Stalk Her (continued)

Chapter Ten

Buffy rolled over and snuggled deeper under the comforter in her mother’s bed. One hand slid across the cool sheets, in search of Spike. When all she encountered was empty space, she opened her eyes to peer at the uninhabited side of the bed.

“Spike?” she mumbled sleepily, pushing up in her elbows to peer around the room. The late afternoon sun filtered around the closed curtain, bathing the room in its soft light. She found herself looking for dust piles before her sleep addled brain caught up with the fact that there wasn’t enough light coming in to kill him. It was then that she heard a faint banging sound, and she rolled over to search for her robe.

She found it pooled at the foot of the bed, and wondered momentarily about when he pulled it off of her. Her tired, sated body screamed in protest at the movement. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the bed and sleep the rest of the day away, but she wanted Spike there with her. So, with that mission in mind, she pulled the sash of her robe tight and walked into the hall. She turned in the direction the banging was coming from, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Sid brushed past her.

“Stupid dog.” She muttered, rolling her eyes and following the retriever into her bedroom. What she saw would have made her angry had it not had her laughing first. Spike stood in the middle of her bed, a screwdriver in one hand, and a hammer in the other. His long arms were stretched over his head as he pounded holes through the ceiling. A fine white sheen of drywall dust coated his arms, chest and hair, and a stream of colorful curses were falling from his mouth.

“Spike? Why are you breaking my house?” She asked, leaning against the door frame and crossing her arms over her chest. He glanced at her over her shoulder before returning to his work.

“Looking for the bloody camera.” he told her. “FUCK!” he spat, when he missed the end of the screwdriver and nailed his thumb instead. A shiver ran over her skin at the mention of the device.

“I guess no luck.” She said, walking over to look at the hand he was holding. He had hit himself pretty hard, and a lovely bruise was already forming on his alabaster skin. He dropped down on his knees to the bed, hissing when she tapped the bruise.

“No. Hey, be careful.” She arched a brow at him, and stuck her tongue in her cheek.

“This coming from the man that had a Hell God’s fingers poking around his insides?” He looked at her, scarred eyebrow raised.

“Humph. Seems to me I at least got a kiss after that bit of trauma.” He mock snarled. Her grin was wide as she leaned in and brushed her lips over his.

“My hero.” she sing songed when she pulled away. Spike snorted at her, then raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You’re going to fix those.” she told him when she saw just how many holes he had drilled. At least thirty were spread in a circular pattern around her bed. He offered her a smirk, before tossing the screwdriver and hammer down to the floor. Sid’s head popped up when they landed not a foot from him. He growled at the offending items before plopping his head back down and closing his eyes. Spike chuckled and Buffy rolled her eyes before slipping her arms around the vampires neck, oblivious to the dust covering him. He looked so good kneeling on her bed, all sleep tousled and manly.

“Pet, what about the camera?” He asked when he recognized the desire in her eyes. She gave him a wicked grin and threaded her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t mind if you don’t. Let’s really give him an eyeful.” She whispered as her lips descended on his. He wasted no time in pulling open the robe once again, then crushing her warmth against him. Their tongues battled mercilessly as he turned them to lay her on the bed. Neither cared about the dust mingling on their bodies and mouths. He pulled away briefly to get the robe completely off her, then leaned in to capture a nipple in his mouth. She arched into him as he rolled the sensitive peak over his tongue, his blunt teeth biting just to the point of pain.

“Oh, god.” she moaned, her fingers in his hair pressing him more firmly against her flesh. Her feet came up to rub against the backs of his thighs and over the firm swell of his buttocks. Heat suffused her as his mouth moved across her sweat slicked skin to the other breast, repeating his ministrations there. His finger danced over her skin, his cool touch sending electricity to every nerve. She writhed helplessly beneath him, gasping when he trailed his tongue down her torso, dipping playfully into her belly button, then further down to the soft curls of her sex. He paused there, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her arousal, his eyes nearly black with need. She watched him through hooded eyes, her entire body anticipating what she knew he was about to do. She pulled her knees up, opening herself up for him. He slid his hands along her splayed thighs, hooking his arms around them to pull them apart wider.

“What do you want, Buffy?” He asked, his lust thickened voice causing her pulse to race. He gently blew on her overheated sex, causing her to jump towards his mouth.

“Please, Spike.” She begged, her hands fisting on the bed. She was thrashing on the bed, and he hadn’t even touched his deliciously cool tongue to her sizzling cunt. Wetness seeped out of her as he did it again.

“Please what?” he asked once more, wanting her to say it.

“Please, devour me.” And that’s what he did. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Spike lowered his head to her flesh. His tongue invaded her folds, licking up the slit to collect the moisture pooled there, before circling the hard nubbin of flesh at the top. Buffy’s hips thrust up to meet him, her hands running mindlessly over his shoulders and her own thighs. When her fingers brushed against his, they linked, and she found herself pinned, completely at his mercy.

He kept his eyes on her face as his tongue slid inside of her, her juices spilling over his tongue once more. Sweat broke out across her skin once more, and the feel of his cool lips and tongue moved over her dripping channel. Gasps and moans escaped her as every pass of his mouth sent icy shivers cascading through her.

“Oh, God.” she moaned when he stiffened his tongue and attacked her clit, her hips crashing up to push him further into her mound. “Oh god, yes, yesyesyesyes.” she mumbled, as bright lights shimmered behind her eyes. She broke her hands free from his and buried them in his hair, pressing him even more closely to her. “Oh God, SPIKE!” She screamed as she fell fully over the edge, her entire body spasming with her orgasm. He pulled her hands from his hair and streaked up her body, one hand pushing his sweats down. He crushed his mouth against hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth in the same instant that he thrust deeply into her still convulsing heat. She sucked greedily on his tongue, tasting herself as well as Taste of Spike, and the combination flooded her with desire once more. She wrapped her legs around his hips in an effort to draw him deeper, to have him fill her more completely. He hooked his arms around her knees, bracing his hands on the bed and ripped his mouth away from hers. This new angle had him hitting her g spot, and before she knew it, she was rocketing over the edge again, the slight sting of his fangs in her neck only intensifying the sensation. She shrieked his name once more as the powerful climax swept her away.

