Chapter Six

Buffy flipped blindly through the channels on the TV., her eyes drifting every so often to the book sitting ominously on the coffee table. Sighing heavily, and shifting her body away from it, she tried again to focus on the pictures flipping by in front of her. After the third time through, she flicked the TV off and tossed to remote onto the cushion next to her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at the book again, scowling.

*I am not going to read that* she told herself firmly, standing to go into the kitchen. Two seconds later she was back in the living room, staring at the dusty old tome as if it would suddenly rear up and bite her. *No* she turned again, walking to the refrigerator. When all she encountered was two eggs, a half a jar of strawberry preserves, and a container of yogurt that looked like it had made the move from L.A. to Sunnydale with them, she slammed the door closed. Resting her forehead against the cool metal, she closed her eyes. By the time she had made it home from the Magic Box, she had convinced herself that it didn’t matter what Angel had done in the past. He had a soul now, and THAT was what mattered. Spike was just pissed that she had remembered what a monster he was.

“He changed because he had to. I changed because I wanted to.” Spike’s words drifted back to her, and she groaned aloud. *What the hell am I supposed to do?* she asked herself. Spike was chip free now. The answer should have been simple. But when was anything with Spike EVER simple?

With a sigh of resignation, Buffy turned away from the fridge, and made her way back into the living room. Perching herself on the edge of the couch, she reached out for the book three times before finally allowing her fingers to close around it. Pulling it to her, she settled back into the cushions, drawing her legs up next to her. Running her hands idly across the cover, she debated internally if she really wanted to know. *No, but when has that ever made a difference?*

Taking a deep breath, and squaring her shoulders as if preparing for battle, she opened the cover and flipped to the pages Spike had indicated. The hole in the middle of the spine made some words difficult to make out, but she got the idea. She read until her eyes felt gritty from strain, and still she read on. Tears coursed silently down her face as she discovered just what a monster Angel really had been. Angel had killed anybody and anything. He knew no discrimination. He had even killed the entire family of a demon hunter, raping the wife first and turning the daughter.

When she was finished with Angel, she reread Spike’s. The difference between the two was immense. Whereas Angel killed for sport, Spike killed for survival. Not to say that he hadn’t participated in a blood bath or two. But further reading indicted that it was because Dru’s safety had been compromised. Prague being the worst example of how far he would go to punish the people that had hurt her. He was the only vampire in the book that HADN’T killed his own family (save Dru, but that was because Angel had taken care of that for her.) From what she could tell, the only reason Spike was in this book was because he had killed two Slayers. In the demon community that demanded a respect equal to nothing in the human world. Especially since he had sought them out. The other demons that had managed to have one good day, had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not Spike, he had looked for them. In a way, it made sense. Spike always liked a good fight. What was it he said, the night that they had taken down Glory? “Always knew I would go down fighting.” Or something to that affect. He would feel that anything other than a fight to the death would be a pitiful way to die. And who better to fight than a Slayer? Who better to take down the baddest of the Big Bad than the Chosen one?

Before she knew it, Buffy was through the whole book. Tapping her fingers against the cover, she looked around the room. Suddenly, she felt the need to know more about the creatures she hunted every night. And not just the Watcher’s Councils version. Turning her head, her eyes came in contact with Willows’ computer set up on the dining room table. Placing the book on the table, she strode to it. Turning it on, she went into the kitchen to get herself something to drink. She returned a moment later, a glass of soda in her hand. Once it was booted up, she signed onto the Internet, not sure if she would even find anything. As soon as the search screen came up, she quickly typed the word that had changed her life.

VAMPIRE.

~*~*~

Soundlessly, Spike staled through the cemetery, hoping to encounter something to kill.

*Stupid little chit* he growled inwardly, the image of Buffy’s pale face and wide eyes swimming through his mind. *Fuck.* He hadn’t meant to tell her like that. Had hoped to develop a level of trust between them before he had to. But, she HAD to read that bloody book. The accusation and distrust written all over her face had nearly done him in. He’d resisted all urges to turn into s babbling idiot and had managed to keep old of his pride. He wasn’t going to snivel, or cry, or beg for forgiveness for what he had done. He was a vampire. Killing came part and parcel with the whole night creature bit. But, the past couple of years of being around the Scoobies ad given him a new perspective.

When he had emerged from the doctors office, newly chip free, he hadn’t wanted to try out his newly regained bite. That wasn’t why he had done it. Life wasn’t about blood and destruction any more. (Okay, it still had to be about blood, but not fresh from the tap, so to speak.) Even before it had come out, whenever he tried to fantasize about killing, the random person would morph into one of the Slayerettes. More often than not it would be Dawn or Buffy. But, occasionally, it would turn into one of the others. Even Xander.

After the first time it had happened, he had cursed and screamed. Sid had cowered in the lower level of the crypt, while Spike had systematically torn apart the top. Eventually, he had accepted that his days at the top of the food chain were over. Then finally, with their acceptance of him after Glory, the thought of doing it all had completely fled his mind.

As his memories drifted to that night, his heart clenched. He had pushed Doc off the tower before he had cut Dawn. Just as he was releasing her, Buffy had emerged at the top, the look of gratitude she gave him caused hi undead heart to contract once (or at least he liked t think so). Together, they had gotten Dawn off the rickety tower, joining the rest of the Scoobies on the ground. He had stood, just of the outside of the circle of friends as they hugged and cried. Feeling a little out of place, he had turned to leave, only to be called back by the Slayer. When he had turned to face them again, he saw her outstretched hand, the look on her face telling him ‘you belong’. With a look of pure awe, he had reached out to take it, her warm fingers clasping around his cool ones. He had moved into the circle, ignoring the disgust rolling off Xander (he and that boy would never get along), returned the grudging respect from the Watcher, and basked in the warmth the women had bestowed on him. That was the night he realized he was truly home.

He growled again, the sound disturbing the crows sitting on a headstone to his left. Tonight, Buffy, hater of all things related to research, decides to crack open a book. He snorted as he fished through his pockets for his cigarettes. That girl was going to drive him crazy. She was going to succeed where a hundred or so years with Dru hadn’t. Pausing to light his smoke, a scent drifted to him on the air. Closing his eyes as he took a deep drag, his head hung low in resignation.

*Not again* was all he thought as he let the smell lead him to the cause. He didn’t hurry this time, knowing that what he would find would somehow make things click in his brain, And he wasn’t sure he wanted that. His brows drew together as he neared his crypt, stopping to determine if it was coming from inside his home. Relieved that it wasn’t, he still wasn’t pleased that it was so close. Rounding the back, he stopped short, his entire body stiff as he took in the little message that was left for him.

The girl was impaled on a tree this time, spikes through the shoulders taking the place of stakes. A cross hung low between the remains of her breasts, one side dipping into the incision down her torso. The culprit had only attacked her upper torso this time, or so Spike thought. At that moment, the moon moved from behind the clouds, allowing his yellows eyes to see even more clearly. Her mouth was frozen in that Mona Lisa smile again, but that wasn’t the worst thing about her face. Where her eyes should have been, empty sockets stared back at him. *See no evil* He didn’t know what made him think of it, but something about the wide open eyes with nothing there brought it to mind. He took in the color of her hair, and the size of her body, and just as he suspected, things started to click.

The sudden whine from next to him made him jump, and he looked around to make sure that nobody had seen him.

“Hey, Sid.” he said to the dog. Sid looked from him to the body on the tree, and whined again. “Yeah, I feel the same way.” He told him, digging into his pocket for his cell. Trying to hide his accent as much as possible, he called the police. Hanging up before they could ask for his name and address, he went to the crypt to collect some of his things. The cops would be milling around here for who knew how long, not to mention that they would probably search the surrounding area, finding that somebody had taken up residence not ten feet from the body. He wanted to be long gone before that happened,

Working quickly, he grabbed what he could, than turned to leave, casting one last look around the place that had been his home for the better part of two years. Calling Sid, he walked out into the night, determined to go see Buffy once more. Whether she wanted to or not, they had to talk.

