Chapter 8

There were more practical considerations involved in keeping a human around for longer than a few days. Spike himself liked to eat, so there was occasionally a little food in the house, but Buffy was going to need regular meals and that would involve shopping and then someone having to prepare it. And she would require clothes and quite possibly other things he didn't even know about. For someone who had had so many women, he knew remarkably little about them.

He watched her as she neatly divided the, now rather stale, loaf of bread in two and placed each half on a plate.

"Do you have any butter?" she asked.

Spike shook his head.

"Preserves?"

"No," he said, wondering where the coachman was and thinking he ought to send him out to buy or steal some supplies as soon as it got dark.

"What do you have then?" Buffy asked with a laugh. "Your larder is empty, and where are your staff? I haven't seen anyone this morning, surely you don't run a house as large as this without servants?"

"You ask a lot of questions," he said pulling out a chair and sitting himself opposite her at the large wooden table that formed the centrepiece of the kitchen. It struck him that if he'd had a normal life, he'd probably have been married by now. There had to have been some girl who would have been grateful to have had William as a husband, and this would have been a daily occurrence for him. Breakfasting together and talking about how they were going to spend their day. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.

'Stop that right now,' his demon said sharply.

Spike sat up. 'Stop what? I'm just sitting here.'

'You're dreaming, my boy. And of things you can't have,' the demon added.

"Wouldn't you, if you were me?" Buffy said. "Oh dear, this bread's horribly stale, surely you have a housekeeper?"

"What?" Spike focussed on Buffy and tried to push back his demon. It wasn't easy trying to have two separate conversations at the same time. "What were you saying?"

Buffy tilted her head and looked at him curiously. "Were you even listening? I was just wondering where your housekeeper was."

"Haven't had time to engage one yet," he said frantically trying to think of a plausible answer to her questions. "Only been in the house a week."

"Ahh, that explains the dustsheets." Buffy pushed back her plate. "Did you inherit?"

"Sort of," Spike said. "I inherited a house in town and sold it to buy this one. I can offer you tea," he said suddenly remembering what was in the larder, "and I think there's a bag of oats. Can you do anything with that?"

"If you have milk, we can make porridge."

"Sorry." Spike shook his head. As a human he'd had little idea of the running of a household and none whatsoever of the workings of a kitchen. He and his mother had only kept a small staff, but the cooking and cleaning had generally happened without his having to be involved in anything other than eating the food as it appeared and living in the house.

Buffy laughed. "It's a good job I'm here then. I suppose you've been eating in taverns and restaurants. So like a single man."

"I could take you out," Spike said suddenly inspired with a solution to the meal time problem.

"For breakfast?" She arched an eyebrow. "Just how have you been living, Spike?"

'It's daylight,' his demon reminded him. 'You're not proposing to go out in the light, are you?' Then it sighed. 'Do try and remember that you are still a vampire, no matter how much you are trying to pretend you aren't.'

"Damn," Spike said out loud, and looked towards the kitchen window. It was already too light for him to go out, even though the sun wasn't yet properly up. And it promised to be the kind of glorious day that would certainly keep him indoors safely in the shade. "Never mind breakfast," he said and stood up. "Let's go and make love again. I have so much to teach you."

He swiftly moved round to her side of the table and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "There's something I'd like you to do for me."

Buffy leaned back just fractionally and twisted her head. "What would that be?" she said in a quiet voice.

His hands slid downwards inside his jacket that she was still wearing and settled over the curve of her breasts. He dipped his head and whispered to her.

"In my mouth?" she said in an even quieter voice. "You want me to…?" her gaze strayed to the front of his trousers.

"You enjoy it when I do it to you."

The way she still blushed at the mention of these things fascinated him, and reminded him of how poor William used to colour up at the slightest hint of anything sexual, which in those days consisted mainly of a woman merely looking in his direction. On one occasion he'd caught a young lady adjusting her garter in the hallway and it had left him so hot and bothered that he'd had to take a cold bath. Definitely some advantages to being a vampire, Spike thought as he worked his hands into the front of her dress. Lack of any inhibitions when it came to women being one. "Come on, Buffy," he said. "I know you want to do it."

"I also want to eat," she said placing her hand over his. "You must be hungry too, Spike, you didn't eat anything last night."

"I'd already eaten," he said stopping his exploration momentarily. "Okay, you have me. There's no food left in the house, but I'll send the coachman out for some this evening, will that suit you?"

Buffy rubbed her hand over the back of his and he squeezed her breast gently, starting a slow massage to which she responded by moving against him and sighing softly. Her head fell back against his chest as he leaned over her and the small scab that had formed on her neck was tantalisingly near to his mouth as he kissed his way towards it. He was hungry too because he hadn't fed properly last night, since Buffy was supposed to have been dinner.

The call of the blood was far too strong for him to resist and she didn't stop him as he pushed aside her hair and covered the mark with his mouth, dislodging the scab. Not too much, he cautioned himself, taking small sips rather than deep draughts.

This was another novel experience. A willing human was something he'd never had before and it was hard to stop himself once he'd fallen into a rhythm. Her sweetness flooded his senses and it was only when his face started to change that he realised what he was doing.

Bloody hell, he thought as he wiped his mouth with his hand. Panic and fear made the victim's blood rich and spicy, but her blood just seemed to flow into his mouth and already he could feel it warming him.

"You're a strange one," she said eyeing him sleepily as she leaned back against him. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Told you before, I like the taste of your blood." Spike pulled her out of the chair and swung her into his arms. "Does it bother you?"

"I don't know," was all she said before settling herself against him. "It should, I suppose, but for some reason it doesn't."

Spike didn't waste any more time. The need to distract had turned into the plain need to have her now and he quickly made his way upstairs, taking her this time to his own bedroom since the other one still had glass all over the floor. She laughed, but not unkindly, as he fumbled over his trouser buttons and observed that it was certainly less than an hour since they'd done this, and surely he couldn't want her again already?

"I'll always want you," he said. "All the time and forever. Do you want me? Want this?"

"God help me, but I do. Spike," she said and held out her arms in invitation. "Teach me to do that thing you told me about downstairs. I want to learn everything there is to learn."

"That's my girl," he said pulling off the rest of his clothes and crawling up beside her on the bed. "You're mine. Buffy. Make no mistake about that. Not going to let any one near you."

The way she stiffened momentarily when he said that made him forget all about the sex for a moment. "He won't find you," Spike said. "There's nothing to connect you with this house, or with me. No one saw us leave. You're perfectly safe here."

There was that strange feeling again. He'd run upstairs with her, so great had been his need to be inside her, but now all he wanted to do was hold her and feel her against him. It was enough that she was there. The sex was nice, but so was this. Companionship. Having someone else to talk to other than his demon. Feeling part of the world again, even if it was only pretend.

All William had wanted was to be loved. And he still did.

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Buffy looked down at the man spread beneath her. She certainly did enjoy it when he kissed her private places, and had no doubt that he would too. When she'd plucked up enough courage, that was.

"What exactly do you want me to do?" she asked him.

"Just be creative," he replied. "You could start with a kiss."

Buffy leaned towards his mouth. Spike raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards his lap.

"Oh, sorry," she said instantly feeling her cheeks go red. "You wanted me to kiss…"

"Down there?" Spike put his hands behind his head, giving her complete control. "It would be nice."

Buffy stared at it for a while longer, then she pulled her hair back, held it in one hand, and lowered her head. She managed a very small kiss before jerking away, mainly because Spike had moved his hips sharply as she'd touched him with her lips and it had made her jump.

"Do it again," he said "and I'll try not to move, although it's bloody difficult."

Buffy wondered how she was going to take all of that in her mouth. Would he expect her to? She had no idea how to proceed. Kisses, that's what he'd asked for, so she bent her head and planted a row of very light kisses from the base to the end and when she got there she licked it very carefully with the tip of her tongue. It didn't taste as bad as she'd thought it would so she tried again, this time trailing her tongue along the length of it and then sitting back to inspect her work.

"How was that?" she asked him.

He had the most devastating smile she'd ever seen on a man, and he raised his head and gave it to her then. It made her glow with pride at the obvious enjoyment on his face and the fact that it was her making him feel all that.

"Don't stop," was all he said before dropping his head back into to the pillows.

Buffy took a deep breath and rested one hand on his stomach, which he immediately covered with his own, and the other she placed on his thigh. "Should I take it all in?"

"Just what you can love."

"Alright, but try not to move," she said, watching him anxiously.