Spike growled against her neck as he felt her walls clamp around him. Her blood swam over his tongue, filling him with her warmth and power, and he felt his sac tighten in the seconds before he himself followed her over with a roar of her name. He pushed himself as far into her as he could, every muscle rigid as his shaft pulsed his cold seed into her, cooling her from the inside out. He retracted his fangs from her neck, licking the twin punctures until the bleeding stopped.

He raised his head then, to look deep into her eyes.

“I love you, Buffy.” He whispered, brushing his mouth against hers. She pulled away, a smile on her lips.

“I love you, too.” Tears sprang to her eyes at the look of pure wonderment that softened his face. Then, the first true grin that she had ever seen on him, one borne of happiness, split his features. With a bark of laughter, he descended on her again, kissing her breathless.

~*~*~

With a howl of rage, Jesse slammed his fist into the wall. Bone cracked and blood spilled, but he didn’t care. Pain was good. Pain whited out the image of her fucking that dead thing from his mind. Pain washed away the sound of her screaming ITS name in release, and the soft sound of her declaration of love.

Pain shattered the last frozen vestiges that she was anything but a whore. A no good useless slut, just like every other woman he’d ever known, starting with his mother and ending with her. How stupid he had been, pinning all his hopes on her. He should have known, the first time she took one of those creatures into her bed that she was worthless. But he had been blinded by his love for her. Blinded by the sanctity of her calling.

To think that he had been ready to forgive her, that he was already feeling guilty for leaving that shirt to torment her with. He had just wanted her to feel at least a tiny bit of the anguish that he was feeling. He felt sick with the knowledge that she had fooled him.

Tears coursed unheeded down his face as he ripped the room apart. The woman on the bed struggled not to jump at the noise, hoping that is she stayed still enough, he wouldn’t take his rage out on her. She had been caught between horror and happiness when she saw what was occuring in Buffy’s bedroom. On the one hand, it was good for the two wrapped in the throes of passion. On the other, it was going to be bad for all involved, now that he had seen it. Now that he had to deal with the fact that she wasn’t perfect.

The sounds of glass breaking and furniture smashing filled her ears, causing her numbness to retreat. She felt everything again, the burn of her injuries, the hunger in her belly from not being fed enough. The stickiness of her skin, and the greasiness of her hair. But, worst of all, she felt the huge hole in her heart growing larger with each strike of his fist against the wall, the furniture. Nothing was safe from his ire, and she could only pray that he would finally end her life. She decided that the numbness was better.

~*~*~

Spike strolled happily through the cemetery, his senses looking for anything worth slaying, even though he didn’t expect to find anything. Demons were notorious for going underground once a human killer invaded their town. It was one thing to get slain for something you did. It was a totally different thing to get killed for the work of a human. He found himself thinking of New York during the Summer of Sam. He himself had hightailed it out of there once the word that a serial killer was stalking the streets had made it back to him and Dru.

Hopping up onto a headstone, Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it, thinking back to the truly glorious day he had spent with Buffy. He still couldn’t get over the fact that she had said that she loved him. More than once. Every time it had fallen from his lips, she had returned it, a look of happiness making her beauty shine brighter.

After the tryst in her room, they had gone to shower off the dry wall dust, not making it out of there until the water ran cold. Then, Buffy’s stomach had started to grumble, and they had gone down to the kitchen to eat. Of course, Spike didn’t think either of them would ever be able to look at the kitchen table quite the same again. A smile curved his lips as he thought of all the wonderfully wicked things that could be done with strawberry preserves. Through it all, Sid had trotted behind them, ever diligent in his quest to protect his adopted owners.

They had been interrupted from their erotic play twice. The first time, when Dawn called. Buffy had listened to her sister gush about the beach, assuring that she was fine. He saw the relief on her face that Dawn was out having fun in the sun with her friends, and not in Sunnydale, worrying about being the next one to die.

The second time was Giles, calling from New York during his layover to tell her when his flight would be in. She had spent the entire conversation with the Watcher trying to evade Spike’s wandering hands, and failing miserably. She had practically hung up on Giles in order to tackle Spike to the floor and ride him into unconsciousness. They had taken the whole day learning everything about each other, and Spike couldn’t remember a day better spent.

But, once the time for Giles to arrive closed in, Buffy convinced him to leave. Not because she was ashamed of her relationship with him. It was just that she wanted to have time to talk to him, about everything. She had stressed that, telling him that she was going to let the Watcher know. He had agreed with her, not leaving until Giles’ taxi had pulled up outside. Then, he had slipped out the back, telling Sid to stay put. The dog had cocked his head, his want to go hunting with his master evident. However, he just laid back down on the kitchen floor, his head propped on his paws as he watched them kiss goodbye.

So, this is how Spike came to be patrolling the cemetery that was actually as dead as it was supposed to be. Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he flung it away then stood to start walking again. Maybe he’d swing by the crypt and see if the cops had damaged anything. He wasn’t worried about being caught by them, he would be able to get away with no problem.

As he got closer to his part of the cemetery, a familiar scent wafted to his nose. Cursing loudly, he stalked through the night, following it. Dread began to work it’s way through him when he realized that he recognized it. Rounding the side of his crypt, he walked past the taped off crime scene and into the bank of trees surrounding the home of the dead. He was sure that if his heart could beat, it would be tap dancing out of his chest as the smell became stronger. Blood. Familiar blood.

He shifted into game face, as soon as the darkness of the woods enveloped him. About thirty yards in, he saw her, her too thin body illuminated from the moon filtering through the trees. He quickly trotted over to her, the combination of blood, sweat and filth assailing him. He breathed a sigh of relief when the sound of her heart reached his ears. It was faint, but it was there.

Kneeling down next to her unmoving form, he reached out and gripped her shoulder, rolling her onto her back. He was struck by how gaunt her once beautiful features were. Cuts and abrasions marred her skin and the smell of sex wafted from her to mingle with the other stench. He gingerly reached out to brush a strand of grimy hair away from her forehead.