~*~*~

Pacing restlessly across the floor, he kept turning his eyes to the computer screen. Several hours had passed since he had left his present, and she still hadn’t come upstairs to get it. It had been thrilling, sneaking into her house while she was home. Knowing that any second she could walk upstairs and he would be discovered. Then he had come home, waiting patiently for her to find her gift. He wondered what she could be doing downstairs for so long. Maybe he should have placed cameras through the rest of the house, too. She was probably just downstairs watching t.v. Nothing to worry about. Really.

*There is no chance that Spike is there.* he thought with a grin. Maybe that’s what was going on. Maybe she had found his gift while he had been on his way home, and she was out dusting the blond pest this very moment. That image pleased him immensely as he envisioned the vampire’s look of shock as her stake hit home. Then she would dust her hands, as she had done every time she did just this, than go home, without a backwards glance.

Yes, he decided, this is what was happening. A whimper from the bed drew him out of his thoughts, and he turned to look at his guest.

“Tell me something.” he started, looking at the figure. “What is it with women?” His tone was conversational, his posture casual as he asked this. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “I mean, WHY do they think with their cunt and not their brains? All your kind ever seems to do is choose the wrong man, the one that will hurt you in the end. Or, you throw away good ones because they aren’t ‘exciting’.” He paused to consider, staring blindly at the wall. “You’re always looking for the next best thing, never content with what you have. None of you. My mother was like that. Bitch.” he spat. “Always telling my father what a loser he was.” A sinister smile curled his lip, making his guest whimper yet again. He moved towards her now, his nude body illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the window. His company started to squirm on the bed at the sight.

“See what I mean? Look at you, writhing around like a bitch in heat.” He shook his head in disgust, the bed creaking as he mounted her. Her squirming increased as he plunged into her, her scream muffled by the tape across her mouth.

“Slut.” He ground out through clenched teeth. She yanked against her bonds, blood seeping from the newly reopened wounds. Pain lanced through her, and she finally just went limp. A few seconds later, he grunted in climax, his pelvic bone bruising hers as he slammed into her the final time.

Rolling away from her, he immediately walked to the bathroom, so he could wash the stink of her off. The woman on the bed closed her eyes, revolted by the feel of his cum sliding out of her to pool on the bed. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she felt the last of her hope die in her heart.

~*~*~

Rubbing a hand over her tired eyes, Buffy again focused on the screen in front of her. She had been overwhelmed by the amount of sights that had been listed in reference to vampires. Of course, most of them had to do with movies, books, or cults. She had gotten frustrated quickly, but she kept trudging through, her eyes growing blurrier with each second. Finally, after much pointing and clicking, and not staying on any one sight more than a few seconds, she came across something. It was a tiny little caption, nothing distinctive about it all. The word vampire was written in lower case letters, and their was no description under the link. But something pulled her there. Her eyes widened comically after she clicked on it. Before her eyes was a search engine. A rather large search engine. The background was white, and the lettering purple. It wasn’t flashy or elaborate. It just listed everything in an index on the side, which apparently led you to different areas for research. Everything she could ever want to know about anything supernatural was laid out before her.

Scrolling quickly through the index, she clicked on vampires-myth, legend, lies and truths. It took a full minute for the page to load, and she had almost given up by the time it popped up in front of her. Buffy’s mouth dropped open as she began to read, learning more than she ever wanted to know about vampire mating rituals, clan hierarchies, and the complexities of childe/sire bonds. She was stunned to learn that Spike was not the first vampire to fall in love with a slayer. She didn’t know what bothered her more, the fact that whoever built this sight knew that, or the fact that this person knew what a slayer was.

She was also stunned to learn that her foresisters weren’t as opposed to the idea of mating with a soulless vamp as she was. Or as she had been. She didn’t know what she was anymore. Several had chosen vampire lovers, in the days before the Watcher’s Council was created. After wards, it didn’t happen very often, and the Watcher usually staked the vamp, believing that his Slayer was enthralled. But the fact that it had happened, knocked her world completely on its ass.

The Slayers who had vampire mates B.C. (before Council) lived well beyond the current age expectancy. The vampires they were mated to had completely jumped sides, fighting beside their partners until death did them part.

*Is this for real* she thought to herself, not really wanting to believe it. She searched the sight for one of those ‘contact me’ buttons, but couldn’t find one. Not knowing what to believe, she book marked the sight, and logged off, needing to give her tired brain a rest. To much sensory over load over the past couple of days was going to do her in, if she didn’t rest. Stretching, she turned off the computer. She’d have to tell Giles about the sight. Willow would be smug, she thought with a smile. She was always telling Giles that they had more uses than collecting dust. If this sight was for real, then they could use it in addition to his precious books.

Walking upstairs, Buffy pushed all thoughts of vampires, slayers and dead bodies away. All she wanted to think of now was a bubble bath and bed. With the promise of hot water and cool sheets, she pushed open her door and stepped inside. Flicking on the light, she turned towards the bed, her eyes falling onto the spread. She stopped short when she saw a package sitting in the middle of the bed. Letting out an annoyed sigh, she traversed the length of carpet and snatched it off the bed.

*Spike certainly doesn’t know when to back off, does he?* she said to herself. Yanking the bow away, and pulling off the lid, she gasped when she saw what was inside. Inside was a freshly whittled stake, it’s surface cured to a dark, blonde color. Sliding it into her palm, she tested it’s weight, liking the way it felt in her hand. She felt something rough against her palm, and she turned the smooth wood over. There, in beautifully sculpted letters, was Spike’s name. Buffy felt a giggle explode from her chest.

She’d always said she had a stake with his name on it, and now, she really did. Her giggle turned into a laugh as she pondered the sick sense of humor Spike had.

When the knock came at the door, Buffy ran down the stairs to answer it, not realizing that she was still clutching the stake. Even though she already knew who was there, (super Slayer sense, and all that) she still looked surprised when she pulled it open. Maybe it was the ratty dog sitting by his feet on the porch. Or maybe it was the duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Ignoring the stab of alarm THAT brought on, she looked at him.

“Who’s your friend?” She asked, glancing down at the dog. Spike followed her gaze, a ghost of a smile curving his lips.

“Sid. Say hello.” he told him, and Sid complied with a bark and a thump of his tale. Buffy found herself charmed immediately. The thought of Spike with a dog, even a dog named after a Sex Pistol, was very sweet. When Spike looked back up at her, the smile was gone.

“Buffy, we need to talk.” He told her, pulling her attention back to his chiseled features. She looked into the blue fire of his eyes for a moment, then kissed her bubble bath and bed goodnight. *Will this night EVER end?* she thought, stepping aside to let him in.

“He can come in.” she said, when Spike told Sid to stay. The blonde looked doubtful.

“He’s awful dirty, luv.”

“I still let you in, don’t I?” she teased. That garnered her a glare from the vampire, but he snapped his fingers and the dog happily crossed the threshold.

Spike followed Buffy into the living room, noticing the stake for the first time when she threw it on the coffee table. His scarred brow shot up, but since she wasn’t lunging at him, he didn’t say anything about it. Buffy sat down on the couch, her eyes searching his face. He had something on his mind, and she tell it was more than what happened at the Magic Box.

Buffy thought about that for a second, while she waited for him to speak. When did she start being able to read him so well? Just when did his facial expressions and body language become as familiar as her own? Hell, she could almost tell what he was going to say before he said it. Could that website be right? Was it more natural than not for a Slayer to be mated with a vampire? *More questions, no answers* she thought, feeling her left temple start to throb with a tension headache.

“What is it, Spike?” she asked when the silence stretched between them. “It’s more than what happened earlier, isn’t it?” A sharp nod from him indicated she was right, and he started to reach for his cigarettes. Just as his fingers brushed across them, he remembered her ‘no smoking’ rule. He settled for running his hand over Sid’s scarred head, instead.

“I found another body.” Okay, she hadn’t been prepared for that. Her skin blanched to a sickly white, and her voice, when she finally found it, shook.

“Where?”