"I'll be as still as the grave."

Buffy bent her head, then sat up once more. "It's just that I've always had this terrible fear of choking. Nurse could never get me to take any medicine, she always had to hold my nose to get me to swallow it."

"No problem love, just take your time."

Buffy nodded and very carefully wrapped her lips around the end of his hard shaft. For something so hard it felt surprisingly fragile and she knew she ought to be careful, but after taking no more than an inch inside she could already feel her throat closing up. The spasm caused her to close her mouth sharply and Spike to jack-knife abruptly into a sitting position.

"Ouch," he cried. "No teeth, Buffy. Teeth are not good when you're doing this."

"Oh, Spike, I'm sorry," she said sitting back on her heels and covering her mouth with her hand. "I can't do it. Did I hurt you?"

His surprised face relaxed into a wry smile. "Just a little," he said. "And I didn't mean to shout at you. Just wasn't expecting you to do that. Not the best place to be bitten."

Buffy covered her face, mortified. "You're not too cross with me, are you?"

Spike sat right up and slid his arm around her waist. "You can't be good at everything, love. And you don't have to do it if you don't want to. How's that?"

"I could try again," she offered noticing with relief that he didn't look angry with her at all, nor did he look in the least disappointed. "I nearly choked on a piece of meat when I was a child and everyone swears that I went quite blue in the face before they managed to dislodge it."

That made Spike laugh. Buffy narrowed her eyes as he calmed himself then she realised what was so amusing about her story. "Oh, the meat…" she looked down at his still hard cock and giggled. "I wasn't making a joke, really."

Spike giggled too, a sound she'd never heard him make, then he rested his forehead against hers. "I like you, Buffy. I like you a lot," he said. Then he raised his head and just gazed at her, a hint of a smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. It faded away as he continued to stare to be replaced by an intense focus the like of which she'd never had directed at her before. And this time he wasn't holding her in thrall as he'd done earlier.

There was an honesty in his expression that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside of him, almost as if he'd decided to show her something that he normally kept carefully hidden. He didn't have to use words to show her how vulnerable he really was and how much he really did need her, she could see it. And she didn't have to say anything either. All she had to do was hold out her arms and all he had to do was move into them and lay his head onto her chest.

"I will try again," she told him smoothing back his hair as he listened to her heart beating. "I'm sure I'll get used to it, but would you like to make love to me instead? I seem to want you as much as you want me. Don't ask me why and don't ask me how it happened. If I stop to think about it I'll probably run away and never come back."

"No, don't go." He held her tighter and pressed his face harder against her, and the words came out muffled, but she heard them clearly enough.

"I'm not going anywhere, Spike," she said continuing to push his thick, curly hair away from his forehead. Then she let him go and swept her own hair away from her neck exposing the still-bleeding wound. "Here," she said. "Would you like to do this again?"

Spike raised his head and frowned. "Why would you want to?" he asked looking genuinely perplexed. "Naïve as you are, you must realise it's not normal behaviour between a man and a woman."

"I have no idea what so-called normal behaviour is, Spike. I think we're making our own rules, am I right?"

Spike nodded.

"Then do it. I think it would make you happy?"

"Lord yes."

Buffy arched back her neck as his lips hovered over her skin. It stung just a little when he sucked, but she didn't really notice any pain because his hands were moving over her, touching every part of her and then pushing her down into the silky quilt that covered his bed.

Afterwards, she couldn't remember the point at which he'd joined with her because all that mattered was that he was there. The pleasure was just a bonus. Buffy lay beside him as he fell into a deep sleep and wondered why, even though she was effectively trapped in this house, she felt more free than she'd ever done. And more grown up. Of course, she was a woman now, but it was more than the physical thing that had happened to her that made her feel this way. Master of her own destiny, it's what she'd always wanted to be and for the first time in her life she was actually feeling it.

Spike would be a formidable enemy, but with him fighting in her corner she felt as if nothing in the world could touch her. And certainly not her brother. It did cross her mind that her brother would probably not fare too well if Spike and he ever did come to blows, but she pushed the thought away. Far more pressing was the matter of food since her stomach was protesting its hunger quite vigorously now and she was starting to feel a little dizzy.

The thought struck her that there must be some produce that she could pick in the kitchen garden. There had to be one and it was early June so there should be strawberries at least because they would grow wild even if the garden had been neglected. With this thought in mind she rose from the bed taking care not to wake Spike, and dressed herself. His jacket was far too big for her, but it covered her ripped bodice adequately enough and once she was dressed she made her way downstairs.

Her feet were still hurting her and she was already at the kitchen door by the time she realised that her shoes were upstairs lying on the broken glass where she'd dropped them. She stood on the step and looked around. A stone path wound its way to the side of the house to a red-brick wall with a small gate in it and the house itself was flanked by a stone terrace which led down to lawns and flower beds. Everything looked to be at the early stages of neglect with the grass at almost knee-height and the flower beds a riot of blooms that no-one had bothered to tame. It was as if nature was slowly creeping back and reclaiming the place, quietly smothering any traces that people had ever lived here. Or that they lived here still.

The perfect placed to hide, she thought as she stepped gingerly out. Possibly not the wisest thing to do with her feet cut to ribbons, but it didn't look far and it wasn't exactly the most foolish thing she'd done in the last few days.

It was the strangest feeling walking with the house behind her. It was a flat, fronted regency-style building, painted a dull, faded grey, and as it had felt dead on the inside, it looked it from the outside too. All the curtains were drawn except for those she'd opened in the library and she kept getting the strangest feeling that it was watching her.

Buffy hurried through her task and found herself a few strawberries, although she realised with dismay that she'd forgotten to bring anything to transport them in so she filled her skirt with them as she'd often done as a child and carried them back to the house that way. By the time she was back in the kitchen her feet were telling her in no uncertain terms how foolish she'd been to out with no shoes. She quickly washed the fruit then sat down at the kitchen table to inspect the damage.

"Where did you go?"

Buffy jumped and turned suddenly to find Spike standing clad only in his trousers in the doorway that led to the kitchen from the hall.

"Oh, you startled me," she said pushing her feet out of sight under the table. "I found some strawberries, would you like some?"

"And where exactly did you find them?" He sounded angry, as if he was barely controlling it.

"The kitchen garden. It's terribly neglected, but it could still be saved. You really should get a gardener to sort it out."

Spike crossed the kitchen so quickly that she hardly saw him move. "I woke up and you weren't there," he said standing in front of her chair.

"I didn't think you'd mind," she said shrinking away from him because he still looked angry enough to remind her of what he was. A killer who she'd been stupid enough to think she'd tamed. Foolish girl, she berated herself. Thinking to bring a dangerous animal to heel with a pat on the head and a few kind words.

"Don't flinch from me, Buffy." He said it in a quiet, even tone. "Please don't do that."

"Alright." She swallowed and eyed him warily, curling her feet inwards because he was staring at them intently.

"You went outside without any shoes? That was stupid."

"Spike, I know it was." Buffy stood up then sat down again abruptly. "My feet are punishing me enough for it already, please don't you be angry with me too."

By the time she got to the end of her speech her voice was breaking. Some of it was pain, but most of it was the shock of realising that her new found trust in Spike might be misplaced after all. She bit her lip to hold back the tears, but Spike noticed.

"Heck, now I've made you cry." He ran an agitated hand through his hair and then crouched down in front of her. "Buffy," he said, then he shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. Taking a deep breath, he started again. "I didn't know where you were and it scared me. I thought you'd left me."

"No." Buffy sniffed, but a few tears spilled anyway. "I just went to pick some strawberries. I was hungry."

"You're making me worry about you, and I'm not used to worrying about people. Say you forgive me for being angry with you."

"I forgive you."

"No, you must mean it. This isn't going to work if we can't trust each other."

There was a long silence during which Spike kept his gaze firmly on her face and Buffy knew that the time had come to make a decision. One that would bring her the peace of mind to get on with her life. Or one that would send her back into the world to whatever fate it had in store for her.

It wasn't a hard decision in the end . Her eyes were wide open and she knew what Spike was. She also knew that they needed each other desperately.

"There's nothing to forgive," she said. "You were angry because you were worried and I understand that. So, you must understand that it might frighten me when you're like that. I've seen you kill, I know how strong you are and what you're capable of, but," Buffy raised her hand to stop him because it looked as if he was going to interrupt her and she hadn't finished. "No, let me finish," she said. "Then you can speak. I also know how gentle you can be and that you'd never let anyone hurt me, am I right?"

