Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where.
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com

Story notes : This is a sequel to my story His Childe. If you haven't read it, I strongly suggest you stop right here and go read it first, some things in here will make more sense if you do.

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To Win

Ashes settled around the Slayer, and she glared at Spike, hands on her hips, lips set in a pout. Smirking, the blonde vampire fished his cigarettes from his duster’s pocket and lit one, his eyes never leaving his Childe. She was truly an angel, he mused. Even clad in black as she was and pale from not having felt the sun on her skin in three years, she was still full of light.

She wore the black duster he had given her, her own black jeans and black boots, and a black shirt stolen from his closet. That was her slaying uniform. Gone were the flimsy tops and skirts. They were now reserved for going out to the Bronze or to movies, or even for staying home. It had begun with the duster, really. She had joked that since it was a twin of his, she might as well go for the whole look. Then she had started borrowing his shirts. Why take the
risk of ruining her own when she could simply wear his?

They were a common sight in the demon community, and their leather-clad silhouettes usually sent vampires or other nasties running. It didn’t save said nasties in the end, but it sometimes made for interesting hunting
games. One would have thought that demons would learn and stop coming to Sunnydale. After all, Buffy had been protecting her town’s nights for almost ten years. And still they kept coming, like moths attracted to the flame. The Hellmouth and its potential of destruction and chaos were hard to resist. That was what had attracted Spike in the first place, long ago, so he could understand the appeal. He understood, but he had no qualms about slaying his brethren or other demons.

He had started helping his Slayer when demons were the only creatures he could harm, but even now that he had lost the chip he still wasn’t killing humans. When it had come time to choose between fresh meals and his Childe, he had realized that it wasn’t much of a choice at all. That didn’t mean he wasn’t biting. But he chose his human prey very carefully and always made sure not to kill them. Buffy didn’t know about that, he wasn’t sure she would understand. He had said he wouldn’t kill, and he was keeping his word. That was all his Slayer needed to know.

His Slayer. The Angel of Death, some demons called her. Or the Black Death. These were the most innocent of her nicknames. He knew a few of his too, most of them insulting, for he was the demon who had betrayed the demon world to ally with the Slayer. He didn’t care what they called him, and laughed at the insults. But anyone who dared insult her where he could hear was begging for a painful death.

He still hung out in demon bars every now and then, which was where he heard the nicknames. But what he was after, those nights, were rumors. Any rumor, as slight as it may be, that the Slayer was a vampire. In three years, they had done a good job of keeping it a
secret. And Spike intended for it to remain a secret as long as possible. He knew that eventually someone would realize that she hadn’t been seen in the sun in a long time, or that she wasn’t aging. Until then, he kept his marks hidden - no reason to let anyone wonder who was biting him - and was on the look out for rumors, ready to end them before they could start to spread.

After a couple of minutes of pouting silence, Buffy got tired of his smirking smugness and stomped her foot in a childlike manner.

“You cheated. That last one was mine; you had no right to dust him.”

“If you had staked him faster,” Spike replied with an even larger grin, “I wouldn’t have had the chance to do it. That will teach you to play with your prey instead of dusting them. Final score: five for me and four for you.”

“You cheated,” she repeated stubbornly.

Flicking his consumed cigarette to the ground, Spike stepped toward Buffy and snaked an arm around her waist.

“Keep your whining for the Bit,” he said as he started pulling her with him. “You lose, I win, I get to pick the movie. Next time you’ll dust them faster if you want to win so badly.”

Still grumbling, she let him lead her out of the cemetery and toward their home. Grinning, he half listened to her recriminations. It wasn’t the first time he had taken her kill, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He liked a spot of violence as much as the next vampire,
but sometimes his beautiful Childe forgot that she was supposed to turn the vamps to ashes and not use them as punching bags. Of course, better that than using him as a punching bag, as she had sometimes
done before he turned her.

As they arrived home, she left him downstairs with Dawn to go and change out of slaying clothes. The nineteen-year-old was quick to sense her sister’s mood and gave Spike an amused look.

“You won?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Yep,” he replied with a grin. “No girly movie this time.”

They chatted about the patrol while waiting for the Slayer. Dawn had long ago given up on following them, just as Spike had once predicted to Buffy. She only tagged along when they had reinforcements, namely Steven. The young man visited Sunnyhell occasionally, supposedly to train with Spike and Buffy while getting some time away from his brooding poof of a father. But it was no secret that he came also to see Dawn. And truthfully, Spike couldn’t blame him.

From a pretty slip of a girl, his Nibblet had turned into a beautiful young lady. Long dark hair that hung to the small of her back, pretty doe eyes framed by thick eyelashes, a charming smile still so innocent, all of it complimenting her perfect figure. If he hadn’t loved Buffy so much and hadn’t considered Dawn like a sister, Spike could have been jealous of the way she looked at Steven. As it was, he was slightly worried. She could be nineteen, but she was still his Bit, and he would be damned again before he let the two teenagers be alone more than two minutes in a row.

Finally, Buffy returned, and as he watched her walk down the steps Spike tried to find an excuse to cancel the movie night, to just stay home and shag his lover senseless. She was simply smashing. Her dark red top encircled her neck but left her shoulders and back bare, clinging to her so tightly that it was obvious she wore nothing underneath. It stopped a couple of inches above her skirt, revealing a small expanse
of soft and delicate skin. The skirt itself was that long leather one he loved so much, and she knew he loved it and why. Fond memories that skirt brought back. Burning memories of a fight and a house crumbling around them. And something very close to Heaven in between the two.

Her blood red lips flashed him a teasing grin that said she knew exactly what he was thinking, and she asked in that too innocent voice of hers:

“So what movie did you pick, love?”

Vainly trying to call his borrowed blood back to his brain, Spike was unable to give her an answer. Dawn laughed at seeing him tongue-tied, knowing way too well as far as he was concerned how much the Slayer could affect him.

“If you can’t decide,” Buffy added sweetly, “then Dawnie and me will have to choose for you.”

With that, the giggling sisters walked out of the house and towards the car. Shaking his head, Spike followed them, hoping without hope that they would pick a short movie, or he might self-combust before the end of the evening.

Part 2

Revenge




The evening was nice for Buffy, though she doubted that Spike enjoyed it much. When he heard what movie Dawn and she had chosen he gave
her a nasty look that promised retribution, both for the outfit she had put on to tease him and for the movie he was being dragged to. Yet she didn’t really mind. His ways to get revenge could be quite interesting
and inventive, and always pleasurable.


As Spike drove them home, they were all discussing college. Dawn would be starting at Sunnydale University six weeks later. For a while, she had been thinking about moving to LA, and Buffy had no doubt what, or rather who, she would have studied there. In the end, financial considerations had kept her on the Hellmouth. The money from the
Magic Box allowed all three of them to live - or unlive - comfortably, especially with the internet order site developed by Willow and run from their home on Revello Drive by the two vampires. But tuition was still expensive, and Dawn staying in Sunnydale was the most financially sound option.


Both Spike and Buffy were taking summer classes at the local community
college. They had started evening classes two years before, though the older vampire had been rather difficult to convince at first. They usually had classes three nights a week and were always out before ten, which left them ample time for patrols. For the summer semester, they were taking a class about mythology and literature together, and Buffy
was also following a course on creative writing. For some reason, Spike had been inflexible about that one and refused to take it with her. Instead, he was patrolling somewhat grudgingly by himself once a week when Buffy’s class met. But she knew he enjoyed it. The demon in him loved the hunt, and she understood it very well because her demon loved it too.


It was still difficult, sometimes, to think of herself as a vampire. Yes, there was blood in the fridge, expired human bags that Spike got from the hospital every couple of weeks, complemented sometimes by pig blood from the butcher if the supply ran low. Yes, there were heavy curtains on all the windows of the house, and she had long ago lost her golden Californian tan. She missed the sun, but even before being turned she had been used to the darkness and shadows that were her territory as a Slayer. Yes, there were bite marks on her from her Sire, just like her marks were on him. These weren’t about blood or feeding, they were about sharing, renewing the link between them. But despite the blood, the bites and the lack of sun, she sometimes forgot.


She had been trained to think of vampires as emotionless killers. She was a vamp now, but she still had emotions, strong ones, and she didn’t consider herself a killer. Angel had been the first to bring gray to her world of white and black, and Spike had later done the same. The difference between them was summarized in one word: soul. Angel was good because he had one; Spike was good despite not having one. She sometimes wondered which of them she would have been like if she hadn’t awakened, that fateful night, with a soul. She very much feared she would have been some kind of Angelus. Spike had a reason not to kill. She was his reason. What reason would she have had? That was just one of those ‘what if’ questions she still thought of every so often, aware that she would never know the answer to it.