“Behind my crypt.” Her eyes widened, and her fingers clutched tightly in her lap. No wonder he had the bag, she thought numbly. Couldn’t stay there with the police poking around.

“What. . .” She took a deep, calming breath, before continuing. “What was done to her?”

“Buf. . .”

“Tell. Me.” He did, quickly, all the while watching her face turn from that awful white to an even more terrible green. When he was done, she was off the couch and sprinting to the downstairs bathroom. Spike finally moved to a chair, suddenly feeling very weary. He rested his temple against his fist, and waited for the Slayer to return. His eyes roamed over the book on the coffee table to settle on the bringer of death to his kind. Leaning forward, he picked it up, noticing the lettering almost immediately. His jaw dropped open when he saw his name written across it. He looked up at Buffy when she returned, holding a wet washcloth against her mouth.

“Pet, why do you have a stake with my name on it?” he asked, holding up the offending piece of wood.

“What do you mean? You left it.” she said, sinking back down onto the couch. “And it was an awfully. . .sick. . .joke.” She slowed when she saw the look of utter confusion on his face. “You didn’t leave it?” she asked, her stomach threatening to spill all over again.

“WHY would I do that?” he replied, dropping the stake back onto the table. Buffy looked at it in horror, as it rolled towards her. Suddenly, it seemed as dangerous as a pissed off rattle snake.

“Well, I always told you that I had a stake with your name on it, I just thought. . .” she trailed off, her voice getting smaller with each word, until she was whispering.

“Where did you find it?” He asked, standing again. If his theory was right, and he had a sick feeling it was, this was not some gag gift.

“My room.” In a shot, he was up the stairs. As soon as he entered the room, the smell hit him. It permeated the room, touching everything inside. Cursing, he stalked over to the open window, sticking his head out and listening. Hearing nothing, he pulled himself back in and slammed down the sash, turning the lock with a violent twist. Taking one last look around the room, he saw the slowly wilting rose on her dresser, and the teddy bear sitting jauntily next to it. Shaking his head, Spike went back down stairs. Buffy was still sitting on the couch, looking at the stake as if it might bite her.

“It’s me, isn’t it.” Her words were soft, so soft, that Spike’s enhanced hearing had trouble picking it up.

“What’s that, luv.” he asked her, moving in to sit next to her on the couch. Sid immediately plopped down next to him on the floor.

“He’s killing ME, isn’t he?” Her wide, hazel eyes met his, fear writhing in their depths.

“It’s a little to much to be coincidence.” he agreed, scowling at the tears in her eyes. Fear had a tight hold on his stomach as well. They had faced some pretty nasty things together over the past few months, Glory not the least of them. But this, something you couldn’t see, with no rhyme or reason behind it. This was truly what terror felt like.

“The stakes, the garlic. A cross. There all blonde and small. Oh god. Why didn’t I see it before?” She asked nobody in particular. Her eyes widened even more when they fell on the book and the stake. “Oh God. Spikes.”

“What?”

“You said that girl was impaled with spikes.” she waited for him to nod before snatching the book off the table. Opening it to the middle, she showed him the neat hole through the center. His brows drew together, as he looked at her. “I found this book on the table at the Magic Box. With a spike stuck through the middle. I didn’t go looking for this book, it was left for me. Then, I get the little present. And that girl. . .behind your crypt.” Tears flowed free down her cheeks as the dots started to connect. “Her eyes. . . See no Evil.” If Spike had a heartbeat, it would have skipped when she echoed his thoughts from earlier. That girls eyes had been torn out because that nutter thought that Buffy couldn’t see Spike for what he really was. “He’s been here, in my house, killing all those poor girls because they look like me. And, he wants me to kill you.” Buffy broke down completely then, her shoulders shaking with each rattling sob that convulsed through her. Instinctively, Spike reached out and pulled her into his lap. Buffy buried her face in his chest, her fingers curling tightly around the lapels of his leather duster.

Spike lost track of time as he held her. But, eventually, her sobbing softened into whimpers, which eventually dwindled into sniffles. He continued to hold her, simply enjoying the feel of her tiny, warm body cradled against him. After the way they had parted that afternoon, he had been pretty sure he’d never get this close to her again. He still wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t kick his ass the second she came back to her senses.

“Spike.” she hiccupped, her voice muffled against the hardness of his chest.

“Yeah, luv?” He looked down at the top of her head, angling his head to hear her better.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She shifted in his arms, until she could see his face.

“About earlier. You were right. Angel was worse than you ever were. And, I believe that you love me.” Shock flashed briefly through his eyes, but, he didn’t interrupt. “I wanted you to know that I do ‘see’ you.” It took a minute, but realization finally washed over Spike, and it hit him hard.

“What are you saying, Buffy.” His accented voice was thick as he looked at her, not really believing the emotions he saw swirling in her eyes.

“I’m saying, you’ve got your crumb.” His arms tightened fractionally around her, and he looked at her like he had never seen her before.

“W. . .Why?” he finally managed, and she let out a sound that was caught between a sniffle and a giggle. She started shifting again, finally settling straddled across his lap. Her hands cupped his face and her hazel eyes burned into his. He laid his hands on her thighs, returning her gaze with a guarded look. She smiled a bit at his expression.

“Because, I DO see you. You were right earlier, changing because you want to, whatever the reason, is better than changing because of a curse.” her words washed over him, cleansing him. He stared at her, transfixed by the softness of her eyes, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Afraid that this was all a dream. “I already know I want you. I’m willing to see if I can love you.” She finished, brushing her thumb across his bottom lip. The look of awe and wonderment that crossed his features nearly broke her heart. All thoughts of girls killed in her image, and serial killers invading her home fled her mind. She couldn’t think of that now, not when she was feeling so safe and secure sitting on his lap, the love emanating from those cerulean eyes wrapping her in a blanket of contentment. With a sigh, she leaned towards him, pressing herself ever closer to his lean body. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and his hands gripped almost painfully on her thighs when she brushed her mouth across his.

Her fingers slipped into the silky tresses of his platinum hair, marveling at the softness as she kissed him again. He quickly got over his shock and kissed her back. Several small, wet, open mouth kisses followed as they tasted each other. His lips were cool against hers, stoking and soothing the fires that had begun to build just from the gentle kisses. So different from any kiss she’d had before. Angel’s had been tender and passionate, but there was always that feeling that he was holding back. Especially after he lost his soul. Parker, never mind. Riley, her only human boyfriend, had been too hot, she decided now, as Spikes coolness seeped into her, sending shivers across her skin.

Spike’s hands slid up her thighs, to splay across the bare skin of her back, just under the sports bra she was still wearing. He pulled her more firmly against her, allowing her to feel what she was doing to him as his expert mouth continued to almost sip from hers like she was a fine wine. His tongue darted out to taste her lip, the saltiness of her tears still lingering there. She moaned when he did this, her own tongue searching for his. But he evaded her, not yet ready to give up his exploration. His teeth gently nipped against the soft swell of flesh, his tongue dipping inside to taste, to tease. She whimpered in frustration when he refused to deepen the kiss yet again, the fell of him pressed intimately against her in all the right places nearly doing her in. She shifted her hips a bit in his lap, grinding her heat against his hard length. She used the opportunity his startled gasp provided to plunge her tongue into his mouth. His chest rumbled with his growl as her tongue darted into battle his, then retreated to only come back and slide sensually over it.

He tasted like cigarettes, and beer, with a slight copperiness of blood. Taste of Spike, her mind thought giddily, as she greedily dove in for more. There was an almost wild flavor to him, something so purely male that it made her dizzy. Her hips were writhing in time with her tongues movements in his mouth, her breasts crushed deliciously against his chest. Her fingers scratched lightly against scalp, pleased when his own moans echoed in her ears. Buffy struggled to breath as she attacked his mouth, loathe to let him go for even something as essential as air.

Spike hands were sliding across her back, causing gooseflesh to break out across her skin. He thrust his hips up into her, seeking the wet heat that teased him through their combined clothing. Her rubbed his erection across her slit, eliciting a groan from her when he hit her sensitive bundle of nerves.

