warmth.

“When you turned me, you said…”

She stopped and bit her lower lip, unsure whether it was a good time to talk about this.

His hand found hers, fingers entwining together and resting on her belly.

“I said you would go back to Heaven some day,” he said quietly, completing
her thought. “And I meant it.”

“How can you know such a thing? I’m a…”

Again, she couldn’t finish. Vampires were creatures of the darkness, he knew it as well as she did.

“You’re still the Slayer, luv. You’re the champion of light, the Chosen
One and all that. Whoever decides of these things wouldn’t let you out
of Heaven. You’ve earned your entry ticket a thousand times already.”

Despite the softness of his voice, the words had a bitter taste for Buffy.

“I don’t want Heaven,” she said at last. “Not if you’re not there with me.”

He had a quiet giggle and turned on his side to face her, his hand moving
to cup her face.

“Then we’ll just have to keep each other alive, luv. And steal little
bits of Heaven like this.”

His mouth descended on hers for a fierce kiss, and she returned it just
as fiercely, aware of his hands sliding on her body. Again, her gaze was
drawn back to the blue above, but quickly her eyelids closed in pleasure,
and she silently agreed with him. Bits of heaven would be more than enough.

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