They reached home at last and Spike parked in the driveway. He
still played poker and pool, indiscriminately with humans or demons, and
had saved up his winnings for a while to get a second hand car. He
was still whining every now and then about his long lost De Soto, but he
wouldn’t let Buffy drive the new favorite. He had taught Dawn to
drive with it despite the painted windows, and let her borrow it sometimes. But after one lesson he had declared Buffy unfit to drive. She had made a show of sulking and pouting about it, until he felt sorry and made it up to her. Yet, in truth, she didn’t care. Why learn to drive when she had her own personal chauffeur?


Dawn told her goodnights as they entered the house and went directly
to her room, while Buffy followed Spike in the kitchen. He set some
blood to warm in the microwave, two mugs even if she hadn’t asked.
Then he beckoned her to come to him and wrapped her in his arms.

“You say I’m a cheater, but you don’t play fair luv.”

He punctuated his words by playful nips along her exposed shoulders that made her shudder in delight. His hands were drawing soft patterns
on her back.


“What did I do?” she asked innocently.


“As if you didn’t know,” he growled softly, pulling her closer to him.
“See what you did to me?”


A soft noise escaped her lips as he ground his hips against her, making
her feel the hardness contained in his jeans. She rested her head
against his shoulder, simply enjoying the feel of him.


“I did nothing,” she said, more weakly that she would have wanted.

“Liar,” he hissed in her ear before pulling her earlobe into his mouth.

His right hand slid down her thigh, took hold of the leather and came back up slowly, pulling the skirt upward until it was gathered at her waist.
The same hand plunged back down, under the skirt this time, caressing his
way toward the apex of her legs. She gasped lightly as he cupped
her bare mound, just pressing against her flesh.


“You did nothing, you said,” he whispered against her cheek as he kissed
his way toward her mouth. “Wearing that outfit and nothing else under
it doesn’t qualify as ‘nothing’ to me.”


His tongue ran along her parted lips but made no intrusion into her mouth. In the same way, his hand was still flush against her but
unmoving. For several seconds they remained immobile, just watching
each other, until the microwave cycle ended with an obnoxious beeping. As if she had been waiting for a signal, Buffy grabbed his head with both hands and pulled his lips to hers for a deep kiss. Their tongues battled for an instant then danced, gliding along each other, old friends always eager to renew the contact.


Seemingly of its own volition, Buffy’s hand reached between them, unzipping
and unbuttoning his jeans before wrapping around his erection. Spike
groaned into her mouth and pushed her against the closest wall. He
grabbed her hips and lifted her, slipping into her easily as he brought
her back down. They both gasped as he stretched her slowly until
she enveloped him like a glove. Instinctively, Buffy wrapped her
legs around him, pulling him even closer if that was possible. They
broke the kiss and stared at each other for an instant, the same thought
and memory running through both their minds.

“Don’t bring the house down,” Buffy said with a grin.

Her Sire’s response was to claim her lips in a forceful kiss as he thrust
into her, crushing her between the wall and his body. She moaned
softly, her fingers tangling in his hair in a tight grip. Again and
again he slammed into her, his hands clasping her hips hard enough to leave
bruises, his lips never parting from hers and capturing all her cries.
As he accelerated his thrusting, she knew he was close to his release and
thoughtlessly shifted to game face. Instantly, his tongue was brushing
against her fang, liberating his blood in her mouth. However often
she drank from him, it was always a shock, the flavor and force so unlike
any other blood. As she started convulsing around him, she purposefully nicked her own tongue, returning his gift in kind. Immediately he followed her over the edge, falling with her into the abyss of pleasure.

The kiss lingered, soft and tender now that the urgency had been satisfied. Finally, with a sigh, Spike pulled away and allowed her to regain her footing.

“I love you so bloody much,” he whispered in her ear, his unnecessary
breathing ragged.

“I love you too,” she mumbled back.

Still trembling a little, she leaned against him, rubbing her face in
the crook of his neck. Never breaking the contact, he straightened
their clothing a little before gathering her in his arms and carrying her
to their bedroom. The blood mugs remained forgotten in the microwave until the following morning.

Part 3

Awakenings


Awakening slowly, Buffy stretched languidly, discovering without surprise that she was alone in the bed. Spike was usually up before her, and it seemed that spending the night doing something else than sleeping
was for him just as refreshing as resting. His stamina had found
its match in the Slayer’s, certainly, but she still needed sleep afterward. They were both roughly following a human schedule. In truth, Buffy had never adopted the vampire ways of sleeping during the day and going around at night, so it wasn’t hard for her. Spike on the other hand had never seemed to sleep a lot. Even when he was living in the crypt, he would sometimes show up at the Magic Box or at her home during the day, while still being around at night.

Still yawning a little, Buffy got out of bed and went to the bathroom
for a quick shower, wishing that Spike had stayed in bed as he sometimes
did, watching as he waited for her to wake. Those mornings, with
his help, she shook off the sleep far more quickly. Especially when he
showered with her…

With a sigh of regret, she stepped out from under the water and,
after drying herself quickly, put on a white lace teddy that she covered
with faded blue jeans and an unadorned white t-shirt. She could already
see in her mind the surprise and the delight on his face when he discovered
the scrap of lace under her plain outfit.

Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she went down to the kitchen, still
grinning at the little surprise she had for her lover, and wondering how
long it would take him to discover it. She warmed a little blood
and joined Spike in the dining room. They had converted it into a
makeshift office, and the large dining table was covered with two laptops,
a printer, diverse catalogs and shipping supplies.

Spike was in charge of maintaining the online store of the Magic Box.
Willow had introduced him to the joys and delights of web design, and surprisingly he had enjoyed it and excelled at it. He had laughed at the Scoobie’s initial shock of seeing him use technology comfortably, pointing out that, just because he had never had the opportunity to learn to use computers, it didn’t mean he wasn’t able to learn at all.

Buffy’s role was to check the orders they received and prepare the invoice. By the middle of the afternoon, she or Spike would go to the shop through the sewers and prepare the packages, leaving to Anya the task to go to the post office down the street. To make running errands from the house to the shop easier, Spike and Xander had painstakingly dug a narrow passage between the basement and the sewer tunnels, carefully concealed with a false wall and blocked by bars and locks.

As she entered the room, sipping her blood, Spike flashed her a beautiful
smile.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Good morning, vampire charming.”

She gave him a quick kiss, noticing that he was playing online video
games as usual, before settling in front of her own laptop.

Checking her email for new orders, Buffy found a couple, but also, and
more excitingly, a message from Willow.

“Will and Tara are in Ireland,” she said as she read. “They said
they loved Scotland and met some pretty powerful Wiccans there. Now
they’re in a little town near Dublin. They say it’s very beautiful.”

“Of course it is,” Spike replied absently.

She looked at him above her screen, frowning slightly.

“You’ve been to Ireland?”

He barely glanced at her before returning his attention to his game.

“Why does it surprise you? I’ve been through many countries in my years.
'Didn’t see much of the local attractions, but at least enough to get some
sense of what the land was like.”

Draining the rest of her mug slowly, Buffy thought about his words.
He rarely ever talked about his existence before Sunnydale. She figured he wasn’t too keen about telling her about his years with Drusilla, and
she had never pressed questions on him. Sometimes, though, she wished he would tell her a little about his travels.

“We’ll have to make a little trip around the world, some day,” he said quietly, this time with his eyes on her and not on the screen. “Just
you and me.”

She gave him a half smile. “Some day,” she repeated.

They had all the time in the world for that.


* * * * *


A little annoyed, Buffy was walking home from campus. Spike had
driven her there a little less than an hour before for her writing class,
and was supposed to come back for her two hours later. The class
had been cut short unexpectedly and when she had tried to call home no
one had answered. Dawn was out with some friends, and, in all likelihood, Spike was patrolling somewhere, passing time until the end of her class. She had to find him, or he would wait for her in front of the college for nothing.

Trying her luck, she directed her steps towards the closest cemetery,
and cheered mentally when she noticed his car parked in one of the adjacent
streets. She had a spare key and let herself into the car, wondering
whether to give him the surprise of his unlife when he came back to the
automobile. The windows being, of course, painted black, no one outside could see what was going on inside, a little fact from which they had taken advantage in the past. And he might enjoy very much finding his lover in the car, dressed in nothing but her lace teddy. Or maybe nothing at all…

As she was pondering her options, she noticed a sheet of paper on the
driver’s seat and curiously picked it up. It was a computer printout,
with the picture of a middle aged man, and some biographical information
such as his name, age, physical description and address. Beneath
that was what appeared to be a report from the police, or perhaps social
services. He was suspected of beating his wife and two children.
The report gave a few details and ended by saying that no judiciary action
was being taken because none of the supposed victims had consented to serve as witnesses.

Frowning, Buffy wondered why Spike had such a thing in his car, and
where he had gotten it in the first place. As she thought about it,
she noticed that the address listed was just a couple of blocks away.
Unsure of what to expect but feeling a knot forming in her stomach, she
got out of the car and started walking towards the street.