MORE, both their minds screamed in unison, and Spike quickly changed their positions on the couch, laying her back so he could settle his length on top of her. They never broke the kiss, not until he pulled away to shrug out of duster and t-shirt. Her hands reached for him, pulling him back to her as soon as the black material cleared his head. Her hands were all over his back and chest, running her nails across alabaster skin, lightly scraping his flat nipples. Another growl followed this, and she did it again. Spike was not idle as her hands worshiped his chest. His own fingers trailed along her stomach, pushing the bra away to palm the heaving mound of her breast. She hissed through her teeth and arched into him, her nipple puckering under his touch. He watched as her eyes clouded even further, before dipping his head to taste the hard nubbin. His tongue trailed wet circles around it, lightly flicking across it before he gave into her urging to take her fully into his mouth. A hand clutched in his hair, holding him against her, as her hips thrust up again, begging for the release she felt just hovering out of reach. The feel of his wet, cool mouth on her skin, his teeth grazing her nipple had her almost screaming.

They were so lost in the taste and feel of each other, that neither noticed Sid’s actions on the floor. He had been resting his head on his paws, oblivious to the sexual encounter going on above him. However, something caught his attention, and he raised his head, ears perked as he listened. A low whine that went unnoticed by the human and the vampire filled the air. It wasn’t until Sid took off up the stairs, his barks reverberating through the house that the two on the couch tore apart, startled. In a shot, Spike was after him, Buffy close behind him, to find the dog in her room. He was hunched low, his ears plastered against his head as he stared at the closed window. His entire body was tensed for attack, his teeth bared as he snapped and snarled at some unseen thing outside the glass.

“Spike.” Buffy called when he went over to the window. He glanced back at her, but unlocked it and opened it again. Sid had moved behind him, waiting for his vampire to tell him to attack. Spike took a second to marvel at how well the dog had been trained, and how he had so easily transferred it all to Spike.

Feeling out with his senses, before hazarding to stick his head outside again, he morphed into game face to see more clearly. Nothing. He didn’t see or feel anything. But he didn’t doubt the dog. He glanced around the yard, noticing that dawn was fast approaching, before pulling back into the room. Closing and locking it once more, he turned to look at the now calm Sid and a wide eyed Buffy.

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” He told her. She nodded, running a hand through her tangled hair.

“Good.” She whispered, sinking to the edge of he bed. Spike moved over to her, bending down to look at her.

“Pet, dawns coming. I better go find somewhere to stay.” he told her.

“You could stay here.” she said quietly. He smiled, his hand coming up to brush her knuckles against her cheek.

“Don’t think we’re quite ready for that yet. We still have a lot to suss out before we start playing house. ” He said, dropping his hand. She cocked her head to study him, her expression telling him she was about to argue. But, instead she just nodded.

“Alright.”

“I think I should leave him here.” Spike said, waving a hand towards Sid, who was still looking at the closed window.

“Yeah, please. Leave the good dog that barks at the nasties trying to come inside uninvited.” she replied, very much liking the idea. Even though the dog definitely needed a bath. She’d have to see about that later. “He’s housebroken, right?”

“Yeah. Listens well, too.” He snapped his fingers and Sid trotted over to them, panting happily when two hands reached out to ruffle his fur. “You stay here, Sid. Protect the lady.” Sid thumped his tail in response, nuzzling the hand of his vampire’s mistress. Buffy giggled at the feel of the wet, cold nose against her hand. She sobered when she looked at Spike.

“Be careful.” She told him, leaning in to brush a kiss across his mouth. His eyes drifted closed, and he rubbed his lips together, savoring the taste lingering in his lips.

“Always.” he told her, standing to leave. “I’ll meet you at the Bronze later. I don’t want you coming back here by yourself tonight. Alright?” She nodded, grimacing when she looked at the clock. At least she had the late shift at work. “You be careful, too.”

“Hey, I’m the Slayer. He hasn’t actually come after ME yet. Probably knows I could kick his ass.” She snorted. Spike smiled at that. He leaned down and kissed her again.

“I love you.” he said, then turned to leave the room.

“I know.” she said, laying down on her side. Sid lay down on floor next to her, ready to defend the lady at a moments notice. She leaned over to set her alarm, then placed her hand on the dogs head. She heard the soft click of the front door as she drifted off to sleep, her dreams invaded by conflicting images of love and death.

~*~*~

What the fuck! He thought as he ran quickly through town, cutting through back yards and alleys to reach his home. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, WHY was Spike still a walking, talking member of the undead?? And why was he in her house, AGAIN! With that fucking dog.

What the fuck was wrong with her? His crazed mind screamed. How could she let him back in,, knowing what he had done? And that he was now chipless. She should have been kicking his ass and then vacuuming him up like the garbage he was. Lithely, he jumped a fence, then dug in his pockets for his keys. Letting himself inside, he slammed the door, then rested back against it. His guest jumped at the sound, her arms and legs pulling against their bonds once more. She listened as he stalked around the living room, flinching each time she heard something break. She prayed that he wouldn’t come in the room, and play back what had transpired in the room while he was gone. It would enrage him to see the shirtless and obviously disheveled vampire. Not to mention the equally disheveled Buffy. And she knew, that she would bare the punishment of the Slayers transgressions. Tears leaked anew as she listened to him storming towards the bedroom. Fear crawled around like a living thing, just under her skin.

Each time he used her, she prayed desperately, that this time, THIS TIME, he would finally kill her. She wanted to die, because she knew, if she managed to survive, that she would never be able to live again.

But she knew, he wouldn’t kill her. She was here to serve penance for all the sins of the female gender. She understood vengeance. Had a deep seeded respect for it. However, this was just sick. She had watched him do many countless things over the past weeks, things that she had been powerless to stop. She had tried to scream once, when he had taken off the tape to feed her.

That was the first time he had raped her. He’d then left her alone for two days, only paying attention to her when she couldn’t hold it anymore and had soiled herself. He’d then tsked and scolded, but cleaned her up, then left her alone again until the next time.

Humiliation, anger, fear and disgust were her constant companions now. And as she watched him enter the bedroom, his clothes being dropped in a trail behind him, she started to pray again. He crawled on the bed, shoving into her already ravaged core, forcing her to scream from behind the tape. She prayed for herself, and Buffy. Hell, she even prayed for Spike. Because, none of this would end until the man pumping into her was dead.

Yawning widely, Buffy walked slowly down the street. A plastic bag full of doggie bath, a flea collar, and dog food swung loosely in her hand. She had just gotten off work, with a brief stop at the pet store to get some stuff for Sid. She had realized, when she woke up to get ready for work, that she didn’t have anything to feed him. Luckily, he seemed to like the dry bowl of Cocoa Puffs just fine. When she had left, she’d left him in the back yard, setting a bowl of water down by the kitchen porch. He had looked at her with his wide, sad brown eyes as she walked to the gate, and Buffy had to restrain herself from calling in to work.

She had resisted going home to check on him after she had gotten off work to go meet Spike. She knew the vampire would start to worry if she didn’t show up within a reasonable time, and she had managed to convince herself that Sid would be fine. He had managed to survive this long living in a cemetery with Spike, so a few hours in the back yard shouldn’t be a problem.

An image of the bleach blonde shifted through her mind, causing a smile to slip across her face. It was a nice picture too. Shirtless and mussed, his lips swollen from her kisses. She felt her skin start to heat as she remembered their interrupted passion play on the couch that morning. She had thought of that all day, whenever the horror tried to weasel its way into her mind. But, even with delicious images of half naked Spike, she couldn’t quite dispel the fear that had been tagging along with her.

The fact that somebody was breaking into her house to leave her gifts, the same someone that had been butchering girls with the misfortune to resemble her, wigged her out more than any Hell beastie she had ever faced. It was easy to look at a demon and think ‘evil, must slay.’ Humans were the beings she was supposed to PROTECT from the demons. And now, someone was killing girls BECAUSE of her. The guilt and weight of responsibility that put on her were immense. She was scared, and that was a feeling she didn’t like. She hadn’t felt anything like this since Dawn got taken by Glory. Not even when her mom got sick compared to this. How do you fight something you can’t see?