"Won't let anyone near you, pet. Tell me you trust me never to hurt you."

How could she not say yes when he looked at her like that? Never before had she thought that she had anything of value to give to anyone and just as Spike talked of unfamiliar feelings, this was one for her. For the second time today, here he was, on his knees in front of her asking her for something and all she had to do was say the words. Words that would make him the happiest man on earth, or words that would make him indescribably sad. It was her choice.

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'We need to talk.'

'No we don't.'

'Yes we do.'

'Not listening.'

'Then I'm going to appear, right in front of her.'

"Spike, would you mind if I opened the curtains, it's awfully dark in here and I can hardly see to read this book."

Buffy ended the sentence with a smile and the place where Spike's heart used to be tightened. He also felt a familiar tingling in his fangs as his demon tried to carry out its threat.

Spike moved himself away from the window. "Go ahead. I, er, just need to fetch something. Won't be a minute."

"Open them for me would you please?"

"Oh, alright." Spike stepped back towards the window while Buffy went back to reading her book. She couldn't see him from where she was and with a little manoeuvring he managed to pull the drapes apart and get away with only a slight burn to the back of his hand.

"Thank you." She said it without looking up and Spike quickly left the room.

'How much longer do you think you're going to be able to keep this up?' the demon said uncurling from the defensive position it had taken when Spike had opened the curtains. 'We don't like sunlight.'

Spike sucked at the back of his hand and inspected the burn. 'I'll tell her I can't go out in the sun. There has to be a disease that stops people going out into the sun.'

'And a disease that means people don't have to eat, or breathe, or have a heartbeat?'

'That's going to be harder to explain, I'll give you that.'

'Try impossible to explain. William, I can understand you wanting companionship. Just turn her and have done with it.'

Spike pushed the door open so that he could see Buffy sitting with her feet propped up on the sofa still engrossed in her book. 'I like her as she is.'

'Then you're going to lose her.'

'What do you mean?' Spike frowned. 'She said she was staying, said she trusted me. Hell, it's just one human. We'll still feed as normal. I'm may be denying that I'm a vampire, but I haven't forgotten that I am.'

'Well you had me fooled there, boy. We can't be a proper vampire unless you co- operate, you know that. And you were doing so well. William the Bloody, I was so proud. And now?' The demon sniffed disdainfully. 'Frankly this is humiliating.'

'I don't bloody care what you feel,' Spike said holding on to the demon who was trying to retreat now that it had him properly agitated. 'Why am I going to lose her?'

'You haven't noticed, have you?'

'Noticed what?' Spike kept a firm eye on Buffy. She looked happy enough as she leafed through the pages. A faint smile clung to her lips and every now and then she picked up the cup of tea that he'd made her and sipped from it. Maybe she did look a little pale, he had no idea how pale or not young ladies were supposed to be, but her cheeks were rosy red, so that had to be a good sign. He looked more closely letting his demon come forward enough to enhance his senses.

'Are her cheeks supposed to be that red?'

'I don't think so, William.'

'Bloody hell, she's ill. I can smell it now, the blood, smells all wrong. Blood poisoning?'

'I'm afraid so, my dear boy. And you know how fast it can take someone. You'll have to turn her now, or lose her. It's your choice.'

'But I like her as she is.'

'Dying?' The demon's voice was silkily persuasive. 'I vote for turning her, take a chance. One of them has to turn out right. What do you say?'

Spike had nothing whatsoever to say, because he was completely paralysed by this turn of events. The irony of it almost made him laugh, it was so poetic. Of course things were going so well. They had to, so that the blow, when it came, was all the more devastating. Fate had a wonderful way of dangling tantalising prizes in front of people's eyes, of showing them wonderful things. It let you reach out and touch them, it lulled you into a wonderful place where you started to believe things and then, it decided how many sins you had to pay for and apportioned out the prizes accordingly.

The demon thought it hysterically funny, but Spike didn't have the energy to argue with it just then, because all he could see was Buffy. The demon was right, blood poisoning could take someone in the blink of an eye. This time tomorrow she could be dead.

'Or a vampire,' the demon chipped in helpfully.

"Or a vampire," Spike repeated softly. The one thing he didn't want to do to her. This was hell reaching out for him. His just reward for all the evil he'd done. How could he complain? And what right did he have to pray to a God he'd abandoned long ago? There'd be no solace for him there.

'There must be medicine, I'll find a doctor.'

'Do you know of any cure?'

'No, I don't.' He watched as Buffy lifted her head from the book and looked towards the door.

"Spike?" She craned her neck. "Come and see this, I think it will interest you."

Spike pushed the door open and walked in, taking care to stay in the shade. Buffy beckoned him over with a bright smile, too bright, he could see that now. And her cheeks were unnaturally red, stained by two bright spots that sat on a milk-white background.

Gut wrenching fear. He hadn't expected her to make him feel this. Hadn't felt it this bad in a very long time.

"Look," she said. "It's a very bizarre book about circus freaks. There's a picture of a man here who looks just like a wolf. And a woman with a beard. There are so many strange things in this world that we don't now about, are there not?"

He sat down carefully beside her. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," she said. "Will you be able to get some food soon? I fear my head is starting to spin."

"I'll have to wait until it gets dark. Sunlight doesn't agree with me. How are your feet?"

"Is this part of that disease you were telling me about? You poor thing. Don't worry, I can wait. Is that why you keep all the curtains closed?"

"Yes. Your feet, are they hurting?"

"Yes, they are." Buffy turned the page without looking up. "But I am being brave, am I not?"

"You are love, can I see?"

Buffy lifted a foot and waved it in his face. She was still reading the book so he took a chance and let his demon come forward to see how bad it was. It didn't look any different to before, but his vampire senses told him that everything was different and that the next twenty four hours were going to be crucial.

"Ouch." Buffy jumped as he pressed his finger to one of the cuts.

Spike put down her foot. "Sorry about that, is it very painful?"

"Yes it is," she said. "Oh look a man who claims he can breathe underwater like a fish. Isn't it extraordinary."

"Yes," Spike said, absently because he wasn't really listening. The blood that he'd just licked off his finger did taste different. Occasionally he'd eaten a human who was diseased and he'd always been able to tell. Buffy was already ill, although she didn't know it and probably didn't even feel it yet.

He folded his hands in his lap to stop them shaking and let her chatter flow over him. It was his fault. If he hadn't smashed the decanter she wouldn't have cut herself.

'You brought her here to kill her,' his demon reminded him.

'And that's just what I'm doing,' Spike replied. 'Is there no escape from this? Am I doomed to be a self-fulfilling prophecy no matter what?'

'We find it deliciously ironic,' the demon said.

'I suppose you would,' Spike said and then he added in a determined tone. 'She's not going to die.'

'One way or another, she is,' the demon insisted. 'Face it, my boy, how many hours until you can safely go out? At least four?'

Spike looked over to the window.

'By then it will be too late, even if you could find a cure, which you already know you won't. Turn her now and at least spare her the pain of it. Or perhaps not.' The demon shook its head in disgust. 'Now you have me doing it. Turn her for God's sake or watch her die in agony, both will be just as amusing.'

'She's not going to die,' Spike told it again in the same determined tone. 'There must be something someone can do for her.'

"Oh my goodness." Buffy let out a peal of laughter. "There's a man here with two, you know, two, of those…" she giggled. "Do you think these things are real, Spike? Have you ever seen anything like this?"

Spike nodded, wondering where the coachman was. He usually appeared as darkness fell, ready to take Spike out hunting and Spike prayed that he wouldn't be late tonight.

"I'm going out as soon as it gets dark," he said. "Will you be alright here all alone?"

"Can't I come with you?" she said, putting down the book. "I could stay in the carriage, but I don't think I'd like to be here alone." She moved closer to him. "It's a very spooky house, haven't you noticed?"

Spike slipped an arm around her shoulders and let the fingers of his other hand trace the line of her collarbone. It was only a very slight hitch, but she was warmer than before. She sighed and snuggled against him.

"Would you like me to have another go at that thing I tried this morning? What's it called, Spike?"

"Oral pleasuring is the most polite term I can thing of," he said. "And no, I'm happy to sit here a while, like this. Does that suit you?"

"If you make me any more comfortable I shall fall asleep," she said and then stifled a yawn. "You see? You kept me very busy last night. We shall have many wicked nights like that, shall we not?"

"Yes, Buffy, count on it."