“My God, Anya. What happened?”

~*~*~

Giles sat in Buffy’s couch, a mug of tea clutched in hand. He had been sitting there, quietly listening to her tale, a look of equal parts fear, disbelief and astonishment firmly set on his face. His heart was hurting for those poor girls, as well as his Slayer. Guilt poured off of her in waves, and he could see that blamed herself for the actions of a mad man. This disturbed him more than her quiet admission about Spike. As much as he didn’t like it, some part of him had always known that the vampire and the Slayer would find their way to each other. Buffy had just been to adamant in her hate of him.

“Buffy, you mustn’t feel that you are responsible.” He told her when she was finished.

“How else am I supposed to feel? He’s killed these girls because they look like me. He’s broken into my house, taken pictures of my family and friends. And, he may have killed Xander.” Buffy said. She paused in her pacing to look at him, her earlier look of happiness stripped from her features. She smiled faintly at the distant bark she heard from the kitchen. Sid hadn’t taken to Giles very well, and Buffy didn’t have the patience to deal with a growling dog while she was trying to talk, so, she had put him in the basement. Something he wasn’t very happy about.

“Yes, I understand that. But, you can’t not be held culpable for the actions of a crazed man. He needs help and that is not your fault. It’s not really that hard to recognize why he would become fixated on you. However, that does not make it your fault.” He stressed, placing his mug on the coffee table and stepping over to her. He took her hands in his, worry filling him as he looked at the daughter he never had. “Please, stop blaming yourself.” he implored.

“Spike said the same thing.” She said, squeezing his fingers in hers.

“For once, and I don’t believe that I am saying this, I agree with him.” They both chuckled a bit at that. She stunned him when she leaned into him for a hug, but he wrapped her in his arms and held her. Tears fell from her eyes to dampen his shirt, relief flooding through her that he was here. She always felt a little lost when he wasn’t around, and now that he was back, she felt as safe as she did with Spike.

“Thank you.” She told him when she pulled away, sniffling a little.

“For what?” He asked, a bit flustered.

“For being you.” She said with a smile. The moment was broken by a sharp knock sounding against the door. A frown marred Buffy’s brow as she moved to answer it. It wouldn’t be Spike. He wasn’t supposed to be coming back until she called him. “Who is it?” The voice that answered her had her flipping the lock and pulling back the chains with a quickness. As soon as she pulled the door open, she flung herself through and into a pair of wide spread arms, not hearing the wild barking of the dog trapped in the basement.

Chapter Eleven

Spike looked down at the unconscious girl, his mind trying to suss out what to do. Her heartbeat, although faint, was strong, and she wasn't in any danger of dying as far as he could tell. With a curse, he shrugged off his duster, then as gently as could, maneuvered her arms into the leather. Pulling it closed over her naked form, he gathered her in his arms and stood to start making his way though the night. He would take her back to the house. He had a feeling that Anya would appreciate Buffy's female presence when she finally woke up.

Moving quickly through the night, he avoided the brightly lit areas, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It took him longer, but he arrived at Buffy's house undetained. Slipping quietly through the backyard, he was struck with a sudden sense of foreboding. Nothing seemed amiss from his view of the back porch. But, he quickened his steps, trying not to jostle Anya too much, as he opened the kitchen door. The first thing he noticed when he stepped through was the basement door. It was flung wide open, the wood cracked on the inside, as if something had thrown itself against it to get out.

"BUFFY!" he called, moving through to the dining room. The smell of blood hit him, and panic blossomed in his chest. "GILES!" he barked. As soon as he rounded the corner, he stopped dead. "Shit."

Sid lay on the floor in front of the slightly open front door, a dart imbedded in his side. There was blood on his muzzle, so at least he got a bite out of whoever came in. Beyond him, in the wreck of the living room, and lying face down in the carpet, was the Watcher. Stepping quickly around the still breathing dog, he advanced on the man that could give him answers. Placing Anya on the couch, he moved to roughly shake Giles.

"GILES!" Spike called, seeing the thin line of blood trailing from underneath his hair and down his neck. "RUPERT!" Fear clawed around in his belly, and he shook the prone man with barely restrained violence. Finally, a pained moan erupted from Giles as he slowly regained consciousness.

"Buffy?" he gasped, trying to raise his head.

"She's not here. Want to tell me what happened?" Spike asked through clenched teeth.

"Spike?" Giles tried to push himself up, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. Spike reached out and caught him before he could collapse again and helped him into a sitting position. He watched as Giles' eyes struggled to focus, his hand moving up to adjust his glasses that weren't there. His hazy eyes moved from the tense face of the vampire to the woman on the couch. His eyes widened comically when he recognized her. "Anya? God, what happened to her?" He rasped, flinching at the pain talking induced.

"I found her in the woods. What happened here?" Giles looked at Spike once more, horror filling his expression as lights started to go on in his brain.

"Oh, dear lord." Spike was swiftly losing his patience, and he struggled no to grab the Watcher and shake him until the words started falling from his mouth. Giles seemed to notice the vampire's agitation, because he finally started to speak. "B-Buffy and I were, er, talking, and then she went to answer the, er, door. She asked who it was. I didn't hear who answered, but she started hurrying to get the door open. Your dog was . . .trying to get out of the basement, I gather, from all the noise he was making. Then, the phone started ringing, and it all got very confusing from there."

Spike listened as the Watcher continued, shock and rage causing his borrowed blood to boil. When Giles was done, he rose to his feet, walked to the weapons chest, and chose a knife. Pulling it out of the sheath, he tested the blade of the wicked looking instrument, satisfied that it was sharp. Standing, he tucked it into the waist of his jeans at his back.

"Take care of Anya" he told Giles, starting out of the room.

"Spike." Anya's soft voice had him stop and go towards the couch.