In between her Spike fantasies, she had tried to figure out who would do this. Angelus popped to mind immediately. But, he would have let her know it was him. Riley was another possibility. But she dismissed almost as quickly as she had dismissed Xander’s image from the list. Oz had been dismissed even more quickly than the prior two. If, by some chance he had gone all nuts, he would have gone after Willow, or Tara. Not the Slayer. Even Parker had been a consideration, but she’d had to fight off a wave of giggles with that one. Besides, he’d known nothing about her nightly activities. The thought that Spike had done it in some attempt to play the hero and get into her pants had wormed its way through her brain, only to be discarded. Spike was nothing if not direct, and this was so not his style.

Every man she had ever known flitted through her brain, but she had refused to believe it was any of them. She knew she was working in the land of denial, but how do you convince yourself that someone you know, someone you love, could be a killer? Of course, that brought to mind Angel and Spike, but, she knew they were killers. She probably knew their killing habits better than they did after reading that book.

Sighing, Buffy started to walk a little faster, the need to see Spike becoming stronger with each step she took. Several times, she had glanced over her shoulder, the constant feeling of being watched never leaving her. But every time she turned, all she saw was the usual couples, groups of kids and the occasional person just walking home, or wherever their destination might be.

She turned around with disgust, thinking idly that serial killers should be born with some disfigurement to make them identifiable. Thinking that, she remembered a movie that she and Willow had watched one night before Glory had reared her badly permed head. They had marveled at how Harry Connick jr. could look so hot in other movies, but in this one, he had given them the serious wiggins. His very demeanor screamed, ‘Stay Away’. But the other one, the one who had been doing the copy cat killing, had been normal looking with glasses and blonde hair. And really cute too.

Scowling in disgust, she walked into the Bronze, the pulsating music beat through her, making her veins seem to throb as it filled the air around her. She immediately began to seek him out, smiling when she saw him by the pool tables hustling some unsuspecting college boys. He looked up when she walked over, winking as he sank a difficult shot, winning the game. The males around him scowled and cussed, handing over the money they had foolishly bet with some reluctance. His grin was wicked as he took their money, than turned away to wrap an arm around Buffy and pull her close for a kiss. This caused the men to scowl once more, taking in the beautiful young woman in her slim black skirt, and soft white sweater. Why was it that guys like him always got the good ones?

Buffy and Spike ignored them as they stormed away, to intent on the play of each others’ mouths across their own. Her smile was almost dreamy when she pulled away.

“Scamming the locals again?” she teased, pulling the money out of his hand to count it. Her eyes bugged when she counted close a thousand dollars.

“Have to get my evil kicks some way.” He said with a smirk, pulling his cigarette out of his pocket. She slipped the money into his duster, taking the lighter from him and lighting the cigarette herself.

“I suppose I can allow some harmless hustling. Definitely not something I need to slay you for.” She said, but he saw the hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“I told you once, luv. I haven’t even tried. And I won’t.” He assured, blowing a plume of smoke over her head before leaning in to kiss her again. The bag she was holding bounced against his thigh, and he pulled away to look at it. “What’s that?”

“Some things for Sid. Come on, you can help me give him a bath, He is one stinky dog.” The look on Spike’s face made her giggle.

“Oh, joy. I’d rather give you a bath.” He purred, his arm coming to rest around her shoulder as she led him through the crowd and out into the night. Neither had felt the eyes burning into their retreating forms. Neither noticed the man storming past them through the door to stalk unseeing into the night. So entranced in Buffy’s scent of vanilla and spice, Spike never caught the whiff of a killer.

~*~*~

Rage burned bright and hot through his veins as he made his way blindly down the street. Questions swirled through his mind that only caused his anger and hatred to increase. Over and over they screamed through him, making him doubt his faith in her. His faith in his love for her.

How could something so pure, so perfect, want that things hands on her? He remembered the look on her face when she turned into Spike’s kiss, welcoming the taint of his lips against hers. She had read the book, knew that his chip was out. Why wasn’t she giving him his one way ticket to Hell?

He stopped walking, and turned to stare into the window of a darkened store. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, and a scowl darkened his handsome features. His mind was ablaze with dark delicious images. She was no better than those other whores, he decided. But even as he thought it, everything in his being rebelled against it. Madness and confusion danced through him, deepening the need to hurt, destroy. Anything to release this blackness building within him.

He turned and started walking again, impervious to the people around him. He missed the appreciative looks from the women, the annoyed looks from the men. There was something about a dangerous looking man that commanded attention. And he had it rolling off him in waves.

She had to be taught a lesson that was all. She just didn’t realize that she belonged to him. She was HIS salvation, his beacon of light. She couldn’t sully herself with that . . . THING.

His thoughts tumbled around in his head, jumping from one extreme to the next. Never settling on one long enough to gel into a real revelation. The only thing that kept slamming into the forefront was that he needed to find a way to remove the vampire from the equation. Fighting him was out of the question. Spike was strong, quick and clever. He would defend himself to the death, especially if he had hope with Buffy.

His head was down as he walked, so he didn’t see her until they collided. He scrambled to help her up, slipping easily into the goofy charm that had served him well in his life.

“Hey, I’m sorry. You all right?” He asked, flashing her a self-deprecating smile. He pulled her easily to her feet, silently thanking whoever that California had an overabundance of blondes. Unfortunately, her eyes were a pale brown, but, he could make due.

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine.” She said, dusting herself off. She offered him a shy smile, thinking to herself that he had beautiful eyes.

“I’m really sorry.” He said again, bending to help her retrieve her books.

“Thanks.” She said, taking them from him.

“No problem. Hey, can I buy you a cup of coffee? It’s the least I can do for running you over.” She studied him for a minute, taking in the kind eyes and the sweet smile. He was cute, and he seemed nice.

“Sure. My name’s Veronica.” She said as they started down the street together.

“Hello, Veronica. My name’s Jesse.”

~*~*~

Buffy sat helplessly on the bathroom floor, her hands banded around her stomach as she fought to control the laughter that was bubbling from her lips. Spike sat on the closed toilet, scowling. One hand was braced against his knee, and the forearm of his other was leaning across the other one. She looked up at him and burst into another fit of giggles at the sight of his soaked clothing, ripped T-shirt, and wildly curling platinum curls.

“I’m glad you find this so amusing, pet. Next time, you can hold the bloody dog.” He snarled, glaring at the now clean Sid as he regarded the two human types. Sid cocked his head to the side at the menace in his master’s tone, then turned his brown eyes to regard the near hysterical Slayer on the floor.

“I. . .I’m s-sorry.” She hiccupped, not looking the least apologetic. Sid had not taken kindly to the thought of getting in the bath. In fact, after Buffy had led him into the bathroom, he had taken one look at the water filled tub, and Spike standing next to it trying to urge him in, and bolted. He had led them on a merry chase through the house, their preternatural speed doing nothing to help them in the pursuit of the dog. Spike had finally cornered him in the kitchen, lunging and capturing the reluctant mutt in his arms. He’d kept firm hold on the struggling mass of fur all the way up the stairs.

“The lady says you need a bath, so in you go.” He told Sid firmly, dropping the dog into the warm water. Immediately, he jumped back out, only to be thwarted by the closed bathroom door. Spike grabbed him again, pulling him back to the water. The dog struggled so much, that both he and Spike wound up in the water, the resulting splash soaking the floor and surrounding area. Spike grappled with the dog while Buffy quickly swooped in to pour the shampoo on him. It was a race to get him washed and rinsed before he managed to get away again. Spike cursed violently, and creatively, as Sid’s claws sliced through his T-shirt and into the skin of his chest and stomach.