Before she got there, however, frightened shouts led her to an alley
that ran just behind the cemetery. Slayer’s instincts kicked in and
she had a stake in hand when she approached the source of noise.
However, the sight in front of her froze her in surprise, and the stake
escaped her grip, falling to the ground with a soft noise. The vampire
had his back to her, but he must have sensed her because he let go of his
victim, growling a few words at the man as he hurried away, staggering,
and a hand pressed to his neck. A small part of Buffy’s mind recognized the fleeing man as the abuser whom she had read about in the car. The rest of her was just focused on the blonde a few yards away from her, who had turned and was now looking at her through his human eyes, for once without his usual smile.

“I can explain, luv,” he said slowly.

“There is nothing to explain,” she replied, no expression whatsoever
in her voice.

Fighting the tears that were insistently rising to her eyes, she picked up the piece of wood on the asphalt and looked at it for a few seconds. When Spike had decided to get the chip out of his brain, she had sworn to him she would stake him if he returned to killing humans, and promised to herself she would be ashes seconds after him. She had been immensely relieved when he kept his word and did not hunt. Until now. Catching him red handed, or rather red fanged. Strangely enough, she was more upset by the thought of him lying to her and forcing her to hurt him than she was by the fact that he was a killer again.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, and could see that he was watching
her warily, as if not sure yet of what her reaction would be. But
he really should have known.

They sparred together once a week, and most of the time she managed
to get the upper hand, though it always took a lot of effort. The
question was, could she win a fight that was to end with one of them dead?

Trying not to think, she took a step toward him, then another, her resolve
strengthening a little as she pushed all feelings away from her.
In her mind, she kept repeating the same words, over and over again, as
if the litany could help her do what she was supposed to.

Not my love. Just a killer. Not my love. Just a
vamp. Not my love. Just a killer…

At last he seemed to realize what her intentions were as she was coming
closer, and took a step back.

“I’m sorry luv,” he said softly.

Part 4

Prey


Spike had hunted his prey to a nearby alley. The man had seen his game face and was clearly frightened. He shouted for help, but such cries in Sunnyhell were more likely to attract killers than good Samaritans.

“Do they cry for help when you beat them?” he growled softly as he approached the man with a predatory step.

The abuser and soon to be victim looked at him through widening eyes,
stuttering some nonsense excuses to which Spike didn’t pay any attention. He had been observing him for a couple of weeks, had heard the shouts from the garden where he hid, had caught glimpses of bruises and tears. Social services could always make a mistake, so he was checking his information very thoroughly before he acted.

“Every time you touch them, they must wonder if that’s it, if you’re going to kill them this time. Do you wonder whether I’m going to kill you now?”

Two more steps, and Spike was immobilizing his prey and tearing into
his neck, safely away from the artery. He pulled a few mouthfuls,
aware of the extreme terror of the struggling man that came from his scent
as well as in his blood. Then he felt her.

He let go of his prey, his eyes of fire plunging into teary ones.

“If you hurt any of them ever again,” he growled very low, “I will hunt
you down and kill you.”

The man nodded convulsively, and as Spike moved back one step he understood it was his time to run. The vampire didn’t pay him any more attention, turning instead to the Slayer behind him.

She was staring at him through eyes that gleamed with unshed tears,
and it hurt to see the sadness in the green depths.

“I can explain, luv,” he volunteered, hoping she would give him a chance.

“There is nothing to explain.”

Her voice was so cold it made him shiver. It sounded void of all
emotions, dead, so unlike the woman full of love and life he adored.
Unsure how to start, he just watched as she picked up a stake from the
ground. For a few seconds, her eyes rested on the piece of wood,
and he wondered what was going on in her mind. She couldn’t seriously be thinking about staking him, right? She would at least give him a minute to tell her why. And she had seen the man go away, bleeding but in no danger of dying, that ought to count. Her gaze came back to his, and she approached him, slowly but purposefully. He realized she was indeed going to do it, and cursed mentally. One more plan completely screwed up. Unconsciously, he took a step back, unwilling to fight her.

“I’m sorry luv,” he said softly.

Not sorry about what he had done, sorry about what he was about to do.

“Stop and listen to me.”

He hadn’t used the Sire voice in years. He had said he wouldn’t use it, wouldn’t force her to do his will. But he couldn’t see what other choice he had right now. He needed to make her understand what exactly she had seen. If she still felt like staking him after…well, he didn’t want to think of that. He just had to be very persuasive, that was all.

She had stopped at his words, just out of arm reach, and was watching
him with outrage.

“First killing and now playing with my mind?” she said angrily.
“This is so not looking good for you.”


* * * * *


Immobile, Buffy glared at Spike. She was trying to move, really trying, but his simple order had stuck her in place. He ran a nervous hand in his hair, his eyes plunging deep into hers, and took a step in her direction.

“That man has a wife and two kids,” he started slowly. “They’re
eleven and five. And he beats them. The police know, social
services do, too, but no one can do anything because he terrorizes his
family so they won’t talk.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to kill him!” Buffy interjected angrily.

He tilted his head, just a little, and she could see in his eyes and
hear in his voice that he was really trying to convince her.

“I wasn’t going to kill him, luv,” he pleaded. “Just give him
a taste of his own medicine. Scare him senseless.”

Buffy shook her head, wishing it was easier to believe him.

“You told him you will kill him if he does it again,” she pointed out.

He nodded a little, and walked another step toward her. He was
within her reach now; she just had to extend her arm to touch him.
And she realized she could do that, his order wasn’t holding her still
any longer. She wondered whether he was aware of it.

“I threatened him,” he admitted. “That doesn’t mean I planned
to get through with it. And even if I did, I wouldn’t have to.
Every day he’s going to look in the mirror, see the scars, and remember. He won’t touch them again.”

“How can you know that?”

He took a deep breath before he answered.

“Because it worked with the others.”

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to contain her anger.
It wasn’t the first time. She was angry with him for doing such a
thing behind her back, and angry with herself for not having noticed.
Her hand was gripping the stake tightly, hard enough to hurt.

“How many? And since when?”

“He was the fifth. In eighteen months.”

She kept silent, making the connection in her mind. A year and
half before, she had taken her first class without him. He seemed
to think her lack of reply was an invitation to continue his explanation.

“I hacked into the social services network two years and half ago.
Red showed me how. Was just checking what they had on file for you
and the Nibblet. Then I looked around and found those files.
Didn’t think much of it at first, but then it started bugging me.
And I thought maybe I could try to do something. So I picked one
and did it. After that, I returned to observe him, and he wasn’t
doing anything bad any more. Even the social services updated the
file and said he was going through therapy. So I know it works.”

He took a last half step toward her. Any closer and he would have
been touching her. He just stayed there, right in front of her, silent
and immobile. She knew he was done with his explanations and was
waiting for her decision. But she didn’t know what to think and decide.

In favor of the defendant, he hadn’t killed, or so he said. He
had done it only in the hope of doing some good. He actually had
done some good.

Against him, he had attacked humans, and had hidden it from her as he
knew she would be upset about it.

Jury still out.

“I wish you had told me,” she said at last.

“Didn’t think you would have let me try, luv. But yes, I should
have told you.”

His voice sounded sincere. But it was still hard.

“Are you going to do it again?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She considered him for a second. His face was unreadable, but
she knew him enough to believe he wouldn’t hunt humans, for any reason,
if she asked him not to. At least, she thought with a frown, she
used to think she knew him.

“I am not comfortable with you hurting humans. Even bad humans. It’s not your role.”

“And what is my role, luv?” he asked in a whisper.

She had no answer to that question. She knew what she was. The Slayer. With a clear purpose in life, hunting vampires and demons. It had been true when she was alive; it was still true now that she was a vamp. But Spike? He was, by nature, a killer, who only chose not to kill. He was helping her slay because he wanted to be with her. She didn’t dare delude herself by thinking he actually enjoyed fighting the good fight. He would have enjoyed just as much fighting for the opposing team. And all this punish and scare the bad guys business, it was just a matter of biting. Just an excuse, a reason more or less legitimate, to sink his fangs into living flesh and get some fresh and hot blood. She understood that way too well for her own comfort.

For the second time that night, she dropped the stake, this time deliberately.

“Let’s go home,” she mumbled.

Part 5

Promise


The silence on the ride back to Revello Drive was deafening. Spike
kept glancing at Buffy, who was leaning against the passenger door.
Leaning away from him. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead but unfocused, and he would have given everything to know what was going through her mind. She hadn’t staked him, but that didn’t mean she understood what he had been trying to do, or accepted it.

The idea came to him to show her the files, the tangible proofs that
some good results had derived from his actions, but he doubted that would
convince her of anything. She hadn’t questioned the truth of his
words, not one second. She was simply upset by what he had been doing. Even with good motives. Even with not killing.

And, some part of him said, he had known she would be. If he hadn’t,
he wouldn’t have been so careful in hiding all of this from her.
He had known it would upset her, but he had done it anyway. That
was just him. Acting in a way that could make him lose everything,
because he thought he had a great idea. Too stubborn to admit it
wasn’t worth the risk.