She settled her head in his lap and within minutes she was asleep as she'd predicted. Spike put his hand on her hair and felt as helpless as he'd ever felt. The long summer hours of daylight were going to keep him indoors for a good while yet and all he could do was wait for the sun to go down. Had it been more overcast he might have risked covering up and taking the carriage into town himself, but as luck would have it, it was a glorious summer's day with not a cloud in the sky and he would be little use to her as a pile of ashes.

While he sat with her he let his demon emerge, but that only made it worse because it meant that he could feel everything that was happening to her. Each breath slightly faster than the last, the rising fever, the smell of her tainted blood and sweat stained skin. Minute changes, each one taking her a little further away from him.

'You have a decision to make,' his demon said. 'And don't delay, William. You can't turn her if she's dead.'

Spike laid his head onto the back of the sofa and tipped his face to the ceiling. Why was there always pain associated with love? Human or vampire, it didn't seem to make any difference, the outcome was always the same and he was invariably left alone and with a broken heart. Finding out that a dead heart could break as well as a living one had been a shock, but living or dead, it had never felt as bad as this.

'Perhaps she'll survive it,' his demon said. 'People sometimes do.'

Spike covered his eyes with the back of his hand and felt it grow damp with his tears.
'There must be something someone can do.'

'Turn her,' the demon said.

'If I do that she won't be Buffy anymore. What if she ends up like mother?'

Buffy shifted and sighed and Spike looked down at her. The devil's claw-marks, that's what they were called. The red streaks under the skin, a sure sign that you didn't have long to live. They hadn't appeared yet, but they would.

'What are you waiting for?' his demon asked.

'She wouldn't want to be a vampire,' Spike replied and he knew that much was true.

'She may not have a choice,' the demon replied.

Tbc…

Chapter 9

Buffy knew exactly what was happening to her. Even if she hadn’t woken up feeling dreadful and with her feet in terrible pain, the look on Spike’s face would have told her all she needed to know.

It wasn’t hard to guess, even though he tried to deny that there was anything wrong with her.

“My blood, it’s poisoned, isn’t it?” She was lying on his bed, Spike stretched out beside her. His hand felt icy – cold in contrast to the heat in hers. As she spoke his death-grip on it relaxed and he sat up.

“Maybe you’ve just picked up a chill, or something?” He didn’t sound very convinced and she heard the tremor in his voice as he spoke. There was a bowl on the side table and he reached over and dipped a cloth in the water.

Buffy watched him wring it out and then sighed gratefully as he pushed back her hair and patted her face and neck with it. “I think I know what’s wrong, Spike,” she told him when he’d finished. “I know the symptoms.”

Spike pressed his lips together and nodded, hitching himself up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard and pulling her against his chest. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” she answered him swallowing down a wave of nausea. “I’ll either live, or die. Isn’t that how it usually works?”

“Don’t say that love. No-one’s going to die.”

“I might not have a choice, Spike. I had an uncle die of blood poisoning. Big strapping man. He stepped on a nail and the next day, he was dead.”

“And I had a cousin who was at death’s door for three days with a poisoned wound. Smallest, frailest woman you could ever hope to meet, and she survived it. So there’ll be no more talk of dying, alright?”

“Alright.” Buffy managed a very small laugh. If determination alone could save her then she would survive. It was something they both had in abundance. And this was a time when she knew she had to be strong, even though she was the one in pain because Spike both looked, and sounded quite terrified. “Besides, who’s going to save you if anything happens to me?” she told him and he pulled her even closer to him. It wasn’t very comfortable, but she didn’t complain.

“Hell, Buffy, you’re the only one,” Spike said. “And I’m not letting you go. Tell me what to do, I feel so bloody helpless.”

Buffy raised her head and looked at her feet. They were swollen, but the tell-tale streaks weren’t yet visible, and that was a good sign. “I don’t know of any medicine, Spike, maybe you could make a poultice or a compress to draw out the poison?” she said dropping her head back to his chest. His skin felt wonderfully cool against her burning cheek. “Open you shirt,” she asked him. “I want to be close to you, and you can cool me down at the same time.”

He complied and she settled herself back down again. She had no idea why she felt so calm, when death was almost certainly staring her in the face. Perhaps it was because she’d already reconciled herself to it? Last night, when Spike had bitten her in the carriage she’d been fully prepared for him to kill her, and maybe she was simply destined to die in this house in one way or another. A thought struck her.

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Spike,” she said. “I was the stupid one for going outside with cut feet.”

“And I started it by smashing the decanter and then frightened you into trying to run away. Everything I touch dies.” He spoke in a flat voice that lacked any emotion. Almost as if he didn’t have the energy left to even be scared.

“Apportioning blame isn’t going to help me, is it?” She told him. “Why can I never hear your heartbeat, Spike? It’s almost as if you don’t have one.”

“That’s nothing you need to concern yourself about right now,” Spike replied. “Can I get you anything? I’ve brought some water up.”

“That would be nice,” she said sitting up. The room tilted gently as she did so and she hugged herself because where she’d been hot, now she was suddenly too cold. People did survive this, but rarely. And it was in the lap of the gods whether she would or not. After the frenzy of the last few days this abrupt halt felt stranger than anything that had happened to her. “Spike I meant it when I said I wanted to stay with you, you know that don’t you?” She stopped to sip from the glass as he held it to her lips. “And I’m strong, I’ll fight this, because I really do want to be with you.”

“So will I,” Spike said. “Buffy, I’m going out, I promise I’ll be less than an hour.”

“No, don’t leave me here alone.” Buffy clutched at his arm and held him in place. “I’d be scared to be here alone.”

“I’ve got to go,” Spike said gently removing her hand from his arm. “I’ll find an apothecary. They have to have something that will help, and I need to go now, before this gets any worse.”

The panic was back, she could hear it in his voice, but there was a quiet determination there too. Whatever he did, she knew he did it in her best interest and he wasn’t the type who could just sit and watch her die. She lay back into the pillows as he left her to find his jacket and pull it on. Checking the inside pocket he pulled out a handful of coins, inspected them and muttered, “will this be enough?”

He wasn’t really talking to her so she didn’t answer him and he tucked it back into his pocket and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said and bent his head to kiss her lightly on the lips. “I hate having to leave, you know that, don’t you? But I’m not just going to sit here and do nothing.”

“Don’t be long then.” Buffy raised her hand in a wave and gave him what she hoped was a brave smile, which he acknowledged with a nod. “Spike,” she called him back. “Before you go. Do that thing where you look at me and make me feel sleepy. Perhaps it would help.”

Spike was back across the room and holding her in a crushing hug before she’d finished speaking and she clung to him because he was all she had right then. She also felt the strength and determination in him and knew she had to mirror that for him so that he could go and do what he had to do.

“Do it and then go,” she said. “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.”

He let her go, eventually, although it almost seemed that he wasn’t going to, then he sat for a long time just staring at her hand where he was holding it. “Buffy,” he said at length, in a quiet voice. “What if I told you I could save you, but that there was a great chance that you wouldn’t be yourself any more if I did?”

She rolled her head toward him. “What do you mean?”

Spike shook his head and wiped a hand across his face. “No, forget I said it. Look at me love.”

Buffy kept her eyes on his and tried to lose herself in his gaze, but she couldn’t. The burden of guilt that he was carrying was too evident in them and he looked in as much pain as she was. And the words he’d just said didn’t make any sense. Poor thing, she thought. How can I die and leave him here all alone? He is going to save me, but not with pills and potions.

“I’m not going to die, Spike.” She said it calmly and with conviction and her resolve stiffened as she heard the words. “Not going anywhere because you need me too much.”

“Shh,” Spike told her rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “Just be here when I get back. Now, look at me and relax.”

It didn’t work, as she knew it wouldn’t. They were too evenly matched just then, but she pretended to go into a daze and he seemed happy with that. Even so, he still seemed reluctant to leave and then suddenly he bent his head, whispered something to her, spun on his heels and strode out of the room.

The door closed with a loud click and she was left alone with only the sound of her increasingly laboured breathing to keep her company. He loved her. It’s what he’d said, only how could he know that when he’d just met her? But then again, she smiled as she remembered the intense way he’d said the words, this was Spike. He’d know because that was how he was. Burned in love, that much was evident, yet he bared his soul to her anyway, prepared to take the risk again.

Buffy closed her eyes and tried to conjure up his face. Rising fever muddled the images floating across her mind as they merged and morphed. Spike killing the sailor in the alleyway, His concern for her when he’d taken her virginity. The feel of his mouth on her, especially when he sucked her blood. Such a strange, compelling person, she thought. Like no one she’d ever met before, nor was likely to meet again.