As soon as Buffy was done, he let Sid go. He immediately jumped out of the water, shaking his body to rid himself of the excess moisture. This action soaked the rest of the bathroom, and Buffy as well. She had squealed, holding the towel she intended to dry him with in front of her like a shield. Her laughter had only increased when she had glanced at the drenched vampire, the scowl on his face doing nothing to dispel her merriment. He had crawled out of the tub, dripping even more water onto the floor, shaking his head in imitation of Sid, spraying Buffy even more. She had sunk to the floor as her laughter over took her. The sight of the pissed of, drowned looking vamp struck her as highly entertaining. Not even the sight of the welts through the tatters of his T-shirt could break through her mirth.

When she had finally calmed, she moved to Sid, and began drying him off. Luckily, he decided to sit still. Spike stripped off his shirt while she did this, cursing yet again at the angry red marks across his chest.

“Bloody dog.” He hissed, glaring at Buffy when she chortled again.

“What’s the matter, Spikey? The Big Bad can’t handle one little dog?” She taunted, not realizing her mistake until she felt his hands seize around her waist. “What are . . . ” was all she got out before she found herself submerged in the dog scented, soapy water. She came up sputtering, pushing her wet hair out of her face. Spike was bent over, his own laughter echoing in the tiny room. A cat like grin spread across her face, then her hand shot out and grabbed the band of his jeans.

“Bloody hell.” He yelled, as he quickly joined her in the water. The bathroom was now completely dripping from the tidal wave his body caused. He growled loudly as the water permeated his body once more. But the feel of Buffy’s warm hand sliding across his wet chest turned it into a purr.

“This place is mess.” She gasped, shifting so he was settled against her more comfortably.

“Yeah.” He said, making no move to get up. She sighed and leaned back, not caring that she was sitting in water that stank of wet dog, or the fact that it had about five years worth of dirt floating in it. All she cared about was the feel of his hard length leaning into her, and the way his skin felt under her hands. Sid sat next to the bathroom door, watching them as they settled into each other. He began scratching at the door, begging to be released from the torture chamber. They glanced over at him when he began to whine. Sighing, Spike stood and got out, then turned to help Buffy out.

“You start to clean this up, I’ll go change and try to find something for you to wear.” She said, chuckling. He scowled yet again, but pulled the towels off the bar to start drying the mess, emptying the tub before he started. When she returned a few minute later, still dressed in her sodden clothes, he quirked his scarred brow at her.

“Thought you were going to change?” he asked, wiping up the last of the water from the floor.

“Wet dog smell. So not appealing.” She said, wrinkling her nose. Spike took a long look at her, and felt himself harden in response. The white T-shirt and shorts that she had changed into before they started clung to her body, forming against the curves of her frame. Her dark nipples poked through the thin material, making his mouth go dry. He could see the shadowy outline of her panties, teasing him with the knowledge of what was beneath. Her golden hair curled around her tan face, her hazel eyes wide as she watched him rake his eyes over her. Her breathing had picked up, and the smell of her arousal floated over the smell of dog and soap. She gasped audibly when he crossed the short distance between them, crushing his mouth with hers in a possessive kiss. Her fingers clutched helplessly at his bare shoulders as his tongue swept inside to plunder her mouth. She pressed her body closer to his as she kissed him back, the feel of her wet breasts against him causing him to moan. He pulled away from her to allow her to breathe, resting his forehead against hers as he too panted with the intensity of his love and want for her.

“I’d say you’re pretty damn appealing.” He whispered, his husky voice sending shivers across her skin. She looked up at him, her eyes luminous, and filled with desire. The shrill sound of the phone ringing jolted them out of their erotic haze. Cursing Dawn for her timing, Buffy extracted herself from his embrace moved to answer it.

“Hello.” She hissed, expecting to hear her sister’s too happy voice on the other end.

“Bitch!” The word was like a slap in the face, dispelling all the happiness she had been feeling and dropping her back into the middle of reality. Her fingers tensed around the receiver, and her heart started to pound erratically in her chest. She didn’t notice Spike coming up behind her, or his hand resting lightly on her wet shoulder.

“Who is this?” She demanded, cursing inwardly when her voice shook.

“You were supposed to be different.” His voice was a harsh whisper, making it impossible to recognize.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re no better than any of the others.”

“You mean those poor girls you killed?” Her voice cracked on this. Her entire body was trembling, and she suddenly felt cold. Fear slid slickly through her veins, and it angered her. Spike pulled her back against his chest, cradling her in his arms, lending her strength.

“Those sluts were nothing. NOTHING! I was trying to show you . . . ” he trailed off, his words choking in his throat.

“Show me what? That you’re a fucking psychopath? I think, the only reason you haven’t come after me yet, is because you know you can’t take me. You play around at being a man, thinking you’re so special because you can kill those girls. All you are is a pathetic loser, who’s afraid of the Slayer.” She spat in disgust.

“I’m not afraid of you. I know you.” He hissed.

“Oh, yeah? Bring it on.” She retorted, her anger in full control now. Spike looked down at her furious profile, pleased to see the fire there. *Gods, she’s glorious. * He thought.

“I left you another present at the Magic Box.” He said, cutting off her reply by hanging up. Buffy slammed down the phone, and pulled out of Spike’s arms.

“Pet, where’re you going?” He asked, knowing full well where she going. She had stormed into her bedroom, an anxious Sid right behind her. Spike leaned on the door frame, watching her as she pulled off her wet clothes and found dry ones. Once she had on her jeans and a T-shirt, she threw one at him while she went in search of her shoes.

“Come on.” She said, storming past him. He exchanged a look with Sid, before turning to follow her, his still wet jeans making a squishing sound when he walked.

Buffy stormed silently through the night, Spike and Sid right behind her. When the Magic Box came into sight, she moved quicker, her heart slamming in her chest at the thought of finding another girl. Pulling out her key, she twisted it in the lock, nearly snapping it in her haste to get inside. Spike grabbed her arm before she could go through the door, pushing her behind him and entering first. She rolled her eyes at his show of macho, and followed him in, nearly getting tripped by Sid in the process.

Walking into the main part of the store, Spike shifted into his demon form, to see more clearly. The smell hit him as soon she opened the door, which was why he pushed her out of the way. He knew, that she could take care of herself, but the need to protect pushed that from his mind. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so he started to move towards the training room. His foot hit something, sending it skidding across the floor with a clatter. His yellow eyes picked out the tell tale shape of the spike, and he exchanged a glance with Buffy.

“Training room.” she whispered, moving in that direction. Sid’s nails clicked against the tile as they made there way into the back. When he started to growl, Spike grabbed her again.

“Wait here.” he hissed, staring at her for a long minute before letting her go and disappearing into the back room. For once, Buffy listened, folding her arms across her chest as she waited for him to return. Sid sat next to her, ears perked, listening. Buffy looked around the room, searching for any sign that the nut was still in the building. But, she didn’t have Spike’s super sense of smell, or his enhanced night vision, so all she could see was the outline of the furniture, books, and magical stuff. Her Slayer self was screaming at her for just standing there and letting Spike do all the investigating. But, the girl part, the part that was terrified, stood and waited for him to return. She had a feeling that she didn’t really want to know what was waiting for her in the training room. That feeling tripled when she saw the vampire moving back towards her, a piece of cloth grasped in his hand, a look of sympathy on his face.

“Oh, god.” she whispered, when she recognized the material. Her numb fingers reached out to close around the soft flannel. Tears slid silently down her face as she held it up to her face, breathing in the familiar scent as well as the tinny smell of blood. Her eyes met Spike’s in the dark, as she searched for confirmation.

“Xander.” Spike solemnly nodded his head, his heart wrenching at the stark grief in her eyes.

“That’s not all, luv.” he told her, holding out his hand to take hers. Her fingers were colder than his as he led her into the room. Buffy stood in the middle of the room, clutching the shirt as if it were a lifeline, as her wide eyes scanned around the room. On every available inch of wall space, there was a picture. Black and whites, Polaroids, and even computer images. Pictures of Willow and Tara as they were leaving class, smiles on their faces. Pictures of Anya and Xander, looking happy and in love. Pictures of Spike, stalking through the cemetery in search of something to kill. Even one of Giles and Spike caught unawares outside the Magic Box, sharing an infrequent moment of camaraderie. Images from her room, of her sleeping. Pictures of her pleasuring herself. Changing her clothes. Sleeping with Sid laying next to the bed. And even further back. Pictures of her and Dawn laughing about something. Willow and Tara sitting on the bed with her while they talked.