When they arrived home, she was out of the car and inside the house
before he had even turned off the engine. He followed warily and
joined her in their room. She pulled PJ’s from her drawer and looked
vaguely in his direction, avoiding meeting his eyes.

“The bed in the guestroom is made. Do you want to sleep there
or shall I?”

Had his heart been beating, it would have frozen at her quiet words.

“Buffy…”

He stopped, for once in his unlife unable to find anything to say.

“I’ll go,” he murmured, his throat tight.

Turning away from her, he stepped out of the room and closed the door
behind him, leaning against it. That was the screw up of the century. Make that the millennium.

Cursing softly, he went to the guestroom. After Buffy and he had
moved to the master bedroom, Dawn had taken possession on her sister’s
room, with the argument that it was a little larger and farther away from
them, so that she might get some more sleep. Her room had become
the guests’ home, used most often by Steven, and a couple of times by Giles.

He walked there without even realizing it, shedding his duster and leaving
it on the floor with his boots, and just laid on the bed fully clothed,
staring at the ceiling. He missed their sky. He missed their
bed. He missed his pillow. He missed her. Since he had
moved in with his Slayer and Childe, they hadn’t spent a night away from
each other. Not one. And here he was, alone in an unfamiliar
bed, when she was down the hall, just as alone and upset. Upset because of him.


* * * * *


Morning was close and Buffy still hadn’t found sleep. She wasn’t
used to sleeping alone anymore. She missed his arms around her that
made her feel so warm, even if he was as cold as she was. She had
taken his side of the bed and was pressing her face to his pillow, taking
some comfort in that faint scent that was just him.

They had quarreled, a few times, in the past. Usually about stupid
things, the argument over as soon as it had started, and the making up
part always so sweet. But she had never been that hurt by anything
he had ever said or done. And, judging by the look he had thrown her before leaving the bedroom, she had hurt him just as much by sending him away. Yet, she couldn’t just pretend nothing had happened and open her arms to him, could she? It couldn’t be that easy, or he might think she would forgive anything as quickly. And the next time, it might be more than scare humans.

She almost jumped when the door creaked open. Sitting up in the
bed, she looked at the shadow that was standing just past the threshold. She had left one small candle lit, and it didn’t give enough light for her to distinguish his features.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked in a whisper.

“Come in,” she said with a sigh.

He closed the door behind him and came next to the bed, kneeling by
her side. At last she could see his face, and read the sadness and
tension that he wasn’t even trying to hide as he usually did.

“Do you believe me when I say I was just trying to do something good?”

She reached out tentatively, stroking his cheek with her fingertips.
There was without doubt some remnant of wetness there, just as she had
guessed from his voice.

“I believe you. But don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy taking their blood.”

His hand covered hers hesitantly, pulling it closer to his face.

“Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I drank from someone else?”

Was it, she thought? Of course not! That sounded too much like
being jealous of his victims. She couldn’t be mad because of that,
it was ridiculous.

“No,” she replied after a brief hesitation. “I’m not angry at that.”

“Then why?” he insisted. “You admit I had good intentions and
you’re not mad about my methods, so why?”

Surely, she should have told him she was upset that he had hurt humans,
that it was coming way too close to killing for her to accept it.
But it was another answer that came to her lips.

“You didn’t tell me. You made your decision and did whatever you
wanted without even asking me what I thought about it. “

“You wouldn’t have let…”

“How do you know that?” she interrupted. “Maybe if you had taken
the time to explain beforehand I could have understood. You didn’t
even give me a chance. You lied to me, by omission if not in words. You assumed I was too stupid to figure out…”

“Never. I never thought you were stupid.”

The words were calm and quiet, but she could see golden flakes dancing in his eyes. The contrast was stunning. What was he angry about?

“Will you forgive me for hiding this from you?”

She thought about it for a second, and he shifted her hand on his face
so that he could kiss her palm.

“I will forgive,” she said at last. “But it will take some time.
And I don’t know if I can forget. How will I know next time that you’re
off by yourself that you’re not doing it again?”

Once more, she could see the hurt, plain on his face. She was
sorry for causing it, but he was the one who had hurt her first.

“All I can do is promise. I promise not to hurt any human in any
way. Unless you agree first.”

His voice was solemn as he delivered the words. She knew how important giving his word was to him. He had proven it in the past.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

She leaned toward him for a chaste kiss, and he let out a little sigh.
She moved back to her side of the bed and he took the hint, climbing in
next to her, still fully clothed, and spooning behind her. Maybe
she was just imagining things, but his arm around her waist seemed to hold
her even tighter than it habitually did. She didn’t mind at all,
though, and soon she was finally asleep.

Part 6

Watchers


Holding his Slayer tight, Spike tried vainly to get some sleep.
He had come close, way too close, to losing her. He had almost lost
her trust, which was just about the same as losing her love. And
if he didn’t have her love, he had nothing.

He spent the rest of the night just hugging her, listening to the random
breaths she drew as her body fell back into unnecessary habits. Holding her, focusing his attention on her usually soothed him, but that night
it didn’t.

Any other morning, he would have awakened her with soft kisses and even
softer caresses. But, maybe for the first time ever, he didn’t dare
touch her that intimately, afraid that she would reject him. She
had accepted his promise, had said she trusted him. But was it enough? She had also said she wouldn’t forgive easily.

Some part of him still couldn’t believe he had risked what he had with
her for the sake of people he didn’t even know. But a part just as
big reminded him of the daughter of his first prey, a cute little girl,
with big green eyes and two blonde pigtails. So very much like that
picture of a younger Buffy in the living room.

He felt her shift against him, her muscles tensing imperceptibly, and
he knew she was awake. She didn’t say a word or move though, and
he pretended not to have noticed, waiting for her to make the first step. Waiting to see if she would pull away or snuggle closer. Before he could get his answer, the phone rang, making her jerk in his arms. She had insisted on having a phone in the bedroom, saying it was more convenient than running downstairs. In his mind, it was just more difficult to ignore when they didn’t feel like answering.

Muttering softly, she broke free of his embrace to reach for the damn
thing on the bedside table. When she had it, however, she returned
to her place, her back right against him. He let out a contented
sigh as he nuzzled her hair, his arm finding its way back to her waist.

“Hello?” she said sleepily in the phone.

Her body stiffened suddenly and she escaped his embrace again, sitting
up in the bed and turning wide eyes toward him. When she spoke again, her voice was fully alert, and icily cold.

“What do you want, Mr. Travers?”

It was Spike’s turn to sit up in surprise. The Council.
He had dreaded this call for the last three years, often coming close to
regretting the loss of the chip because of their price. She had agreed
to the Council of Wankers’ terms. For him, his Slayer had agreed
to owe a favor to a bunch of lunatics. Whatever favor they saw fit
to ask from her. It was much too vague for his peace of mind.
But, apparently, the suspense was about to come to an end, if the bloody
head watcher was calling to collect.

He watched her as she listened, her face becoming more somber each second, until she was scowling.

“That’s it?” she practically spat. “You just want me to find her
and convince her to work for you?”

Puzzled, Spike wondered who the hell she was talking about. She listened
for a little while, now frowning.

“No. Not a team. We don’t need a hundred of your friends
to survive an apocalypse. We just need one. ”

To Spike, the conversation made less and less sense. An apocalypse? Again?

“I don’t care that he doesn’t work for you anymore. You’ll just
have to be very convincing. I’m sure if you’re generous he’ll be
quite agreeable. And if he doesn’t agree, don’t bother sending anyone.”

Now that, he could understand. She was talking about her Watcher. Technically, Giles wasn’t her Watcher any longer, not even a Watcher at all, but Spike wouldn’t be the one to tell that to an obviously pissed off Slayer.

After a few more words, Buffy hung up the phone, a deep frown creasing
her forehead. Spike pulled her into his arms, running a light hand
into her hair.

“So, luv, sounds like we have another end of the world to take care of?”

She chuckled a little, but her laugh sounded forced.

“That’s the easy part, Big Bad. Before that comes the real challenge.”

“Which is?”

She raised her face to see his.

“We have to find Faith.”

If she hadn’t sounded and looked so serious, he would have laughed.
Instead, he just repeated doubtfully:

“Find faith? What do you mean? Pray?”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Not that kind of faith. Faith. As in, Faith the Vampire Slayer.”

She must have guessed at the face he made that she had lost him, so
she explained further, a slight tinge of irritation growing in her voice.

“Remember when Drusilla killed a Slayer? Another Slayer was called
after that. Faith. To make a long and boring story short and
still boring, Faith had more fun helping demons than hunting them.
She ended up in jail. She was released yesterday. And for a
reason I don’t even want to understand, the Council wants to give her another
chance. ”

He had noticed the cold anger when she said Dru’s name, and tried not
to react to it. Drusilla was a touchy subject for both of them, though
for different reasons. But, surprisingly enough, she injected the
same anger in that other Slayer’s name.

She rose from the bed and he watched her as she gathered some clothes.

“So, that’s what they are asking?” he asked in disbelief. “They
just want us to find the bint and tell her that she can be part of the
good guys again?”