No, she thought, managing a ghost of a smile. She certainly wasn’t going to die, not if Spike had anything to do with it.

---------------------------------------------------------------

William would have stretched himself out beside her and never moved again, even after she’d died. Being there and making her as comfortable as possible was all he could do because he knew that there was nothing else. One day science would find a cure for all the dreadful diseases that people died of on a daily basis. He could imagine that, but it would be too late for Buffy.

He even contemplated praying and knew that it would probably come to that when he reached the point of desperation. Maybe God would listen for Buffy’s sake if not his? Surely she deserved some mercy? She was after all an innocent in all this.

The demon was having none of it.

‘You’re not going to turn her, are you?’

‘No,’ Spike told it. ‘It’s not my decision to make.’

‘Always has been in the past.’

‘Perhaps that’s where I’ve been going wrong?’ Spike said.

‘What do you mean?’ The demon pushed forward and took a long hard look at the girl lying on the bed. ‘So, we’re to watch her die?’

‘Hell, I don’t know what to do.’ Spike turned his attention to her too as she stirred. ‘I just can’t take the risk, not with her. If one day is all we’re going to get together then so be it. I’ll just have to be happy with that.’

The demon started his version of a slow handclap. ‘Oh, very poetic, William. Romantic fool for love to the bitter end. And what if she survives? The turning issue is always going to be there. Will you really be able to watch her grow old in front of you and then die anyway?’

‘I told you,’ Spike said. ‘It will be her choice.’

‘But I don’t understand,’ the demon argued. ‘How does that make it different? Her choice or yours, she’ll still be a vampire and as you’ve learned, unpredictable.’

Spike propped himself up on one elbow and took Buffy’s hot hand in his cool one, lifting it to his face and realising just how much warmer she’d become in the last few hours.

‘The coachman,’ he told his demon. ‘He’s the only one who’s stayed remotely loyal.’

‘What of it?’

‘Don’t you remember?’ Spike said. ‘He came to me and asked to be turned, he was dying and he actually wanted to be made a vampire.’

‘Ahh, and you think that if Buffy asks it will turn out the same? William, she doesn’t even know that you’re a vampire yet, and when you tell her the most likely outcome is that she’ll run screaming from you, or die of fright.’

‘I know,’ Spike said. ‘I’m not going to spring it on her now, but if she survives I am going to tell her what I am.’

‘You’d let me meet her, talk to her?’

‘You mustn’t try to kill her.’

‘You’d share her with me?’

‘Would you like me to? Would it work?’

The demon became very quiet. Spike turned his attention to Buffy who had now woken up fully and seemed to be immediately aware of what was wrong with her. Watching her and the courage she showed, part of it, he knew was for his benefit, made him realise just how arrogant he’d become since he’d been turned into a vampire. He treated life with contempt and he sneered at death because he was immortal, or so he thought. But he was no more immortal than she was. Fewer things could kill him, but ultimately, death had control over them all.

And being with her just served to show up more strongly, the vulnerabilities that he’d learned to live with. There were days when he longed with a passion to be able to walk in the sunlight, even to the point where the few moments of pleasure it would afford him would almost be worth bursting into flames for. And the thought of spending eternity alone? It didn’t bear thinking about.

Leaving her alone was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but the demon was right. What purpose would watching her die serve? Better to do something, he thought as he made his way down a side street and carefully read the shop signs. He growled in frustration and took out his pocket watch. Half an hour had already passed and he still hadn’t found an apothecary. Replacing the pocket watch he decided that he was probably in the wrong part of town anyway and he hoped that the coachman was having greater luck in procuring some food. Bakeries were usually open at night, preparing the next day’s bread and the fruit and produce markets also worked nocturnal hours.

They could have just stolen it, but since the situation was desperate, and Spike had wanted to get back as soon as possible he’d given the coachman all of his spare cash and just had to hope that the man wasn’t going to disappear with it and leave him high and dry.

There was also the small matter of feeding himself.

‘I’m hungry,’ his demon grumbled.

‘I know,’ Spike answered ducking into an alleyway as a group of young men spilled out of a nearby public house. Too risky, he thought. Strong and fast as he was there was always the chance that one day he would be caught or pinned down by an angry crowd. Vampires liked to boast about their close encounters with pitchfork-wielding mobs, but it was always a possibility and now was not the time to get hurt, or caught.

‘I can’t risk it,’ he told the disgruntled demon. ‘We’ll feed later and if push comes to shove we’ll just have to stop off at a farm and eat one of the animals. Don’t want to get caught tonight of all nights.’

‘William…’

‘I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Now where the hell are all the apothecaries.’

‘No, William, stop where you are,’ his demon insisted in an agitated tone. ‘And listen to me for once. Can you feel what I’m feeling?’

Spike stilled suddenly aware of the posture that his demon had taken. And there was only one person that made his demon cower in that way.

“Angelus,” he murmured softly and shrank further into the shadows. The very last person that he needed to meet tonight.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Her brother was standing at the side of the bed.

“There you are,” he scolded her. “We’ve been so worried about you, you naughty thing. Now, up you get and let me take you home.”

“No.” Buffy tried to push him away, but her hand went right through him. She jolted awake with a start.

“Spike?” She called again, but got no answer. Looking around she tried to pinpoint where she was and then she remembered that she was in Spike’s bedroom and he’d said that he was going into town. How long ago was that? She had no idea how long she’d been asleep and when she tried to sit up and help herself to water the room span so violently that she flopped back against the pillows and closed her eyes again.

This was a just reward for her wickedness. Hadn’t her father always preached that there would be no escape from your sins. That they always caught up with you eventually.

Her brother was there again, but this time he was a little boy, eight years old standing before her, his expression serious.

Buffy covered her face with her hands. How were they to know how wrong it was? They were just two children finding solace in each other because they lived in a household where there was no joy.

”You’re so pretty, Buffy. Shall we be married when we grow up?”

Buffy reached out again for the cup. This time her fingers managed to close around it but there was no strength in them and it slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. It didn’t break and she tried to reach it but her senses lurched so badly when she moved that she lay back again and gave up. Spike would be back soon, how long had he been gone? He’d get her a drink when he returned and he’d cool her down because she was burning up. Wasn’t hell supposed to be a giant inferno? Perhaps she was there already because she’d been so very wicked.

He was there again, at the side of the bed. At first Buffy thought it was Spike back, they both had the same colour hair, but the man standing in front of her was shorter and more thick-set.

“Your not real,” she muttered “Can’t hurt me.”

“Let me do this, Buffy. You’re so beautiful and I want you so much.”

“I’m not listening,” she said turning away, but he was everywhere she looked. Buffy closed her eyes, but still she saw him.

“This is your fault, Buffy. Can’t you see you’re driving me mad?”

“Not my fault, I didn’t do anything. Leave me alone.”

“You little bitch.”

Buffy pushed in vain at the hand circling her throat. “You’re hurting me,” she said weakly.

“I’ll kill you, Buffy. If you ever let another man touch you, I will kill you.”

She was running, her breath coming in harsh gasps, a small bundle tucked under her arm. Her whole life distilled into what she could easily carry, and that was stolen from her within hours of her reaching town. Stripped bare of everything she’d ever known, all she had left was Buffy. And for the first time in her life she saw who she really was. A survivor. She’d thought it then and she remembered it now. Knew it was the most important thing that she needed to remember if she was going to get through this.

Hauling herself up, she pushed her hair out of her eyes and reached for the jug of water. Her hand connected with the cool glass and time seemed to slow down as it toppled from the table spraying luminous droplets of water into the air. The crash of the jug smashing seemed to come from a long way away, as if it was happening in another room, and Buffy stared wide-eyed at the small beads of water that seemed to hang, suspended in mid-air.

A black shape moved across the room and stood at the end of the bed.

“No,” she said pushing herself back against the headboard. “I’m not going to die.”

The shape extended its hand.

“No.” Buffy screamed out the word giving it every last ounce of energy and defiance that she had left in her body. Death wasn’t going to have her. She closed her eyes and gripped at the sheet with both hands, anchoring herself down and repeating over and over until she was delirious with it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“We’ve missed you, William.”

“Angelus.” Spike stayed where he was, back against the wall, head bent respectfully as his grand-sire approached him.

“Will you say hello to the ladies?”

Spike flicked a glance to the left and then to the right. On cue the two ladies seemed to appear out of nowhere. He bobbed them each a bow. “Darla, Dru. How was Europe?”