"Yeah, pet?" he asked quietly, kneeling down to look at her. She whispered to him, and Spike had to strain to hear her. When she was done, her eyes drifted closed again, her energy spent. An evil smile curled his lip, and Giles felt a tremor of fear. Bloodlust sparked in Spike for the first time in forever, but this was special. This was for one person and one person only. Rising again, he walked out of the living room, pausing only to check on the fallen dog. Spike pulled the dart out Sid's hide and ran a hand over his scarred head.

"Spike, he's insane." Giles said from his position at the living room entrance.

"Don't worry about me. Take care of her," he said, then in a flurry of motion, he was out the door.

~*~*~

Consciousness came roaring back to Buffy in a wave of pain. Nausea threatened in the pit of her stomach, but she forced it back, trying to get her bearings. Memories surfaced as the haze of the drug receded, and she struggled to remain relaxed. She wasn't ready to face the nightmare that awaited her when she opened her eyes.

She had been so happy when she had heard his voice. Without thought, she had thrown open the door, and rushed into his embrace. She hadn't noticed the differences about him, the coldness of the smile. The iciness of his eyes. The slight stiffening of his body when she had hugged him. It wasn't until after she had pulled him inside, that Sid's barking had registered.

She had left him with Giles to go attempt to calm the dog, hoping he hadn't destroyed her door. The phone started to ring, but she ignored it, wanting to deal with Sid first. When Cordelia's voice had come over the answering machine, her voice laced with a touch of worry, her words caused a wave of disbelief to almost cripple her.

*No, it can't be* she had told herself, the dog forgotten as she turned to go back to the living room. The cracking of the basement door coincided with the sound of Giles' body crashing through the coffee table. The smile that she encountered turned her insides to ice. Sid pushed passed her, a bundle of canine fury to launch at the man. His blunt, worn teeth tore into the flesh of the arm he had raised to ward off the animal.

Buffy screamed before she realized that the gun he had pulled out sent a dart, not a bullet into the dog's flesh. Blood poured from the wound in his arm, as Sid slumped to the floor. His large, brown eyes settled on her before they drifted closed.

"No," Buffy denied, tearing her horrified eyes away from the dog, only to see the gun aimed at her. Snapping herself out of her daze, she rushed him, landing one punch before the affects of the dart knocked her out.

And now, if her drug addled senses were right, she was tied, spread eagle to a bed, naked. Tears leaked from her eyes, an image of Spike pushing through her fear and heartbreak. She hoped to God that he didn't come looking for her. The man moving around the room would kill him, or worse. The man that she had trusted. The man that had been her friend.

Xander.

~*~*~

Xander stalked around the room, preparing the trap for the vampire. He knew Spike would come. He'd left him an invitation after all. Whistling lightly through his teeth, he attached the wire to the trigger of the crossbow, making sure that it would pull tight when the door was opened. He'd also taken care of the possibility of Spike sneaking in on him. He'd dressed every window and the sliding glass door with garlic. The only way in for the vampire was the front door, and wouldn't he get a surprise. Studying his handiwork, he gave a satisfied sigh and went to go check on the Slayer.

He frowned when he saw that she was still out. He was sure that he hadn't overdosed her. The drug was strong, but the amount he had put on the tip of the dart should have only had her out for about thirty minutes. It wouldn't be fun to kill Spike if she wasn't awake for the festivities. Deciding that she must be playing possum, he moved to the dresser. The sing of metal reverberated through the room as Xander unsheathed the knife that he had taken from Buffy's weapons chest. A shrill laugh escaped his throat at the thought of her dying at the end of her own weapon. He ran the pad of his thumb over the razor like steel, a contemplative look on his face when a thin welt of red surged to the surface.

"It's always about the blood." Spike had said on that fateful night they battled Glory. And he had been right. Xander's blood had been weak, before that night. It wasn't until that night, that he had realized just how much like Spike he was. The thought had truly terrified him, then, and he had clung to the image of Buffy like a child would a blanket. She had been his security, his ray of hope. His weakness. He had fought the dark that had been borne on him that night, not realizing his true power until he had let the child's view of Buffy go. Killing that last girl had been different than the others. He had been truly angry at the Slayer, and he had wielded this very knife with an acute precision. The satisfaction of the kill had been so fulfilling, once he didn't have the delusions of her being perfect anymore. He now understood what Spike had been talking about, and he couldn't believe he had been so blind.

He turned to face the girl on the bed, the heavy sound of his construction boots seeming to echo in Buffy's ears. Of all the things she had ever faced in her short existence, none had ever caused terror like this to sing in her blood. An involuntary whimper tore from her when she felt him sit on the bed. *Good job, Buff.* she cursed, inwardly. She forced herself not to move when she felt the cold, sharp tip of the knife rest against her nipple.

"Buffy?" He called, dragging the tip lazily around her peaking nipple. He watched in fascination at the tightening of the skin. He felt the responding hardness swell in his pants, and his grin was large as he looked at her. He raked his eyes over the golden limbs that he had spent so many nights fantasizing about. She was the closest thing to perfection that he had ever seen. Even more so than Anya. A frown creased his brow at the thought of the former vengeance demon. *What was taking Spike so long?* he thought, slowly dragging the knife across the valley between Buffy's breasts.

Buffy managed to keep her breathing even as the steel moved across her skin, the cool metal a perverse mimicking of a caress.

"Come on, Buff, I know you're awake." He sneered, moving the knife down her abdomen. Her eyes snapped open when she felt it nick at the flesh of her sex, the pinprick of pain bringing tears to her eyes. Not that it really hurt, it was that fact that HE was doing it that caused the salty tracks to appear on her cheeks.

"Xander?" Even now, after everything that she had been forced to face, she couldn't keep the thread of disbelief from her voice. His smile was almost kind as he looked down at her.

"There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd runoff on me, kinda like you did when Glory got Dawn." He said, conversationally. Buffy wished that she was back in that place, because then she wouldn't have to face the fact that her best friend was insane.

"Why. . ." was all she could choke out, the drugs affects causing her throat to be raw, her voice to rasp. At least that's what she told herself.