Buffy snorted in a very unladylike fashion and threw him an almost amused
glance. Almost, but not quite.

“If you knew her, you’d know it won’t be as simple as it sounds.
But, yeah, that’s basically it. Supposedly, there’s a new apocalypse
on the way and, supposedly again, we’ll need her help to avoid it.
I hope they manage to convince Giles to come. I’ll call him later.”

With these last words, muttered more for her than for him, she walked
into the bathroom. Spike was about to get up and join her, when,
uncharacteristically, she closed the door. He let himself fall back
on the bed and pressed his palms against his eyes. For a few blessed
minutes, he had forgotten that he was in trouble. Obviously, she
remembered.


* * * * *


As she let the water cascade over her body, Buffy couldn’t help replaying
Quentin Travers’ words in her mind. The apocalypse part, she wasn’t
really concerned about. As weird as the thought might be, it was
just business as usual on the Hellmouth. Faith, on the other hand,
was another matter.

“What the Council asks from you, Miss Summers, is to do everything
in your power so that we have a Slayer, alive and cooperative, working
for us again. Your part of the bargain will only be fulfilled once we have
a Slayer. And may I remind you that failure is not an option?”

Angel said she had changed while she was in jail. But then, he
had had a soft spot for the rogue Slayer for quite a while, hadn’t he?
Not that Buffy cared about that anymore. The time was long past for
misplaced jealousy. But she couldn’t forgive or forget so easily
all that Faith had done. Allying with the mayor. Poisoning
Angel. Trying to kill her. Stealing her body. Though
that last episode had been quite revealing. When they had fought
in the church, Buffy had understood at last that Faith hated what she had
become. So, maybe, there was some hope in bringing her to work for
the Council again. Be part of the good guys, as Spike had put it.

Spike… Her thoughts drifted toward him. She had expected him to
join her, but she had been under the spray for at least twenty minutes
and he still hadn’t come. She wasn’t sure what to tell him about
the events of the previous day, but she knew she had to say something. They couldn’t just leave the matter like that, however tempting it was to just forget the problem. Faith really couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to get her parole.

She heard a knock on the hall door, and Dawn’s grumpy voice reminded
her that other people had a use for the bathroom. With an apology,
she stepped out of the shower and left the bathroom to her sister, returning
directly to her bedroom. She realized then that she had closed the
door behind her. That explained why Spike hadn’t joined her.
He must have thought she was still angry. Which she was, truthfully,
but not that much.

She dressed quickly in the empty bedroom before going downstairs for
her breakfast. Spike gave her a half-hearted smile when she entered
the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, a mug in his hands. He gestured to a second one on the kitchen island.

“’Thought you’d be hungry.”

“I am, thanks.”

Slowly sipping the warm blood, she observed him. He wasn’t drinking,
just staring at the contents of his mug, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“So, where’s the bird?” he said after a while, his eyes finally coming
up to meet hers.

“Faith? She was in jail in LA. She’s on parole so she should
still be there.”

He nodded a little.

“When do we leave?”

Straight to business, that was Spike. And no question about whether
she wanted him to come along or not. She doubted he would have let
her go alone, had she even wanted to. Her agreement with the Council
only mentioned her cooperation, but she knew Spike would as soon stake
himself as let her deal with them by herself. And not only for the
reason that she was in their debt because of his chip.

“Tonight,” she replied at last. “A few more hours won’t change
anything, so there’s no reason to risk getting a sunburn.”

He nodded again and drained the rest of his blood in one long swallow. Taking her empty cup, he busied himself with washing them. She watched his turned back for a moment, before picking up the phone and dialing Giles number. They made a point of calling each other at least once a month, just to keep in touch, and she had finally memorized the dozen or so digits needed to reach him.

“Good afternoon, Giles! Or is it evening already?”

She could almost hear the smile of her Watcher as he answered.

“Afternoon, you got it right, Buffy. I was expecting your call.”

“You heard from the Council then?”

“I did.”

“And?”

He gave a little chuckle. “What do you think?”

She felt a grin come to her lips. Of course, she had been sure
he would come, but it was nice to actually know.

“Let me guess. You told them to sod off, then you played hard
to get, and finally you accepted at the condition that they double your
salary and pay it retroactively?”

This time, it was a true laugh that came from the other side of the world.

“Something like that, yes. Let’s just say that Dawn’s college
fund just received a very generous donation. ”

Buffy felt her throat tighten at the words. That certainly hadn’t
been what she had in mind when she requested him and no one else.

“Giles, you don’t need…”

“I know, but I want to,” he interrupted her. “I have to get a
couple of books from the Council, so I won’t be able to leave immediately. I should be in Sunnydale the day after tomorrow. ”

“You’ll have to call Xander for a ride. We’ll probably still be
in LA by then. They told you about the Faith part?”

Deep sigh and short pause. Ah, the infamous Cleaning of the Glasses.

“Yes, they told me. It doesn’t make much sense to me, I have to
admit. They know the two of you have certain… problems, so I don’t
understand why they expect you to be able to convince her. ”

“I was wondering about the same thing,” Buffy confessed.

“Do take care of yourself, Buffy. I don’t need to tell you she
can be full of surprises. ”

“I’ll be fine, Giles. I have the bleached wonder with me if things
turn sour. See you in a few days.”

“Yes dear. Good-bye. ”

As she hung up the phone, strong arms encircled her as an equally strong
body pressed against her back.

“The bleached wonder?” he growled softly into her ear, sending shivers
down to her toes. “How about a little respect for your Sire?”

As the last word escaped his lips, she involuntarily stiffened in his
embrace. It reminded her suddenly how he had controlled her with
just a couple of words the day before. She was certainly glad he
had had a chance to explain himself before she turned him to ashes, but
that didn’t mean she had liked the method. He seemed to feel her
sudden stress, because he immediately let go of her.

“Buffy… Tell me, what can I do to fix it?”

In his pleading voice, sadness was easy to recognize. She turned
toward him, and read the same thing in pale blue eyes. She wished
she knew what to tell him, wished she knew how to bring things back as
they were just twenty-four hours before, but she didn’t. So she answered by placing her arms around his neck and giving him a tender kiss. His expression softened a little, the barest smile tugging at his lips as he hugged her.

Part 7

Comfort


Spike managed to avoid the foot that was flying at him by ducking at
the last second, but before he could regain his footing a vicious fist
was catching him in the jaw, sending him staggering a few feet back.
Shaking his head, he came back to his opponent, giving a series of punches
that were all easily avoided. The counter attack was swift, one leg
sweeping both of his. Before he knew it he was on his back, and that damn
stake was plunging towards his chest, for the third time in a half hour.
And for the third time in a half hour, it stopped just one inch above his flesh.

Buffy frowned at him from her seat on his stomach, and threw the stake
across the training room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Unconsciously, he placed his hands on her hips in a familiar motion,
before realizing what he was doing. As if burnt, he pulled his hands
away, resting them instead at his sides. She noticed the gesture, and her frown only deepened.

“You’re an awful liar,” she said as she grabbed his hands and led them
back to her hips.

“Am not,” he protested weakly.

She was still sitting astride him and giving no hint that she was about
to move. Not that he wanted her to go anywhere.

“Spike, I kicked your butt three times in thirty minutes. That’s not
sparring, that’s a beating. You’re barely even trying.”

Golden flakes appeared in her hazel eyes, proof, if he needed it, that
she was angry. Her voice had been enough to make that clear, however calm she had tried to sound.

“’Just not my best day, I guess,” he said cautiously.

“Liar. You do it on purpose. Why?”

Having no answer to give her that she would find acceptable, he tried
to distract her. His thumbs slid under her tank top and caressed
her skin lightly.

“Feeling up for some other activities, luv?”

He gave her his patented smirk, as well as a nicely suggestive eyebrow
waggling, but his efforts fell flat and she only scowled at him.

“Do you believe things will get better if you let me beat you up?”

The smirk melted instantly into a hesitant smile.

“It worked before,” he said in a whisper.

Anger disappeared from her eyes, replaced by shock and pain. He
cursed mentally. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to admit
to anything. The time was long gone when she was alternating beating
him and shagging him. But he had thought that, maybe, if he gave
her the opportunity to let her anger out physically, it would be easier
to get back into her good graces.

He never saw the hand that slapped him. Right after the sting
though, her mouth was on his, pressing and demanding, kissing him thoroughly until they were both panting needlessly. Now half lying on top of him, she held his head between both her hands, her face hovering just above his. His eyes widened when he noticed the tears in hers.

“Never play that game again,” she said in a shaking voice.

His right hand came up to brush the tear that was rolling down her nose.

“Never again,” he breathed.

“Hurting you doesn’t help anything. Do you understand that?”

“Yes luv.”

Her lips returned to his, more softly this time, and her tongue slid
into his mouth again, caressing and probing where it had been battling
before. His fingers tangled in the silk of her hair, just like hers
were doing.