“Very tasty,” Darla said moving to one side of him.

“Mummy’s cross with you, William.” Drusilla moved to flank him on the other side and wagged her finger at him. “Should have come with us.”

“Yes, well,” Spike straightened up and looked at each of them in turn. “Been there, done that, didn’t agree with me.” He bowed again. “It’s been nice meeting you all again, now if you’ll excuse me I have business to attend to.”

“Our William’s got himself a sweet little girl.” Drusilla moved closer and sniffed his neck. “Smells of sulphur and silver and mouldy bread.”

Spike moved away from her. “Still bats in the belfry, I see,” he said narrowing his eyes. “Angelus.” He nodded to the older man who was watching him intently, a lazy smile on his face, and took two more steps away, carefully gauging how far he’d have to get before he could safely make a break for it.

Spike was fast, but Angelus had been a vampire much longer than he had and even with his demon at full force he was no match for his grand-sire.

“Family reunion, William m’ lad,” he said twisting Spike’s arm behind his back and throwing him at the wall. He threaded his hand into the hair at the back of Spike’s neck and mashed his face against the brick “Or have you forgotten who your family is?”

‘Let him have it,’ Spike’s demon urged him, its panic clearly evident now. ‘Don’t make him angry.’

The path of least resistance? For Buffy’s sake, Spike thought, reaching for his trouser buttons. The act itself didn’t bother him, Angelus had done this to him many times and although he was hardly a sensitive lover Spike still managed to find some pleasure in it. He really wished Angelus didn’t make such a special point each time of disfiguring his face though, but then that was Angelus for you. Always knew where to hit the hardest.

What bothered Spike more was the act of domination that it was clearly meant to symbolise. Something he’d been desperate to get away from these last few years. The reason why he’d left his new –found family in the first place.

“I’ve never liked you, Angelus,” he said in a conversational tone. Ignoring the pain in his cheek he loosened his trousers and braced both hands on the wall in a well-practiced drill “There, get it done.”

The larger man moved behind him and Spike heard the bones shift as his face changed. He tried to bring his own demon out, but the demon was having none of it, retreating as far back as it could go and stubbornly refusing to budge.

“That’s right,” Angelus said, his mouth hovering just above Spike’s neck. “Stay just as you are. Much more fun this way.” Then he sniffed. “So, who is she, this sweet little girl?”

“Last night’s dinner,” Spike said. “Bloody get on with it.”

Angelus knew just how to make it hurt in all the wrong places. When he bit him he always sank his fangs too deep and sucked too hard for it to be pleasurable. Inflicting pain was part of the art, he’d told Spike. But Spike had never had the patience to become the mirror that his Grand-Sire had hoped he would be. For Spike it was all about the chase, the capture and the kill. Brawling, rough and tumble and good sex to top it all off. Where Spike invariably killed his victims too quickly, Angelus could take days over it, obsessing over every nuance as he slowly tortured the poor souls to death.

Spike revelled in the violence of it all while Angelus invariably lost himself in the subtleties.

“Is she still alive?” he whispered running his thumb over Spike’s bloody cheek. “Or were you your usual impetuous self?”

“You know me,” Spike said gritting his teeth against the stinging in his neck. “Never manage to keep ‘em.”

“Without doubt the worst pupil I’ve ever encountered,” agreed the older vampire and Spike braced himself for another assault. “You see,” he said, “you have to know just how much blood to drink. How to weaken them just enough so that they can’t fight back. But not too much so that it’s not a challenge any more.”

Spike held his tongue. Now was not a time to fight for his pride, if Angelus was true to his form he would make his mark, take him and leave. This ritual humiliation was the price Spike paid for freedom from his family obligations and he understood that. Angelus had long ago given up trying to control him, seeming content to seek him out every now and then and remind him of exactly where he stood in the pecking order.

Dizziness started to overtake him as Angelus pounded into him and drank his blood and afterwards, when the three of them had melted away into the night as silently as they’d appeared, Spike sat slumped against the wall in the dirty alley, a handkerchief pressed to his neck and thanked fortune that he’d got away with it so lightly this time. And that Angelus hadn’t asked any more questions about Buffy

“I hate you,” he mouthed in the direction that Angelus had disappeared. And he did, with a passion. For reminding him what it was like to be a victim and for showing Spike what his own victims felt when he attacked them. It was one thing to see the terror, to hear the cries, to laugh at the pleas for mercy, but quite another to actually experience some of it himself. Damn, but it took the edge off hunting for weeks when Angelus did this to him.

He stood gingerly and pulled his trousers back into place, the need to get back to Buffy increasing with every moment that passed now. As he reached for his buttons a hand covered his and he jumped.

“Dru?” Bugger, he thought, cursing his demon who hadn’t warned him of her approach because it was still in retreat after the encounter with Angelus. Senses all awry, didn’t hear her coming.

Her hand lingered and then slipped inside his open trousers.

Spike looked down. “What are you doing.?”

“Haven’t you missed your mummy?” she said in a silky purr. “She’s missed you.”

“Leave it out, Dru.” Spike firmly removed her hand and carried on with the task of buttoning himself up. “How did you find me?”

Dru clicked her tongue. “Naughty boy, didn’t want to be found.”

“Bloody right, I didn’t.”

“Poor boy.” She moved closer and fingered his blooded face. “Let me make it better for you.”

“Thanks, pet.” Spike stood very still as she licked his cheek clean, knowing that this was the quickest way that it was going to heal. Dru was a funny mixture. Siren temptress and child, savage killer and madwoman all mixed up with this softer side. One minute she’d be holding a baby and telling it stories, the next, without so much as a pause in between, she’d sink her teeth into its neck and kill it.

“What did you mean?” he asked when she’d finished. “All that stuff about silver and sulphur?”

She laughed. “Little girl’s ill, am I right Spike?”

“Come on, Dru,” he said raising his own hand to her cheek. “If you came back to help me, then do it. What did you mean?”

Dru rubbed her face against his hand and giggled. “Angelus wants her for himself, but he can’t have her, can he?”

“No,” Spike said. “Do I need to find some sulphur?”

“Can I have her, then?”

“No,” he trailed his finger down the side of her neck and she arched back, baring herself to him.

“Would you like a taste, Spike?”

His demon shook its head, vigorously. Spike gave a small laugh, remembering the one and only time he’d drunk from Dru. “ No thanks, need to keep my wits about me. Come on love, if you’ve seen anything, then tell me. Is the sulphur for a spell or something?”

“Not a spell.”

“Then what?” Spike swallowed down his impatience. This was risky, if anyone could help him, then Dru could, but he knew that the longer he was with her, the more she was going to find out about Buffy. And he didn’t have time to sift through her ramblings for meaning tonight.”

“Concentrate, Dru,” he said stepping away from her because she was looking at him far too closely. “You said, sulphur and silver and mouldy bread?”

Dru leaned her head right back and looked up at the strip of sky visible above the narrow alley. “Will you come to the moon with me, Spike?”

“’Course I will, pet.” He watched her for a moment as she did one of her dances. “Are you listening to me, Dru?”

“You’re a cruel, bad man, Spike,” she said without interrupting her dance. “Left the little girl all alone and scared and lonely. Are you going to eat her, or make her into a vampire?”

“She’s already dead, Dru. If Angelus asks, tell him she’s already dead. Will you do that?”

“Alright.”

Dru carried on with her twirling while Spike backed away before the others came back for her. The thought of Angelus anywhere near Buffy made him want to shudder. She was just the kind of sweet thing to keep him busy for days before she died.

‘We were going to kill her too,’ his demon reminded him. ‘Why do you think we’re so different to him?’

‘Because we would have done it quickly and she would have known pleasure before she died. I’d have made sure of that.’

‘Oh, that’s laudable, William. A merciful killer are we now?’

‘Stop muddying the waters,’ Spike said, irritably. ‘I don’t have time for philosophical discussions now.’ He took out his watch again. ‘Damn, but I said we’d be home within the hour, I need to get back to her. What the hell was Dru on about?’

There was a district in town where the physicians practiced. A smart row of terraces decorated with polished brass plaques engraved with their credentials. Spike cursed himself for not thinking of it before. The apothecaries were more likely to have their shops there, near to the potential source of their incomes.

And when he was back at their arranged meeting place he saw, with considerable relief, that the coachman had been somewhat more successful in his task in procuring food than he had in finding a cure for Buffy.