"Why?" He asked, his eyebrows shooting up. "Why? Now, that's the million dollar question isn't it? Why, has good old Xander, done all this? Is that what you want to know?" She managed to nod her head, her eyes wide with fear at the feel of the knife teasing the curls at the apex of her thighs. "Well, you see, Buffy, it's like this. For so long, I've had you in this special place in my heart. You know, the one you can love from afar, and never have. Your were like Wonder Woman, the perfect vision of righteousness. A super hero. The Chosen One to kill vampires and stop world endage. Even when you were with Angel, it seemed noble, in a way. Vampire Slayer and vampire with a soul. Kinda poetic, almost." His voice had taken on a dream-like quality, soft and melodic as he spoke, his eyes traveling the expanse of her flesh, making sure not to dip too deep with the tip of the knife into her skin. He wanted to save most of the fun for when the vampire showed up. If the peroxided pest ever got here.

"But, I don't understand. How does your image of me turn you into a murderer?" she gasped, feeling the sharp point against her thigh. She felt the slow trickle of blood down the inside of her thigh, and she forced herself to focus on the ceiling, concentrating on his words and not the knife. Her limbs felt heavy, and she felt like a pressure was weighted in her chest. *After effects of the drug* she surmised, daring to look at him once again.

"Murderer? Now, that's a little harsh coming from a woman who spreads her legs for soulless demons, now isn't it?" Anger flared in the depths of his eyes at her accusation. Buffy was relieved to feel her own anger answering his, anything but this mind-numbing fear that had set in since she heard Cordy tell her that the construction company that Xander had said he was working for had never heard of him.

"Who are you to judge me?" She spat, hazel eyes flashing. She cried out when she felt the tip of the knife slice through her calf.

"You better remember who's tied up and who isn't. You always thought I was weak. Just funny old Xander. Good guy to be friends with, but never to be your boyfriend. I didn't actually GET it until I saw you fucking Spike. I'm a little too living for your tastes, aren't I? I mean, it really can't be the killing thing that's turning you off, considering that I haven't killed even a tenth of the people Angel and Spike have, and you pant over them, like a slut. Thought the term was Vampire Slayer, not Layer Buff." He chuckled, digging the knife a little deeper into her calf muscle, relishing the surge of power and the accompanying throb in his erection at the sound of her cry.

"Angel has a soul, and Spike's changed." She managed around the fiery pain shooting from her leg. His laugh was robust and hearty, reminding her of all the other times he had laughed like this.

"Spike's changed." He sounded incredulous. "Oh, what, I guess his love for you changed him, right? And now he's all 'noble'." He snickered at that, bringing the knife up to watch her blood slide along the blade. "God, you certainly can convince yourself of the most ridiculous things, can't you? Anything to justify fucking the dead. Who'd a thought, the Chosen one is a necrophiliac." His laugh bordered on shrill again, the sound turning maniacal as his brown eyes burned into hers.

"Fuck you," she snapped.

"Oh, NOW you offer. Sorry, not in the mood. Well, I am, but I think I'll wait until my other guest shows up. Can't have a party without the guest of honor, can we?"

"What?" her voice was barely a whisper.

"Didn't I tell you? Spike should be here any minute. Left him an engraved invitation. Of course, he might not have gotten it if she was dead by the time he found her." He said thoughtfully.

"Anya?" Buffy didn't know how she knew it was the ex-demon, she was just certain of it.

"Yeah. God, Buff, you're just on the top of your game tonight, aren't you? I guess not, or you would have never of let me in."

"What happened to you?" She asked, angry that desperation poured out with her words.

"I woke up." He answered, getting up to pace the room. How could he explain everything he had been through, the power that had been gifted to him?

"What?"

"That night, the night we fought Glory?" He started, turning towards her again. Buffy nodded, her mind trying to remember every detail of that night. But all that she could remember was the bone crushing fear that she wouldn't get to Dawn, followed by the surge of relief and gratitude when she realized that Spike had come through. "Well, when I saw you in that tower, with Spike and Dawn . . . I can't really explain it. It was like a switch clicked on in my head. You looked so. . magnificent up there. And, I knew. I was just fooling myself with Anya. It would always be you. A couple of weeks later, I killed the first girl. It was accident." he hurried to explain. "I had gone to the Bronze, looking for you, and met her instead. She looked so much like you, and I let her talk me into walking her home, then went in when she invited me in. She kissed me, and I liked it. So, I just kept kissing her, but, then she slapped me. Wanted to know who Buffy was. It was then that I realized what I had done. And, I got so. . .mad at her for not being you. She was just a cheap imitation. A whore. I don't even know how the knife wound up in my hand, or even what had happened. But, the next thing I knew, I was standing over her, her blood everywhere. I panicked, at first. Then, it was like this blanket slipped over me, calming me, and I knew what I had to do. I cleaned myself up, wiped any traces that I was there away, and took the knife with me, this knife. The one from your collection. Don't remember taking it with me that night, but, I must have, huh?" He looked down at the blade, wiping his finger through the blood staining it. Rubbing it between his fingers, he got a euphoric smile on his face. "I was scared to death after I got home. Scared that I had killed her. Scared that I had liked it. Made me no better than Spike, and you can guess how well I took that." Buffy felt a shiver run through her at his meticulous retelling of his fall into insanity. He sounded so detached, like it didn't matter what he had done. Even Spike felt some form of remorse over what he had done in his life.

"But, you did it again." She prompted, the longer she could keep him talking, the longer she had to figure a way out of this. She didn't want to kill him, but she would, to save her and Spike. Oh, god, he was walking into a trap, and he didn't know it. *Wait, this is Spike,* she told herself, struggling to keep track of what Xander was saying. *He won't just barge in guns blazing,* she assured herself. He was first and foremost a creature of the night, stealth was part of their nature.

"Yeah, the second time was a work of art." Revulsion shuddered through her at the look of bliss that crossed his face. "Thought the stakes and the garlic were a nice touch. Kinda symbolic." He grinned, pausing to remember the scene. "But, I was still so horrified at the same time I was doing this. The power that I felt, and the sickness. Still, I had you, shining bright in my mind. I thought, if I could make you understand, then you would help me. Save me. But, I was wrong." He sighed, hanging his head. "You're no better than the rest of them."