When they separated again, she rested her head on his chest for a minute. Then she sat up again and looked at him almost hesitantly.

“Can I…” she started, her whisper quickly cut short.

He didn’t need her to finish the sentence, though, knowing very well
what she wanted since he craved the same thing. And he also knew
that didn’t mean all was forgotten. The demons inside both of them
didn’t care about anything but the thirst.

Sliding her a little until she was resting on his thighs, he drew himself
up and encircled her waist with his arms. He answered her unasked
question by tilting his head, offering his neck to her. Her lips
brushed against his mouth, light as a butterfly wing, before trailing along
his jaw and down to the crook of his neck. He felt her shift as she
nuzzled him, felt her fangs press against his skin, but she did not bite. Instead, she just waited, giving him his cue that she wanted him to bite her too. He slid thoughtlessly into his demon face, and gave a quick lick to his very first mark, the one that had changed her existence, the
only permanent scar he could give her. Then he imitated her actions,
pressing his fangs to her skin just enough to stretch it without piercing.
There was no signal of any sort, but at the same instant they sank into
each other, fangs quickly retracting to give way to blood twice reassuring.


* * * * *


For long minutes, they remained in each other’s arms, neither drawing
blood anymore, just holding on to the deep feeling of contentment they
both felt. They hadn’t shared blood this way in a long time, for
biting had become an almost exclusive part of their sex games. But
it reminded Buffy of the first time they had drunk from each other together,
the night after he had turned her. It had been a matter of comfort
then, as she was scared, confused and upset at having been made a vampire. It was another kind of comfort they had just shared, for this time both of them were troubled and needed soothing.

With a sigh, Buffy finally extracted herself from Spike’s arms and got
to her feet, offering her hand to pull him up.

“I need to go plan things with Anya for the online orders. Then
we can go home, grab what we’ll need for a few days out of town, and be
on our way.”

He nodded, gently tucking a stray strand of her behind her ear.

“Are we staying at the Hyperion?” he asked.

“I guess.”

“Want me to call Peaches?”

She thought about that for a second, before shaking her head.

“Better not. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in touch with Faith,
and if he tells her I’m coming to LA she might hide or even run.”

A quick light of surprise ran through his eyes, gone as soon as it had
appeared, but he did not comment.

“Fine, then. I’ll go out for a smoke and join you in a few minutes, OK?”

Her eyes followed him as he walked out into the back alley. The
battle had been long, but he had finally made it a habit to not smoke inside,
be it inside their home, the Magic Box, or even his car. Now, if
she could just get him to abandon the habit completely…

Absently thinking of what incentives she could find to convince him to quit, period, she joined Anya and Xander in the shop. Xander came to the Magic Box every day after work, and stayed with his wife until closing time.

Buffy told them about needing to leave for LA, though she didn’t explain
why exactly. She felt oddly reluctant to tell them about Faith, maybe
because she had no idea what would happen when she found her. They made arrangements for Anya to take care of the online orders until their
return. She also told them about Giles coming to town, though again
she was vague about the reasons. They would find out soon enough
that trouble was on its way, and in the meantime they wouldn’t worry needlessly.

After all the details were planed, she noticed the insistent look that
Anya gave her husband. Immediately, he excused himself, stopping
by the office for a second before sneaking out to the training room.
Puzzled, Buffy watched him leave with a bottle of beer in each hand.
He and Spike were not at each other’s throats anymore, and the insults
they still traded were more playful than hurtful. But it still was
weird to see Xander comfortable around Spike, let alone see him deliberately
seek the vampire out, carrying the universal beverage of male bonding.

“What’s wrong with you and Spike?”

Buffy almost jumped at the sudden question and turned wide eyes to Anya. It had been a long time since the ex-demon had been asking personal questions so bluntly.

“Why do you think there’s something wrong?” she asked uneasily.

Anya rolled her eyes as if the answer was evident.

“Anyone who knows the two of you can see it. I think today was
the first time in three years I saw you two come in the shop without holding
hands. And you can’t be a vengeance demon as long as I was without
picking vibes about relationships. So, do you want to talk about it?”

Pondering the offer, Buffy bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. Anya
left her for a moment to help a customer and ring a sale, but soon she
was back by Buffy’s side at the research table.

“He bit someone,” the Slayer said, her voice slow and quiet. “He
didn’t kill, but he hurt a human. More than one. He explained
why he did it, and I understand he had good intentions, but…”

She raised her eyes to Anya, noticing the barest frown before it was
wiped out.

“He said he wouldn’t do it again,” she continued. “And I believe
him. But I don’t know if I can forgive him for lying to me.”

Anya tilted her head slightly, and her eyes flickered to Buffy’s neck,
where she knew the fresh marks were visible. She expected a comment, or the remark that, if she let him bit her, she wasn’t that upset with
him. Instead, Anya said:

“If being married has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is always
completely perfect. There’s always something that is not exactly
like you planned, or your husband acts in a way that you don’t like.
But if you keep grudges for all the mistakes, it will never work.
You’ll end up hating him if you don’t forgive. And you love him too
much to let that happen.”

Buffy thought about the words for a little moment, grateful that Anya
was giving her time. At last, a small smile found its way to her
lips, and she pressed Anya’s hand lightly on the table.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ve been telling myself that I shouldn’t
forgive too easily, but we’ve both been hurting too much because of it.
I suppose your theory works for any couple, not just married ones.”

“Oh, but when a vampire claims a mate, it’s just about the same as a
human wedding,” she said casually. “So you two are as good as married. Therefore my advice applies.”

Just then, new customers entered the store, and Anya left Buffy to greet
them before the Slayer could ask for an explanation.

What did she mean, ‘when a vampire claims a mate’?

Part 8

Forget


In the alley behind the shop, Spike was pacing restlessly. A few
memories, this place brought back. Bittersweet memories. Buffy
telling him about Heaven. Buffy showing him a glimpse of Heaven with
a kiss. Both times, he had been delighted and surprised that she
had come to him. Both times, the following days had been hard. What do you tell someone who admits to you they have been in Heaven and hints that they wished they still were? What do you tell someone who, after kissing you like the world is going to end, denies it meant anything?

More bittersweet memories had just been created a few minutes before. Sharing blood with his Childe was always a wondrous thing, but with that strain between them, it just wasn’t the same. If the Witches had been around, he just might have considered begging for a memory spell. Which, of course, would only have been one more huge mistake, he realized, but it was a measure of how desperate he was becoming that he had even thought of it.

Spike was finishing his cigarette when Xander joined him. He raised
a questioning eyebrow at the offered bottle, but accepted it and took a
swig without comment. He wasn’t sure the human and he could be called friends, but Xander was certainly the closest thing he had to one.

“Some day I’ll have to introduce you to what a real beer is,” Spike
said as he threw a quick glance at the other man.

That was a habitual subject of discussion between them; Spike complaining
about American beer, Xander pointing out that it didn’t prevent him from
drinking the stuff. The brunette had taken a seat on a bunch of crates
and was nursing his bottle slowly, observing from the corner of his eye
the still pacing vampire.

“My dearest wife says there’s something rotten in the kingdom of Buffy
and Spike-land.”

Spike stopped walking to glare at him.

“That’s none of your business,” he growled.

“So she’s right.”

“Which part of ‘none of your business’ didn’t you get, Harris?”

Spike didn’t need a mirror to know his eyes were flashing gold, but
Xander seemed unimpressed. Of course, he had witnessed displays of
anger much worse from Spike, but had never been on the receiving end of
a hit since the removal of the chip.

“’Thought you’d want to talk about it,” he said with a shrug.

“No I don’t,” Spike muttered as he finished his beer. “Not that
there’s anything to talk about.”

The empty bottle suddenly shattered against a wall, and Xander jumped
in surprise, but did not say a word. Unnerved, Spike lit another
cigarette and started dragging on it angrily.

“I did something stupid,” he said without looking at the brunette.
“And I almost lost her. Not sure I still have her completely.
Don’t know what to do to mend things, and she won’t tell me. I have
no bleeding clue what she expects from me!”

“She’s probably as clueless as you are,” Xander offered softly.
“Your first big fight, uh?”

Spike nodded. “The first since we are officially together.
We used to fight all the time before that, but it never meant anything.
But this time she was ready to stake me!”

Xander kept silent at that, and Spike glanced at him, finding brown
eyes that were apparently trying to weigh him.

“You killed someone?” he asked very low. “That’s just about the
only reason why she would dust you.”

“No. I did not kill anyone. But she thought I did.”

The brunette didn’t press the matter, but Spike could see he wanted
an explanation. The vampire sighed. He had said too much already, he might as well go on with it.

“She saw me biting someone. Someone who deserved to be hurt and
to get scared within an inch of his life. I explained why, I promised
I wouldn’t do it again, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.”

Dejectedly throwing the cigarette butt to the ground, Spike stepped
on it and resumed his pacing.

“I explained, I apologized, I promised. What else can I do?”

“You just try. And try your best. And keep trying until
it’s enough.”