“Good man,” he told him patting him awkwardly on the arm. “We need to get across town, then you need to get me back home as quick as possible.”

The coachman nodded and turned to climb back up to the driver’s seat.

Spike turned too, then he stopped. “Alex,” he said. “Do you remember who you were?”

The man nodded.

“You were dying, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you wanted to be a vampire?”

“I came into with my eyes open,” Alex replied. “Knew exactly what I was letting myself in for.”

“And that made a difference?”

“Wasn’t angry like the others, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Angry?” Spike waved him to carry on and climbed into the coach. Is that what it was? Anger at being forced to become a demon?

‘You didn’t exactly give them a choice?’ his demon observed.

‘But it wasn’t like that for me,’ Spike said, genuinely puzzled. ‘I don’t remember feeling angry.’

‘You were sired by a madwoman,’ his demon replied. ‘And I had to be lumbered with you.’

‘And I with you,’ Spike said leaning out of the window. ‘I’ve got to get back to her, can’t this thing go any faster.’

‘She’s probably already dead,’ the demon said. ‘Probably died scared and all alone, thinking you didn’t care about her.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Spike spat back at it. ‘I do bloody care. More than I’ve ever cared about anything.’

‘Then you should have turned her,’ the demon said. ‘I wanted you to turn her.’

‘I know,’ Spike said. ‘I know.’

---------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy fought hard to stay conscious, finding it more and more difficult to resist the deep waves of welcoming sleep that washed over her with increasing frequency. Several times she imagined that Spike was back and actually sighed with relief that he was here at last, but the figure who opened the door and walked across the room to her always shimmered and melted away just before he reached the bed.

Her brother flitted in and out, as did her father looking stern as always, and her mother weeping copious crocodile tears.

But the dark-clad figure at the bottom of the bed was her most constant companion. It sat quietly waiting as Buffy struggled to stay, every now and then holding out its hand in invitation.

When it did that Buffy shook her head and closed her eyes so that she couldn’t see it any more.

“I’m not coming with you,” she said gritting her teeth. “Not yet.”

Buffy kept her eyes firmly on the door, never failing in her certainty that her knight in shining armour was going to appear and save her.

The figure raised its hand once more.

Buffy turned away, but this time it was harder. “Where are you, Spike?” she whispered as the black figure hovered in and out of her vision. “Where are you?”

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Amongst the grimness of the evening’s events Spike actually found something to smile about. The sign in the Apothecary’s window that read,

It was invitation enough to get him in through the door, which was ridiculously easy to force, and once inside he let his demon come forward and scanned the dark interior.

Rows of jars in polished wood cabinets, all labelled with Latin names written in neat copper plate script. A brass scale on the wooden and glass counter. Numerous drawers, again labelled with words he didn’t understand. Latin hadn’t been his forte at school and he had no clue where to start.

Luckily for him, a few moments later, the apothecary himself arrived carrying an oil lamp which he put down on the counter top. He gasped when he noticed the broken door and stepped back straight into Spike.

“I need some Sulphur powder and some silver,” Spike told the terrified man. “Find it for me.”

Spike remained carefully behind him so that he couldn’t see his face and pushed him towards the glass cabinets. “I don’t have all night,” he said covering the man’s mouth with his hand because he could feel a scream bubbling up from him. “I’m not going to hurt you, just need the stuff.”

Remaining calm was difficult because his demon, having completely capitulated in the face of Angelus now needed to re establish its sense of self. Spike tried to push it back, but hunger and the man’s fear made it nearly impossible.

The strong preyed on the weak, that’s how it was. The natural order of things. The demon, who had been terrified, now wanted to terrify in return. William had been the victim and now he became the victimiser.

The man turned suddenly and nearly collapsed with fright when he saw what he was dealing with. Spike growled and hauled the whimpering figure in front of a row of jars. “Will sulphur work for blood poisoning?”

The man didn’t reply and for a moment Spike thought he’d killed him without realising it. He shook him hard. “I need something for blood poisoning. Get on with it.”

“I don’t have anything, the man said. A tonic maybe, but that’s all.”

“Fetch it,” Spike said letting go of him.

The man staggered forward, but instead of going towards the cabinet he made a lunge for the door.

Spike grabbed him by the collar, spun him round and cracked his head into the glass front of the cupboard. The glass splintered and the man groaned.

“Sulphur and silver,” Spike said barely hanging on to his temper. “Which ones?”

The man raised an arm and pointed. “Sulphur powder,” he said weakly. “And the silver is in that jar there, in suspension. What makes you think they’ll work?”

“I have it on good authority,” Spike told him. “What do I do with them?”

“Topical,” the man said. “To the wound. It’s the best advice I can give. Please don’t hurt me any more.”

Spike looked at him and the trickle of blood that oozed from the cut on his forehead. Only yesterday he would have done this without blinking an eye, not giving it a second thought.

‘She wouldn’t want this,’ William whispered to him.

‘We need to feed,’ his demon said. ‘We can’t go much longer.’

‘You’re right,’ Spike said as he cocked back his fist and cracked the man across the jaw. ‘Both of you are.’

The man crumpled boneless to the floor and Spike crouched over him, pulled back his collar and sank his fangs into his neck.

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‘I can’t believe you left him alive,’ the demon said angrily as Spike pushed open the front door.

‘I told you, we didn’t have time to finish him,’ Spike said swiftly climbing the stairs. ‘I don’t want to argue about this now, I’ve more important things to do.’

Spike raced towards his bedroom, but when he got to the door he stopped, suddenly paralysed with fear as to what he was going to find on the other side.

He placed a shaking hand on the door and listened.

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“What have you done to your face?”

He felt real this time, his hand cool and solid in hers. His arms circling her, his tears wet against her face where his pressed against it.

“You’re still here,” Spike said squeezing her so tight that she was having difficulty breathing. He realised it straight away and let her go.

“You’ve hurt yourself,’ she said in a raspy whisper and lifted a hand to touch his face. “Poor thing.”

Spike covered it with his, then raised it to his lips and kissed it. “Never mind me, how are you feeling? Any better?”

Buffy heard the unspoken plea behind his question so she told him what he wanted to hear. “A little,” she said. “Especially now you’re back.”

“You’re not a very good liar, Buffy,” he said with a sad smile. Words he’d said to her last night when she’d told him she was sexually experienced.

“I’m not lying,” she said holding on to his hand for all she was worth because she didn’t want to be left alone again. “What’s in the jars?”

“Something that might help. Can I see?”

It was agony as he probed and prodded at the wounds and when he turned to her there were tears pouring down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said wiping them away with his hand. “Got to get the poison out and then I’m going to rub the sulphur powder on. I know it hurts, but you’re brave, love. Just remember that.”

Endurance was a lesson she’d learned well. If there was one defining factor that had shaped her life, it was that. She’d managed eighteen years of it before she’d cracked under the strain, so surely she could endure this? For Spike’s sake, as much as her own.

Working with a grim determination he finished his task and then ripped two strips of linen from the sheet and wrapped up each of her feet. When she said she was thirsty he fetched her some wine and water, and when it became obvious she wasn’t going to be able to keep it down he held her as she retched into a chamber pot.

We’re like two children walking in the dark, she thought. Holding hands and surviving on pure instinct alone.

“Will it work?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he replied and pulled her into his arms. “But you’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”

Buffy frowned. She still couldn’t hear his heartbeat, but she might have been hallucinating it. She’d seen so many strange things in the past few hours.

The strongest bonds between two people are often made at times of great stress. And when death is staring you in the face you realise with perfect clarity just what is important. Death had whispered to her last night in the carriage and she’d quite prepared to go with it then. Because last night she’d had nothing left to lose.

What a difference a day had made, to both of them. She could feel the change in Spike, even though she still didn’t really know who he was, and she’d learned so much about herself since she’d met him that she almost felt like a completely different person.

“You must never leave me,” he whispered into her hair.

Buffy looked towards the end of the bed and realised with a start that the black-clad figure wasn’t there any more. Whether she’d imagined it ever being there, or not was irrelevant. The whole room felt different and the oppressive hopelessness that she’d started to feel was slowly lifting.

“I’m not going to, Spike.” She laced her fingers in his and squeezed with all the strength she had left. “Just hold on to me,” she said, “because I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

Tbc…

Thank you all for continuing to read and for the reviews. I made a big effort to get this chapter out quickly to make up for the cliffhanger ending on the last one. One day I will have a family life again LOL.
If anyone wants to vote for it in the Vampire’s Kiss reader’s pick poll then go here.
http://vampires-kiss.net/vkawards/award1.htm

Votes are greatly appreciated and really do make up for all the late nights spent writing… all the best, candy.