"How did you get the camera into my house?" she asked quickly, trying to keep him talking. He stopped in the middle of the floor, a look of pride flowing over his face.

"That was easy," he told her. "Full access pass to your house. Wasn't nothing but a thing to come over when Dawn was home, telling her that you wanted me to fix something in your room. Such a trusting girl. No danger from the Xand man. And let me tell you, having a techno-wiccan as a best friend is quite a plus. Hanging around her for so many years, I was bound to pick a few things up. Even which herbs can be mixed together and drunk to alter body chemistry just enough that Deadboy jr. couldn't recognize my scent." *Well, that explained a lot,* Buffy thought. Anger ripped over her at the thought of him in her house, planting that camera with her baby sister in the house. She thanked God again that Dawn was far away from all this. A loud crash turned their attention to the door, followed by a pained growl. Buffy's heart crashed against her chest as she recognized the sound.

"Well, sounds like he's finally here. Guess he found the crossbow I had set up by the door," he said with a laugh. *No* she prayed, closing her eyes against the image of her Spike, the shock in his eyes when the bolt struck home, and then the burst of dust as he died. Seeing her distress, Xander clucked paternally. "Oh, don't worry, Buff, I didn't kill him, just incapacitated him. Want him to watch while I carve up your pretty little body." He chorused, turning to leave the bedroom.

Buffy opened her eyes again, tugging on her bonds, looking for a way out. Unfortunately, the drugs were still reeking havoc in her system, and she was still weak. Fisting her hands, she vowed that she would get out, and make Xander pay.

Chapter Twelve

Spike tossed the unconscious body of the vampire he was holding aside. He realized the stake was plastic the second it entered the heart and his unwilling accomplice didn't go poof. He could only imagine what type of poison was on it, but he didn't feel an ounce of remorse for the demon behind him. Slipping into the dark apartment, he quickly crossed the living room, his yellow eyes picking out the rubble of the furniture. Hunkering down behind the remains of the couch, he watched Xander as he opened the door and stepped out, a violent stream of curses erupting from the brunette as he stepped outside to dispose of the vampire.

As soon as the boy stepped outside, Spike took off at the height of his preternatural speed, a slight breeze the only thing giving away his presence.

*Whelp's too sure of himself* Spike thought, entering the bedroom and moving directly to Buffy. She jumped a bit when he appeared beside her, eyes widening. She had no idea he could move that fast. He reached out with his knife and slit her bonds, pulling her into a sitting position. The sound of Xander's boots in the hall had him straightening, his right hand curling into a fist. Buffy's limbs still felt leaden and her breathing was labored. Until the effects of the drug wore off, Spike was on his own. He was stronger, but Xander had been fighting vampires for years. Plus, he had the benefit of being nuts, so it was anybody's guess who had the advantage.

Spike moved around the bed, contemplating his options. As soon as Xander walked through the bedroom door, he stopped. The sight of the fully vamped face and the long edged knife only made him smile.

"Spike. You made it. Of course, you using another vamp to take that stake was a slight miscalculation, but, I think I can overcome it." Before Spike had a chance to come up with a appropriate comeback, Xander launched. The vampire got his arm up in time to block the stake, hissing as it pierced his flesh. He swung with his other hand, fully intending to stab the whelp and gut him, but Xander threw his weight to the side, dropping them both off balance. As they crashed into the table holding his computer, Spike twisted and grabbed his wrist, squeezing until it popped and the stake clattered to the floor. With a howl of outrage and pain, Xander kneed the vampire in his groin, then grabbed the keyboard from the table, smashing it across the back of his platinum head.

"Well, looks like you won't be able to give Buff her undead fix, Spikey. Guess it's up to me to satsify that hot little bod of hers." Spike glared up at him, blue eyes clouded with pain, then slammed his fist up into Xander's groin, as payback.

"Try raping anybody now." he growled as the brunette sunk to his knees, coughing with pain. Spike's own jewels weren't feeling too healthy, but he at least got the satisfaction that he had probably broken the boy's for good. He sat back on his heels for a second, catching his breath.

"Spike?" Buffy called, trying to stand. Grimacing, he stood grabbing his fallen knife, and walked over to her, keeping a careful eye on the brunette.

"You alright?" He asked, hazarding to look at her. He cupped her face, wiping the tear tracks away. She nodded slowly, grateful for the tingling sensation in her limbs. It meant they were starting to get back to normal. Unable to resist, Spike gave in to the fear that had chased him all the way from Revello drive and leaned down to kiss her. He shouldn't have.

A soft popping sound, followed by the sound of metal imbedding in flesh filled the room. Buffy's eyes grew round as saucers as Spike fell away from her, a puddle of blood forming around him. She watched in horror, her still numb legs unable to move her to help him, as Xander swung the knife again. Spike was out cold on the floor, the dart sticking out of his neck, a gaping wound in his side.

"Tsk, tsk. Expected smarter from you, Deadboy. Never turn your back on an enemy." Xander said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Just you and me now, Buffy. Wanna play?" His smile turned her blood to ice and he started to swagger towards the bed, giving the fallen vamp a kick for good measure.

"No!" She cried, forcing herself off the bed and stumbling into her former friend. She grabbed the hand holding the knife, thankful that her fingers seemed to be working, and tried to pry them open. They fell to the floor with her momentum, crashing into the dresser on their way down, spilling its contents. Xander landed on the wrist that Spike had destroyed, and a hoarse curse fell from his mouth. Buffy tried to move as he rolled, but the drug was still hindering her, and he found herself trapped beneath him. She was still struggling to get the knife, even though his weight was crushing her, hindering her already haggard breathing.