He gave a blank stare to Xander, who returned it flatly.

“At least, that’s what a wise man told me when I got married.
It worked for me so far.”

The faintest smirk appeared on Spike’s lips.

“A wise man, uh?”

“Now that you mention it, I’m not sure about the wise part. And
the man part was always questionable.”

Spike chuckled as he flashed his game face at Xander.

“I should kill you for that, Whelp.”

“Sure, Fangboy, but I’m pretty certain your Slayer would get kind of
pissed about it.”

“Such a pity.”

They shared a grin, and Xander jumped to his feet.

“Come on. If you’re lucky, my lady will have talked yours into
being nice to you again.”

As he approached Spike, he noticed the fresh bite marks for the first
time and made a face.

“Of course if she bites you when she’s mad, I don’t even want to know
what happens when she’s nice.”

He shook his head as he walked back to the training room, and Spike
followed, unable to suppress a hopeful smile. Maybe, just maybe,
having human friends might be useful sometimes.


* * * * *


It always amazed Buffy that Spike could drive a car while only seeing
the road through a tiny patch of clear glass and never have had an accident. At least, he said he never had one, and she couldn’t help but wonder about that. Yet she was used to it by now, and was not afraid any longer, even if she still thought he was driving too fast.

They had been on the road for an hour, and were roughly half way between
Sunnydale and Los Angeles when she made up her mind. Her little talk
with Anya had made her realize that, even if they had eternity in front
of them, every minute that she refused to give her forgiveness, every minute
when he didn’t reach to her because he thought she would pull away, was
lost forever.

“Spike?”

“Slayer?”

He briefly turned to her and gave her a warm smile. She suspected
that she wasn’t the only one who had had a little chat with a member of
the Harris family, for he had been a little less subdued since returning
to the shop along with Xander.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Again, he turned to her, the smile on his lips a hundred times brighter
than before.

“I know. And I love you too.”

He reached out for her hand and brought it to his lips. When he
was done, it was her turn to pull his fingers to hers for a kiss.

“You are forgiven,” she whispered. “And I want to forget all about
it. Ok for you?”

She heard a sharp intake of breath, and he took a few seconds before
answering.

“Fine for me, luv. But before we forget, I just want to say I’m
really sorry for hurting you. Never wanted that.”

“I know.”

She leaned toward him, resting her head against his shoulder, sighing
happily when his right arm found its place around her waist. Peaceful
at last, she closed her eyes and was lulled into sleep by the gentle purring
coming from Spike’s chest. Her last thought was that nothing was
worth losing this.

Part 9

Slayers


Buffy was awakened by a soft and deep kiss. She couldn’t help making a small noise of protest when Spike’s lips left hers after a few seconds.

“We’re there, luv,” he said simply.

They got out of the car and as he grabbed their bags she stretched,
shaking the rest of sleep away. They walked to the front door of
the Hyperion together, and Spike opened it for her with a bow. She
smiled at the attention, before protesting loudly when he gave a little
slap to her bottom as she walked by him. Giggling, they entered the
hotel lobby, and Buffy called out:

“Hello? Anyone home? Angel? Steven?”

No answer came. Spike dropped the bags on the floor and walked
toward Angel’s office. He came back shaking his head, but before
he could say anything Angel was coming down the steps. He looked
surprised at seeing them, as well as somber, even more than usually.

“Buffy. Spike. To what do I owe the surprise?”

“Hey, Angel. Can you put us up for a few days? We have some
business to take care of here in LA.”

As she talked, Spike came back to Buffy’s side and casually wrapped
an arm around her shoulders. Buffy had the sudden urge to roll her
eyes at him, knowing very well he was doing that mostly to remind Angel
that she was his now. As if the older vampire could forget.

The brunette, however, didn’t even twitch at the display.

“I guess that’s OK. Just give me a moment to… get a room ready.”

There had been a slight hesitation in his voice, and Buffy wondered
what he had been about to say.

“Oh, by the way,” she commented as if it was only an afterthought, “did
you know Faith has been released?”

Angel seemed startled as his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened for
a second. He had soon wiped the surprise from his face.

“I have heard,” he said slowly. “Is that why you’re in LA?”

Buffy tried to repress a satisfied smile. He had heard meant that he was in contact with Faith. Finding her might not be too difficult after all.

“The Council has an offer for her and I am their messenger. Do
you know how I can contact her?”

For a little while, Angel just stared at her and Spike, his gaze going
from one to the other before finally resting on Buffy. At last, he
shook his head.

“I doubt she wants to have anything to do with you or the Council,”
he said coldly. “I know you don’t believe it, but she has changed,
and she doesn’t need anyone or anything reminding her of the past.
Don’t expect any help from me.”

As she watched him, Buffy couldn’t help but think that there was something
he wasn’t saying. Spike seemed to notice her frown and said lightly:

“Don’t worry, luv, we’ll find the bint even without Peaches. Just
need to go look for her.”

At that moment, Buffy became aware of the girl walking down the staircase. Nothing to worry about, indeed. The search had been quick. She took just one step in her direction, freeing herself from Spike’s arm so that she could fight if needed. Then she forced herself to do the most difficult things of all. She smiled at Faith.


* * * * *


“We won’t need to look too far, it seems.”

Spike glanced at Buffy, noticing she was as tense as her voice had led
him to suppose. Her arms were crossed below her breast, almost nonchalantly, but he knew that look. She was ready to fight, and expected an attack. Her eyes were on the brunette who was crossing the lobby towards them.

So, this was Faith? Spike studied the girl curiously; intrigued by the vibes he was getting from her. A Slayer, no doubt about that, but she was different from Buffy. He knew he had never met her, but at the same time, he could have sworn he had felt her presence before. The two Slayers just stared at each other, a few steps separating them, both visibly expecting a fight, but neither making the first move.

Angel stepped between the two of them, giving each a chastising glance
as he said:

“Unless you want me to kick both your asses, I suggest you drop the
tough girl act. No fighting here. Or anywhere else, for that
matter. You’re adults, so behave like it. ”

If Buffy’s eyes had been stakes, there would have been a pile of ashes
in front of her instead of Angel. The other Slayer’s reaction was
to roll her eyes at the brunette, and shift her attention to Spike.
He returned her gaze without wavering, wondering when he could have met
her and why he didn’t remember her pretty face.

“Hey, lookie who we have here,” she said as her eyes roamed over him
quite obviously. “William the Bloody. Still harmless, or did
you get your fangs back, blondie?”

His eyes narrowed as he frowned in surprise, wondering how she knew.
Still, it wasn’t like it had been a state secret or anything. For
all he knew, the poof had told her.

“Step closer and we can test on you, ducks,” he replied with a snarl.

Two similarly irritated vampires turned murderous glares at him, both
letting out an annoyed “Spike!” Buffy’s exasperation wasn’t lost
on Faith, who gave her fellow Slayer a quick glance before looking back
at Spike, grinning even more.

“So, I take it she has tried those Slayer muscles on you. Do you
beg her to hurt you, blondie?”

At her words, Spike took a step back, feeling like he had just been
slapped. He realized he was gaping at her and closed his mouth, trying to understand how she could know. Of course, he had been so captivated by the Slayer that night that someone could have stepped on his toes without him noticing.

“How do you…” he started, but was interrupted by Buffy, who was glaring
at him even more dangerously. She was jealous, no doubt about that,
though there was, in truth, nothing to be jealous about.

“You two know each other? Since when?”

“First time I’ve seen the bint, Slayer,” he replied quickly.

“Oh, William,” Faith said too sweetly, bringing a hand to her heart
in mock outrage. “How could you forget? I am hurt, really.”

Trying to ignore the brunette’s act, Spike pleaded with his eyes for
Buffy to believe him. Before he could find anything to say, however,
Faith was adding, amusement plain in her voice:

“Of course I looked a bit different at the time. A bit blonder.
Much bitchier, too. ”

Spike was lost by now. But, judging by Buffy’s widening eyes,
she understood exactly what Faith was talking about.

“You did him, too?” she spat angrily at the brunette. “Riley wasn’t
enough, you had to throw yourself at the first willing vamp, too?
You little…”

She looked ready to jump on the still smirking girl, and Spike felt
he had to intervene and try to get a sense of what was going on.

“Hey there, pet,” he said softly, “calm down. I told you I’ve
never met the girl. She’s just…”

“She was in my body,” Buffy said heatedly. “You wouldn’t have
known the difference. Riley didn’t.”

And then it all clicked into place. Faith’s words, Buffy’s explanation,
the vibes he knew without knowing, that surreal talk Buffy - no, Faith
- had given him at the Bronze a few years back. He had never forgotten it, always wondering what had possessed her to act as she had that night. Now he knew. Faith had possessed her. He stood in front of his blonde Slayer and forced her to look at his face.

“Buffy, all she did was talk. Nothing but talk and tease.
Nothing else.“

Hazel eyes bore into his, searching for the truth.