Buffy turned in a slow circle to see the images that were overlapping each other. Hundreds of pictures of her life, of her friends. Evidence that her life had been invaded over loaded her mind until she felt sick and light headed. But then, her eyes found the real gift that had been left for her.

There, in the corner, by the practice dummy, hung the girl. There was nothing ritualistic about her death, nothing symbolic. She was just completely and utterly decimated. She had been strung up with some sort of wire, and her arms and legs were stretched out taut from her body. Her throat had been ripped out, and her blood drained from the savage wound, as well as the many others littering her frame, to pool thick and black on the mats below her. He had attacked her with the ferocity of an animal, leaving nothing behind that resembled the girl she was.

Buffy felt like the room was closing in, and she heard her own blood rushing in her ears. Her heart could have jumped out of her chest it was pounding so hard. Suddenly, the floor was rushing up to meet her, and blackness clouded her eyes. Spike caught her as she fainted.

~*~*~

“Miss Summers, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you or your friends?” The Officer asked, for what seemed to Buffy, the hundredth time. She shook her head numbly, one hand still fisted tight in her lap, the other resting on the soft fur of Sid’s scarred head. The dog hadn’t left her side since Spike left, obeying the command to keep her safe. They had both decided that he should leave, since the questioning could take longer than he had left in nighttime hours, and neither wanted to explain why he would have to leave through the sewers once they were let go. He stayed until the cop cars pulled up, then brushed a kiss across her mouth. The look on her face had him nearly saying sod the day, but, she had insisted.

“Be there when I get home.” Was all she said, and she shooed him into the basement, then turned to let the police in. He had taken the pictures from her room with him, since she hadn’t wanted the police to go to the house and find all her Slaying equipment in search of the camera. They had taken the shirt from her immediately, as well as all the remaining pictures. She had answered questions as to who they all were, and WHERE they all were, over and over until she thought she would scream. No, she didn’t have any idea who would want to hurt her. (No one human, anyway.) No, she didn’t have any way to contact Willow and Tara. Yes, she could contact the owner of the store. He was in England. She could try to call Xander and Anya. No, she hadn’t heard from anybody but her sister since they all left. Yes, Spike was still in town. Yes, she knew how to contact him. No, she didn’t know either of the girls. The room in the back was used for training. She was really into self defense.

Round an round they went, until Buffy just answered, not really listening any more. Finally, after the coroner had come, and the police had taken pictures, the body had been taken from the store. She stared in wide eyed horror as the black encased figure was wheeled away. The Officer watched her, noticing that she’d had enough. With a sigh, he closed his book, the offered her a ride home. She nodded once again, her throat unable to form words around the lump that had developed in her throat. With a snap of her fingers, she called to Sid, and they followed the officer out into the air of the early morning.

~*~*~

As soon as she and Sid were through the front door, Buffy was enveloped in a pair of cool, strong arms. She nuzzled her face against his chest, taking comfort in the smell of soap, fresh laundry, and Spike. She was unaware of the hot tears that coursed down her face, soaking the front of his borrowed t-shirt.

“It’s okay, pet. Just let it out.” He murmured, running his hands over her back.

“I hate this.” She hissed, her voice muffled.

“I know.” He brought his hands up to cup her face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “You need to call Giles.” She nodded her head, leaning up to kiss him. She thought briefly over how quickly it had become so easy to touch him, to accept his touch. “Come upstairs when you’re done.” he told her, moving away to give her privacy. She watched him trot up the stairs in a pair of her father’s old sweats and one of her too big shirts, a hint of a smile playing across her lips.

Scrubbing a hand over her face, she walked into the kitchen to call Giles.

~*~*~

She listened as the front door slammed shut. He had been gone a long time this outing, and a part of her had hoped that he would forget about her and not come back. But, the tiny part of her that still wanted to survive, was terrified of the agony of starving to death, despite the pain and torture that followed his returning.

She heard his muffled curses as he stormed towards the bedroom. She closed her eyes as he entered, blood staining his clothes and skin. He hadn’t brought this one home, she thanked the Gods. She would have surely lost her mind if she had been forced to watch him play with her.

She listened as he stalked through the bedroom, heading towards the bathroom. Letting out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding, she opened her eyes. She knew that she’d only have a short reprieve. Once he was done, e would use her again, screaming Buffy’s name as he came. It didn’t matter, she thought. She didn’t feel anything anymore when he did it. She was numb, and she didn’t know if that wasn’t worse than feeling everything.

~*~*~

Buffy wiped fresh tears away as she hung up the phone. Giles would be home tomorrow, as long as he could get a flight out within the next couple of hours. Relief flooded her at that. Having Spike only eased the terror, marginally, and that was just because the mut job had it out for him as much as for her. Giles would come home, take over, and they would find out who was doing this.

Picking up the phone, she dialed the number that Anya had given her, ‘just in case of apocalypse.’ After six rings, and no apparent answering machine, Buffy hung up. She stood, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, on hand still on the phone. Without stopping to question her actions, she picked it up again. Dialing quickly, she held her breath while it rang.

When Cordelia’s voice came over the line, Buffy opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it again when she realized it was the machine. Fidgeting impatiently, she waited for the beep, then spoke quickly. She asked Cordy to check up on the construction company that Xander had said hired him, and also the Wiccan group that Willow and Tara were with. Hanging up the phone, she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, then turned to leave the kitchen.

Only to be confronted with the raised scarred eyebrow of Spike.

“What?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Checking on Angelus. ”It wasn’t a question. She scowled at how easily he could read her.

“No.” she spat, raising her chin.

“Oh, come on. You could have rang information for those numbers.” He told her, chuckling when she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t considered it.” She grumbled, brushing past him.

“Actually, I hadn’t’.” Her eyes were shocked when she looked at him. “It doesn’t ‘smell’ like him.” He stated simply, taking her hand as he moved past her, drawing her to the stairs.

“You can SMELL him?”

“Yeah. Vampire.” he reminded her. She nodded.

“Does it. . .” he stopped on the top stair when she faltered for words. His blue eyes met hers, waiting for her to finish. Taking a deep breath, she did. “Is it someone we know?” she asked on a rush. He hesitated a moment before answering her.

“I dunno.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“Exactly what I said. There’s something. . .changing it.”

“What?” her voice trembled again, and she hated herself for it. Disgusted, she firmed her chin up and looked at him, waiting for his answer.

“It’s like, they know it can be recognized, and they’re doing something to change it. If I could pin it down, the problem would have already been taken care of.” She shivered at the cold menace in his tone, the flash of yellow in his eyes reminding her just what he was. He watched for her reaction, recognizing acceptance as it settled over her features. If it was someone she knew, she would deal with it. Standing before him was the woman who had sent Angel to hell. He nodded once in approval, than took her hand once again.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he pulled her past her bedroom. Even though she shuddered to go back in, knowing about the camera hiding in there.

He didn’t answer her, just led her to the open bathroom door. A gasp escaped her lips as she took in the room.

Candles lined the back of the sink, and the top of the toilet, there soft light casting shadows on the walls. The tub was filled with steaming water, and frothing bubbles. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon filled the air. She looked over at him, seeing the open look love and concern, and felt herself topple over the edge she hadn’t realized she had been balancing on.

“Spike. . .” He silenced her with a finger over her lips, then led her over to the tub. Cool hands slid over her arms, causing her to shiver.