"Damn, Buff. What's all the fuss about? It's not like a knife will KILL him. Although, watching me FUCK YOU, then filet you might." He told her, slamming the heel of his hand against her chin, causing stars to shoot vividly in front of her eyes. She released her hold on that hand, and reached out for the other, smiling with grim satisfaction when he howled. She tried to punch him, but she couldn't seem to get her brain and her fingers working on the same wavelength. The only good thing about this struggle was that he only had use of one hand, and it was still holding the knife. He had her pinned, but he couldn't hold her down. Gathering any amount of strength she could, Buffy pushed him off of her, rolling and trying to scramble away.

"You know, Spike was right. Fear does make the killing better." She heard the clatter of the knife hitting the ground, then felt the brush of his groping fingers as they tried to wrap around her ankle. Kicking out, she pushed his hand away, and pulled herself to the fallen stake. She felt her limbs start to respond the more she moved, and she tried desperately to keep moving.

Her fingers grabbed the sharp wood in the same second that he caught her. Pulling her arms to her stomach, she pointed the stake out as he rolled her over and fell on her to pin her again, realizing too late what she had done. A sickening thwack, followed by a look of shock on his face told her that the stake struck home. She didn't realize that she was sobbing as he fell limply to the floor, eyes rolling up in his head, blood bubbling out of his mouth. With the last of her strength, she pushed him the rest of the way off of her, and turned back onto her stomach. Not looking at the slowly dying body of the man she had trusted, she began the slow process of crawling back to the man that she loved. Ignoring the blood spreading around him, she pulled herself close so she could inspect his side. She yanked the dart out of his neck, then searched for something to press against the wound. On the floor next to the overturned dresser, she saw a white t-shirt, and she reached out for it.

Working on auto, and struggling the whole time, she managed to get the material wrapped around his side. Once it was secured, she rolled him onto his back and curled up against him, her tears joining his blood to soak his shirt.

~*~*~

Buffy came awake when a gentle hand touched her shoulder. A scream ripped from her throat, and she cocked her fist back to attack.

"Buffy!" Giles' roughened voice pierced her brain, and she focused her eyes on her Watcher. The look of grief and confusion on his face had it all flooding back to her, and a sob crossed with another scream tore from the depths of her soul. He gathered her up in his arms, oblivious to the blood drying on her skin, and the state of her undress. Spike stirred, opening his eyes to see his Slayer grieving against Giles' chest. Beyond them, in a river of blood on the floor, lay the lifeless body of the man the Scoobies had all called 'friend.' Over the crying girl's head, Spike and Giles met eyes, shock and pain screaming through them both.

"How's Anya?" Spike croaked, clearing his throat.

"She's sleeping. I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital. She said no. I started to get worried once the sun came up, and she told me where to find you." Giles explained, running a hand absently over Buffy's back. She started to quiet as they were talking, and she suddenly seemed to realize that she was naked, sitting in her Watcher's lap.

"Giles, could you find me a shirt or something?" She asked quietly, sliding from his arms to rest against Spike again.

"Er, of course." Giles stood and walked to the overturned dresser, purposefully keeping his eyes away from the figure on the floor. Returning to them with a blue T-shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts, he helped her put them on.

"What time is it?" Spike asked, wincing as he pushed himself up. Buffy immediately reached out to steady him.

"Seven thirty." The watcher answered, helping them both to their feet. Tears flooded Buffy's eyes again when she saw Xander on the floor. Pushing them back, she began to look for a blanket to cover Spike with.

"Buffy," she stopped her search to look at her lover. "What about. . ." Spike waved a hand in the general direction of the body. She closed her eyes against the grief and anger tearing through her. When she opened them again, she leveled her gaze on the men.

"Let's go home. We'll call the police from there." Then she turned and went back to her search. Once she found a heavy comforter, she draped it over herself and Spike. Then, the trio left the apartment, never looking back.

Epilogue

One year later

Dawn raced down the stairs at the sound of the knock on the door, Sid not a step behind her.

"Slow down Nibblet." Spike yelled from the couch. Buffy walked out of the kitchen just as the door swung open. Dawn's excited squeal followed by laughter and talking filtered in from the outside.

"Dawnie, let them come in." She said with a smile. Spike moved into the foyer, an actual smile on his face, in place of his usual smirk. Buffy walked to the open door, just as Giles, Anya, and Dawn walked back in. Cradled in the arms of her sister, was a giggling, squirming mass of brown curls, and baby flesh.

"Hello there, gorgeous, and how is my favorite goddaughter?" Buffy asked, plucking the giggling girl out of her sister's arms.

"I swear, everywhere we go, that's all people want to do. Take the baby." Anya snarked good naturedly, leaning up to brush a kiss across Spike's cool cheek. He brushed a hand over her hair, then turned to snatch the baby himself. Anya rolled her eyes, and moved into the protective circle of Giles' arm.

"Hey!" Buffy snapped, before moving to the couple to embrace them both.

"Come on, pint size. Let's go see what Uncle Spike can find on the telly to corrupt you with." Spike told the girl, Dawn hot on his heels.

"I never thought I would see the day where I trusted Spike to handle a child." Giles said, taking off his glasses to clean them. Buffy grinned, and led them into the living room.

"Life on the Hellmouth." She offered in explanation.

"Quite right."

"How was the flight?" She asked, sitting on the floor in front of Spike as he bounced the baby on his knee. Dawn sat next to him, making silly faces. Sid curled up next to her, resting his head in her lap in a not so subtle maneuver to get pet. She did so, without thought, while she waited for their answer.

"Tiring. Teleportation is such a more efficient, and less jet laggy way to travel." Anya answered, sinking wearily into the chair.

"Yes, Anya dear. But it's very inconvenient with a baby." Giles told her, pulling the other chair next to her. Buffy smiled at the odd couple, and the obvious devotion they had towards each other. After they had returned to the house that horrible day, and called the police, Anya had taken the blame for Xander's death. The extent of her injuries screamed self defense, so after a cursory investigation, the Sunnydale Police closed the case. They hadn't even asked about the stake, which caused much eye rolling from Spike. Leave it to the Sunnyhell Police to not even bat an eye at the choice of weapon used.

The worst part, had been having to tell Willow and Dawn what had happened. The teenager had cried, denied, and screamed. But, in the end, she had accepted what had happened, and had rallied to help Anya. And Willow. . .