“One of my few regrets,” Faith said idly behind him, though her tone
was clearly amused. “If I had done more than talk I might have had
some nice memories to …”

“Faith, that’s enough!”

Surprisingly enough, Angel’s low growl quieted her instantly.
Spike threw her a quick glance, finding that she was blushing brightly.

Part 10

Adults


A few minutes later, three vampires and a live Slayer were sitting around
a table in the hotel’s kitchen. Angel had played the perfect host,
and offered beverages to his guests. Warm blood for his Childe, coffee
for both Slayers. He suspected that Buffy didn’t want Faith to know
that she was now a vampire, and he was wondering whether the brunette would be able to ‘feel’ the change or not with her Slayer’s instincts.

Faith had given up her teasing, and even apologized for it - to him,
though, not to Buffy. Spike’s eyes were not leaving the blonde Slayer
and he was completely ignoring Faith. Unless Angel missed his guess
completely, his Childe was simply avoiding giving Buffy the barest hint
of a reason to be jealous, which was certainly a good idea. Buffy’s
was studying Faith, gauging her. She had calmed down since the first
exchange in the lobby, but she was still very tense.

For a long moment, there was only a very uncomfortable silence.
Then Buffy spoke, coldly and emotionlessly.

“I am not here to fight, and as long as you don’t provoke me I won’t
kick your sorry ass.”

Faith chuckled lightly as she raised her coffee cup in a mock toast.

“So generous of you, B. So why are you here? Come to celebrate my parole?”

Like Spike, Angel kept silent. He was there to make sure they
wouldn’t jump at each other’s throats, but as he had said before, they
were adults. It was time they settled old grudges once and for all.

“I’m here because the Council wants you back. They agree that
you’ve paid for your mistakes and they want…”

Faith’s laugh cut off Buffy in the middle of her explanation.
The blonde shot a murderous glance at the brunette, but said nothing.
Faith’s laugh ceased as abruptly as it had started.

“They don’t want me back,” she said harshly. “They want me dead. Is that why they sent you? They thought it would take Super B, the wonderful and almighty Slayer, to take down the bad girl?”

Buffy shook her head, frowning slightly, her hands gripping her cup
so hard it was a wonder that she hadn’t broken it yet.

“As I said, I’m not here to fight. I am just a messenger.”

Faith snorted. “Here’s a message for the Council, then.
I know they want me dead. I know about the girls they paid to kill
me in jail. And their attempt the day I was released was just pitiful. Tell them that from me, B. I’m not playing that game any more. I’m done with slaying and demons. But if they come after me, I still know how to defend myself.”

She rose to her feet, and before striding away, cast a challenging glance
at Buffy.

“I don’t want to fight you. So don’t force me to.”

With that, she left the kitchen, and Angel watched her climb the steps.
Off to her room, then. He glanced at Buffy, finding her frowning
and looking puzzled.

“Did you know they tried to have her killed?” she asked Angel blankly.

He shook his head. “News to me. But then, she’s been avoiding
talking about the past. Anything Slayer-related is off limits.”

There was some noise in the lobby and, seconds later, Steven was entering
the kitchen. His face brightened with a huge grin as he saw Buffy and Spike,
and Angel couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Things had
certainly improved a lot since his son had come back to him, but he still
couldn’t understand why the boy had given freely to Spike the trust that
Angel had had to earn so painstakingly.

“Hey, kid,” Spike said with a smile as bright as Steven’s. “And
before you ask; no, she’s not here.”

Steven laughed a little, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Hi, guys.
Up for a round?” he asked, hope filling his voice.

Spike’s eyes questioned Buffy, who seemed to suddenly come out of her
thoughts and notice Steven for the first time. She gave him a little
wave, before nodding to Spike.

“You two go ahead,” she said absently. “I’ll come watch you later. And I’ll take the winner.”

Angel caught Spike’s gaze as he walked by him, giving him a silent warning. Spike rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he strolled after the boy. As quickly as that, his son and his Childe were gone, and Angel was left to contemplate that Steven had barely even acknowledged his presence. What in hell would it take? They had shared a lot of good times in the last few years, but even after all that it seemed that it still wasn’t enough for Steven. Blaming a dead man was easy, but cursing Holtz wasn’t very satisfying.

Buffy rising from her chair pulled him out of his thoughts.
I was not brooding, he assured himself.

“I need to talk to her,” she said slowly. “Alone. Can you show
me where her room is?”

He pondered that for an instant, not quite sure that leaving the two
Slayers by themselves was the best thing to do. But, if he expected
them to behave as adults, he might as well treat them as such.


* * * * *


“Come in.”

Buffy pushed the door open and closed it carefully behind her.
She didn’t step further into the room, but simply leaned against the door. Faith was sitting on the narrow bed, watching a TV on the opposite wall. She used the remote to turn down the sound and levelly returned Buffy’s stare.

“So, B…you gonna try and kill me?”

“No. You?”

“Not in my plans.”

Buffy relaxed a little and let her back slide down the door until she
was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her hands on her knees. Her
eyes never left Faith’s.

“And what are your plans?”

The brunette shrugged. “Nothing fancy. A job, a place to
live, friends, a cute guy. Normal stuff.”

Despite herself, Buffy found herself nodding. The “normal things”
she had been wanting, too…for a long time. Before realizing that
they were things a Slayer never easily got. Weirdly enough, she had all
of them, now that she was dead. Or undead, as Spike liked to say. Yet,
if that was what Faith truly wanted, she was not making a good start.

“You won’t get a normal life living with a vampire,” Buffy pointed out.

The barest smile flirted with Faith’s lips. “Jealous? Blondie is not
enough for you and you want two for the price of one?”

Buffy shook her head, feeling herself getting annoyed at the other girl’s
insinuations.

“You can do whatever you want with Angel, he doesn’t need me to take care of his business. And Spike is quite enough for me, thank you very much.”

Faith watched her for a little while, before saying at last:

“I’m only here until I get my own place. Nothing more. Even if Angel
was interested, I can’t fall into that trap again. I want a cute guy, but
I need him human.”

Buffy was pondering these words, trying to decide whether Faith was
sincere or simply playing an act, when the brunette added, suddenly very
serious:

“Talking about cute guys, I did hit on blondie, hard, but that’s all.
So don’t get too bad with him.”

Annoyance threatened to turn into plain anger again as Buffy was reminded
of how and when Spike and Faith had met before. She couldn’t help frowning,
but managed to bite back the nasty comment she had on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she asked:

“Why are you so sure the Council wants you dead?”

“When I was released, there was a van waiting for me,” Faith answered
calmly. “Little fight, nothing difficult, except that they had guns
and were ready to use them. I was lucky. Very lucky.
And before that, in jail, a few girls tried to off me. I’m sure at
least two of them worked for the Tweed Brigade.”

Buffy found herself surprised at how composed Faith was as she was explaining all that.

“They didn’t ask me to kill you,” Buffy said, not understanding how all of this could fit together. “They told me that you were free and that they wanted a Slayer to work with. That was all. No death talk.”

Faith tilted her head, the barest frown on her forehead.

“They have you, they don’t need me.”

“Nope, I don’t work for them. This is a one time deal.”

They both kept silent for a little while. Buffy was thinking back of the time when, in Faith’s body, she had been in the Council’s grip. They certainly had seemed ready to dispose of her - of Faith - then. So maybe she wasn’t paranoid after all. In her mind, she replayed the conversation she had had with Travers. And suddenly, she understood.

“They said they wanted a Slayer. They never said they wanted
you.”

Faith’s eyes widened a little as she understood too.

“So they send you, knowing that you and I have a few… unresolved problems,
and they hope you’re gonna kill me…”

“So another Slayer will be called and they can try to control her,”
Buffy finished.

Cursing under her nonexistent breath, Buffy banged her head against
the door.

“How could I be so stupid!” she said softly.

“Well, you’re a blonde after all,” Faith said with a grin.

Buffy’s deadly stare softened when she realized Faith was just teasing her.

“So, now that you know what they want,” the brunette said in a too light
tone, “you changed your mind about killing me?”

“I don’t kill humans,” Buffy said flatly.

Instantly, Faith’s face closed, all lightness gone, replaced by something
that very much resembled pain.

“That’s where you and I are different, isn’t it?” Faith said almost
too quietly for Buffy to hear.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“That’s OK. I’ve made mistakes, I admit it.”

As she watched the other Slayer, Buffy finally realized that Angel was
right. The girl had changed. And she wanted nothing to do with
anything from her previous life. So, even if the Council had indeed
wanted her, she would have refused their offer. Of course, it seemed
clear by now that they only wanted her dead.

“You know, they won’t stop trying until they manage to kill you.”

And if I don’t do it, Buffy finished mentally, they will come
after me and Spike too.

“I know,” Faith replied simply.

Buffy got to her feet, and shook her head at the mess she was in.
She opened the door and started out, but Faith’s unusually soft voice caught
her before she could close it again.

“Buffy… I’m sorry.”

The blonde flashed the brunette a tentative smile.

“Me too.”

Next