“Just forget, for awhile, baby.” He told her, his voice a silky whisper. She nodded, entranced by the look in his eyes, the tone of his words, and the feather light touch of his fingers across her skin. He reached one hand up an pulled the clip from her hair, causing it to fall in a golden waves across her shoulders. He dipped his head, to capture her bottom lip between his teeth, gently nibbling on it as his hands reached for the hem of her shirt. He pushed his hands under that material, sliding them across her warm skin, pushing her shirt up in the process. He never stopped the soft exploration of her mouth until he went to draw the shirt over her head. She raised her arms dutifully, her eyes wide and dark with desire. Heat coursed over her at his gentle handling of her, and she just stood, turning herself over to his whim. Dropping the material to the floor, he returned his hands to her skin, his mouth to hers. His tongue traced the outline of her lips, before dipping inside to tease. Her fingers fisted at her side, and she hissed in air before lazily rolling her tongue across his. She trembled when she felt his fingers brush over the clasp to her jeans, yanking a bit until it opened, the zipper pulling free. He slid his hands around her waist, pushing them in the back of her jeans, and kneading the globes of her buttocks.

Feeling her knees weaken, she raised her hands to grip his shoulders, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She sucked on his tongue, delighting in the growl that filled her. He pushed the denim over her hips, pulling away from her to kneel at her feet. She looked at the top of his white head, dutifully lifting her legs at his urging so he could divest her of the rest of her clothes. When she was finally naked before him, he stood, his midnight colored eyes memorizing every golden curve. She felt herself flush at the naked look of longing in his azure depths. Her nipples pebbled under the intensity of his stare, and she felt a fresh wave of arousal suffuse her. He reached out a hand to her, waiting for her to take it. When her trembling fingers wrapped around his, he turned to help her into the bath.

She sighed as she sank into the warmth of the water, feeling a flash of guilt as the tension began to drain from her,

“None of that, sweetness.” he told her, pulling his shirt over his head and kneeling beside the tub. “You have to live, despite what that bastard wants. Just feel for awhile. Don’t worry about anything. Let me take care of you.” He said, grabbing a washcloth and soaping it up. His words washed over her, as warm and enticing as the water. She nodded, sighing once again when he brought the rough material to her shoulder. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the feel of him washing her. She arched into him when he brushed to terry cloth across her tingling nipples, feeling the answering tingle begin in her sex. Little bolts of electricity darted along her skin wherever he touched, and she unconsciously started to mewl. While he washed her arms and shoulders, he reigned kisses across her face, her eyelids and the place where her shoulder and neck curved together.

“God, Spike.” She breathed, when he reached beneath the water to brush the washcloth against her core. Her knees fell open to give him better access, her breath hitching as the rough material grazed over her clit. Her eyes snapped open when the feel of the cloth was replaced by his clever fingers. Her eyes clashed with his as he explored the soft flesh of her cunt, his face a study of concentration as he sought to bring her pleasure. She shuddered when he pushed one, then two fingers into her slick heat, slowing pumping them into her while his thumb circled the hardened nubbin of nerves. Her hips shifted against his hand, her blood singing with fire as he brought her to a slow, tortuous orgasm. His name fell from her lips as the waves broke over her, her back arching towards him. She gasped when he captured on wet, rosy nipple in his mouth, his blunt teeth gently scraping. She exploded with the added sensation, her inner muscles clenching around his probing fingers.

She moaned in protest when he pulled away from her, and she opened her eyes to look up at him.

“Dunk your head, luv.” he told her, holding up a bottle of shampoo. Buffy did what he asked, despite the utter lack of wanting to move. He smiled at her when she reemerged from the water, than began to wash her hair, his strong fingers massaging her scalp and making her shiver all over again. She marveled at the tenderness he was showing her, having a hard time reconciling it with his usual cockiness and swagger. “Dunk again.” he said, rinsing the soap from his hands as she did so. Once she came back up, he helped her stand, and started to dry the moisture from her body, then bundled her into her robe. He urged her to sit on the toilet and combed her hair until her scalp was tingling, and her hair was dry. Then, he pulled her up, blowing out the candles before taking her hand once more. She looked at him quizzically when he led her into her mother’s room. Sid raised his head to look at them when they entered, then rested his head back on the floor.

“Don’t want an audience, pet.” He told her, his voice thick with need.

“Thank you.” she said, not really knowing what she said it for. A smile curved his lips, and he pulled her to him, leaning in to kiss her once again. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers playing with the soft ends of his hair as their tongues danced. He pushed her robe opened, banding his arms around her waist to crush her warm breasts against his hard, cool chest. Buffy felt the evidence of his arousal hard and long against her stomach, and she started to rub against him. He moaned into her mouth, picking her up and carrying her to the bed. He laid her on it, using one hand to brace them as he continued to devour her lips. The kiss had turned from gentle to hungry, teasing to possessive. He ground his cock into her cunt, the feel of her heat nearly doing him in right then. She thrust up to meet him, needing to feel him in her, filling her. She tore away from his mouth, her gasping words breaking his hold on his control.

“Please, Spike. I need you inside me.” She whispered urgently in his ear. He crushed his mouth against hers again, reaching down with one had to free himself from the sweat pants. She reached down to help, and soon he was loose the tip brushing along her dripping slit. With a twist of his hips he was inside of her, his growl lost in the hot cavern of her mouth, her moan drowned out by his growl.

Her heat surrounded him, burning him. Making him shiver with it’s intensity.

He was so cold, it was like being impaled on ice, and Buffy couldn’t remember anything feeling so good. She quickly became impatient with his stillness, a desperate need to feel his icy shaft sliding in and out of her caused her to thrust up, demanding friction. He ripped his mouth away from hers to watch her as he began to thrust, his strokes long and slow, quickening at her urging. Fire ran through them as their hips moved in unison. Each plunge brought his pelvic bone in contact with her aching clit, sending little darts of bliss across her nerve endings.

“Oh god, Spike. Yes. Please, so good. Harder.” She mumbled against the skin of his neck, where she currently nibbling and licking. Her wish was his command and he pumped harder, sliding a hand under her ass to angle her up, pushing himself deeper. Her scream filled the air when the tip of his cock hit er inner sensitive spot. Her muscles clamped hard around him, sending him spiraling into his own climax. Her nails dug ruthlessly into his back as she rode the tremors out. He slammed into her once, twice, on the third time he pushed himself to the hilt. With a hoarse cry of her name, her collapsed against her, his icy seed shooting deep into her womb.

“God, I love you.” he whispered, his unneeded breath coming in heaving gasps. Buffy trailed on hand through his hair, the other lovingly down his back. His words washed over her, cleansing the sickness that had been her companion since he handed her that shirt. His weight felt comfortable on top of her, his amazingly still hard shaft felt wonderful buried deep within her.

God, she could get used to this. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, and began to slowly rock against him. Angel had been so large, dwarfing her with his size. Riley was the same, and his heat was immense. She nearly felt smothered each time they made love. Parker. . .well, there was no need to even compare him. Not when Spike was nestled so perfectly between her thighs, his hips thrusting lazily into her. And his tongue and lips were doing amazing things to her nipples.

There was no need to hurry this time, now that the first initial shock of lust had been sated. Now was the time for exploring, discovering. Their hips never ceased in motion as wet mouths, rough tongues and hands conquered every inch of skin they encountered. Soft gasps and moans, as well as the occasional growl from Spike, suffused the room, wrapping them in a sensual cocoon that blocked out everything, save each other.

Over and over they brought each other to the precipice, dangling dangerously close to the edge, only to pause. Breathe. Calm. Finally, it would be held off no longer and suddenly they were floating on a sea of bright colors, tastes and textures. And when Spike grazed a fang along the curve of her breast, his cool, wet tongue lapping the blood, Buffy screamed his name, the final wave crashing over her.

Spike shuddered as the taste of her warm, sweet essence flowed over his tongue. He buried himself as deep as he could. His now thoroughly warmed body pulsing deep inside her. He knew, that right now, with her warmth flowing around him, through him. . .this was the closest to heaven he would ever get.

If the devil saw fit to take him now, Spike would go willingly. Nothing in Hell would ever be able to take this away from him. With a contented purr, he rolled to his side. Gathering her tiny form against him, the rumbling in his chest soothing them both into a content and thankfully dreamless sleep.

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