When Willow had returned a week later, after much calling of the Wiccan group headquarters by Buffy, she had been stunned. She had sat on the couch, her skin pale, her eyes wide and shocked. Tara sat beside her, her own expression sick as they listened to what had happened. Willow was beside herself, and guilty because she hadn't seen that her best friend since forever had needed help. She'd left the house that day, her innocence completely ripped from her. She had started to pull away from them, too ashamed of herself to face them. Especially Anya. And once the former vengeance demon had found out the she was pregnant, Willow couldn't handle being around them at all. By the time Anya had decided to keep the baby, the witch had accepted her scholarship at MIT, and had left Sunnydale. Tara had left with her, but still called Buffy and Dawn twice a week, just to keep in touch should the day ever come that Willow would want to see them all again.

When Buffy had heard that her friend had left, she hadn't been surprised. She, herself, had spent many nights, huddled in Spike's arms, trying to figure out how she could have been so blind. Spike hadn't tried to say anything, just held her while she cried, let her yell if she needed to. Hell, he even let her beat on him if it made her feel better. If it was that hard for her, she couldn't even imagine how hard it must have been for Willow. Giles and Spike had been their rocks, through it all. Taking over patrol, making sure they ate right. All of them, since Anya had been moved in.

But, once Anya had realized that she was pregnant, Giles had stepped in. Denial, rage, hate, fear, and finally acceptance had dominated Anya's mind, as she agonized over her decision. Giles had done what Giles always did. He was there, and he helped her just by listening. Every step of the way, from getting her into rape counseling, to taking her to her first doctors appointment, he stood by her. It had become apparent to Buffy by this point, that her Watcher was entertaining some delicate feelings for the ex-demon. Spike had thought that maybe Anya was feeling the same way. So, when they had finally announced that they were officially a 'thing', it came as no surprise to any of them.

The day that the baby was born, was the first, well-needed happy day for them. Giles was acting just like a new father, a look of pride combined with panic on his face. Spike walked around the hospital handing out cigars to anybody that dared to look at him. Dawn and Buffy had sat in the labor room with her, and Buffy had been in the delivery room, because "For all the demons and stuff he's killed, birth makes Rupert squeamish." Anya had told her.

They had named the squalling, nine pound baby girl Victoria , after Giles' mother.

A month after she had been born, they were married in a small civil ceremony. The only ones in attendance were Spike, Buffy and Dawn. After awhile, life on the Hellmouth returned to normal. The demons came out of hiding once they heard that the human killer was gone. Dawn went back to school, and Buffy went back to work.. Spike took over the finances, shocking them both with his ability to both manage and balance a checkbook.

"Hey, you don't live for a century plus without picking up a thing or two." He'd told them. They were even more shocked to discover that the only reason he was living in the crypt was because he was penny pincher. After he had moved into the house, Buffy had found some legal documents sitting on her dresser. After reading them, she had burst into the bathroom demanding an explanation as to just why he had extorted money from them for help when he was chipped. At his puzzled look, she held up the financial statement from his lawyer in London. Spike was apparently a very wealthy vampire. He had flashed her his devilish grin, then pulled her into the shower with him. After the water ran cold, she had decided to forgive him. Laughter broke through Buffy's revery, and she shook herself out of her thoughts to rejoin the conversation going on around her.

"The Watcher's council was very interested in the fact that I married a former demon." Giles said, chuckling.

"Well, you could always take the heat off yourself by telling them that your Slayer is mated to a vampire." Spike suggested, allowing Dawn to take the baby from him, so he could run his hand through Buffy's hair.

"No, I don't think I'll do that. My reputation is dubious enough without adding that." The Watcher answered, linking his fingers with Anya's.

"Now, Rupert. There's no need for the 'Watcher-speak' here." Anya scolded. Spike's brow shot up at the slight coloring of Giles' face.

"Watcher, were you bad while you were in the mother country?" He asked, a evil smirk curling his lip.

"I should say not." He replied indignantly.

"Oh, don't lie."

"Anya, dear. . ."

"He took us to a pub one night, and I can't even tell you how many Guinness he had. By the time the night was over, I was pulling him from the bar, Vicky balanced in one arm, while he's trying to sing another round of 'Oh Danny Boy." Anya told them giddily. Giles rubbed his hand over his forehead, wondering what he had done to deserve this.

"Rupert, you naughty Watcher, you." Spike tsked.

"At least it wasn't God Save the Queen." Dawn volunteered, earning her glares from both Brits. She ducked her head sheepishly, her laugh causing the baby to respond. Buffy looked around the room at the people that she loved, happiness filling the hollow spot that Xander's betrayal and death had left. This was what life was about. his little group had survived, and they would forever be bound together, family by love if not by blood. She felt a gentle tug on her hair, and she looked up into the blue eyes of her mate.

"I love you." he mouthed, running a knuckle over her cheek. She captured the hand and kissed it.

"I love you, too." She mouthed in response.

"God, could you two get more gross." Dawn complained, a wide smile on her mouth. Vicky giggled and smacked at Dawn's mouth.

"See, even the baby says watch your mouth, Nibblet." Spike mock growled.

"Hey, you guys hungry? I made dinner." Buffy asked, pushing Sid's head off of her and getting up. She looked around the room and took in the obvious looks of distress at the thought of Buffy cooking. "What? I can cook." She pouted. Spike stood and nipped at her lip, ignoring the gagging noises from Dawn.

"Pet, I love you. But Sid won't even eat what you cook." He told her.

"Oh, really. You keep that up fang face, and Sid gets your side of the bed." She retorted, walking out of the living room.

"I wish I was Vicky. At least she gets out of eating." Dawn grumbled, collecting the baby and calling Sid to follow her sister. Anya left with them, talking about how Buffy's cooking was at least better than that stuff they called food in England. Giles and Spike followed their women, exchanging looks of sympathy at being the only ones with culture in the house.

"Yanks." Spike snarled.

"Quite right."

~*THE END*~

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