Chapter 10

After ten years of being a vampire and of revelling in the task of being death’s right hand, Spike now found himself entirely focussed on the saving of a single life. The outcome hung in the balance for three days until there was a slight improvement that gave him hope that she might make it after all. And now, one week later, Buffy seemed well and truly on the mend.

Whether it was the remedies that he’d found and so diligently administered, or their joint determination that she wasn’t going to die, he had no idea, although common sense told him that it was possibly a combination of everything that he’d thrown at the problem. He’d even resorted to a spell which he’d purchased from a strange looking old woman who claimed to be a witch, in return for some trinkets from the house.

And to solve his immediate money problems he’d broken into a bank that he’d used as when he was William and relieved the safe of a large amount of cash, because surviving on the money he stole from his victims wasn’t really an option now that he had Buffy to think about.

That had appeased his demon somewhat, but it was still in a mighty sulk over the fact that he hadn’t killed one of his victims since he’d met Buffy. Not knowingly, anyway. Whether they survived or not he’d left to chance, but at least he’d given them that chance.

‘She’d be proud of me,’ he told his demon, then he frowned because yet again, the porridge he’d been attempting to make had huge lumps in it and he couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong.

‘Of course she would,’ the demon said. ‘You only <i> nearly</i> killed them as you were drinking their blood. Yes, she’d be so proud.’

Spike ignored it. It was good that his most pressing problem at this moment was only one of lumpy porridge. Yes, he knew that Buffy could suddenly go downhill despite the fact that she seemed to be getting better. That happened with alarming frequency. But she was strong and Spike knew that if anyone was going to make it, then she would. Whether that was for his benefit was another matter entirely.

He tipped the contents of the pan into a dish and found a spoon to mash down the worst of the lumps. Then he took a moment to fill the pan with water to stop the porridge drying on, which it did very quickly, he’d found to his cost because housekeeping definitely wasn’t his forte.

Buffy was lying on the sofa in the sitting room and her face lit up when she saw him. Then her gaze went to the dish she was carrying. “Let me guess,” she said. “Porridge?”

“Do I denote a hint of sarcasm there?” Spike asked her as he set down the plate and spoon on the table at her side. “And it’s lumpy again too, what the hell am I doing wrong?” Lifting Buffy’s feet, he sat down on the end of the couch and propped them on his lap.

She picked up the dish and stared into it. “I think you might be over-cooking it,” she said. “But I don’t mind, really, how can I complain, after all you’ve done for me?”

“You never complain,” he said inspecting her feet and noticing with satisfaction that the cuts were healing nicely. A few surreptitious tastes of her blood had told him that it was returning to normal, but he’d been very careful to take no more than a lick while she’d been ill, not wanting to weaken her further. “First woman I’ve met that didn’t.”

“Then you haven’t met many women,” she replied with a laugh. “Have you any idea what women go through in life? And did you not wonder why so many women end up as invalids lying on couches all day? Why, my aunt had given birth to twelve children by the time she was thirty five. She is quite worn out, poor thing.”

Spike settled back, ready to enjoy the discussion. Buffy had a sharp mind and these heated debates that they’d taken to having were almost as much fun as the sex had been.

“So,” he said. “Are you saying that men should have babies?”

“If I had a hand in it, they certainly would,” she said fervently.

“Heaven forbid,” he countered. “I’m quite happy with things the way they are.” As he spoke he let his finger run absently under the hem of her dress, along her calf and he felt the shiver of excitement that fluttered over her skin. “We men get the best of the deal, no doubting that.” His body stirred into action as it picked up the signals she was sending him. Some obvious, others minute changes that only a vampire would sense, and he pushed her skirt up past her knees and caressed her again.

It was over a week since he’d made love to her, and over a week since he’d wanted to. Her illness had dampened his ardour completely, but now, as she sat smiling at him and chewing on her porridge, he felt it coming back. The need and the wanting. The wonder, and the plain, good–old– fashioned lust.

And he couldn’t decide which he liked best. Feisty, independent Buffy who’d been so eager to learn everything he had to teach her, and who’d given back as good as she’d got. Or the Buffy, who for the last week, had depended on him so utterly and completely for her every need that there was very little that she had left to hide from him.

Being with someone probably meant accepting a mixture of both, he decided as his hand pushed higher to trail along the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. There’d be times when you walked side by side as equal partners and times when one was dependant on the other. That was the nature of normal relationships. Poor William had wanted it so badly, and so, he was finding, did Spike.

Her eyes widened as his hand crept higher, his fingers tangling boldly in her wiry curls, slipping between her inner folds to find her already wet and wanting him.

Buffy gazed at him wide-eyed for a moment and then her expression softened. Laying her head back against the arm of the sofa she held out her arms to him in silent invitation.

“I’ve missed this,” Spike said and he leaned down to place a soft kiss on each knee. “Are you feeling better, love?”

“Me too,” she replied, in a low breathy whisper as he kissed his way higher. “And yes, I am feeling much better.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said. “You just lie still and enjoy it.”

“Spike,” she began but then she seemed beyond coherent speech as he found her clitoris and gave it all of his attention. He didn’t push her too hard, now wasn’t the time for earth shattering orgasms that left her weak and breathless. Rather he made her come in gently rippling waves that had her whimpering with delight.

It was enough for now, he thought, reining in his own needs. He may be brash and impetuous, but he was also capable of subtlety and patience if he put his mind to it. And it was a lesson well worth the learning, if her appreciative moans were anything to go by.

His demon shook its head. ‘Vampires don’t do cosy domesticity,’ it said matter- of factly.

‘Shut up,’ Spike said as he crawled up beside her to let her recover.

‘This is nothing but the calm before the storm, you realise that, don’t you?’ it said.

‘I do,’ Spike said grimly trying to hold on to the feeling of well-being that was rapidly evaporating under his demon’s insistence that he face the truth. Buffy wriggled herself comfortable onto his shoulder and he instinctively pulled her higher so that she wasn’t anywhere near where his heart should be beating.

‘They’ll find you, eventually, you do know that? And then there’s that other matter.’

That much was true. Angelus, her brother, the fact that he was a vampire, all things that were probably set to spoil this idyllic interlude. Dru always had an uncanny knack of finding him, no matter how hard he tried to hide. And Angelus did want Buffy, Spike already knew that. Knew that he’d want to assert his rights there too if he got the slightest whiff that she was still alive.

Her brother didn’t sound like the type to give up, either. Spike knew all about obsession, how it drove you on, no matter how seemingly hopeless your objectives.

And then there was the not-inconsiderable matter of him telling her he was a vampire. Several times he’d tried and the words had always frozen in his throat because they just sounded so plain ridiculous. His demon had told him that she’d run away screaming, but what she’d probably do was laugh. At the words, anyway. There’d be time enough for screaming when she saw his demon face.

But for now, none of that mattered. Fate had seen fit to have them meet and to spare her life and at this precise moment in time everything was perfect. No-one knew where they were, and his financial worries were, for now, sorted. Buffy had stopped asking questions about his so-called illness, probably because she’d had more pressing things to occupy her this past week, and so, for now, it wasn’t an issue.

And she wouldn’t be lying here with him, enjoying his attentions and completely at ease if she didn’t feel some affection for him, surely?

Stormy weather ahead? Almost certainly, but that was in the future. And this, her soft, warm body lying against him, was now. He’d fight tooth and nail to stop Angelus or her brother taking her from him, and then, what was left of his heart would probably shatter into a million pieces when she found out what he truly was.

All the more reason to make the most of every moment with her, and use this time to store up some much needed courage for the future.

“May I make love to you?” he asked her, needing her to say yes now more than at any other time since he’d known her. “Do you feel up to it?”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said touching her lips to his cheek. “And this thing that’s happened to me this week, it’s made me realise just how vulnerable we all are, Spike. How tenuous our hold on life is.”

Another kiss, her thumb smoothing over the spot where her mouth had been. She touched him in so many ways and he wanted to touch her just like that. To get so deep inside her that she’d never remember a time when he wasn’t there.

“Smile, love,” he said as cheerfully as he could manage. “Got a lot to be thankful for, and things are good right now. Be happy?” Tilting his head, he looked into her face. It was part request, part command so she smiled dutifully. Still too pale, though. Still looked too much like one of his victims.

Everything I touch dies.He wished he hadn’t said it. They were only words, but this week they’d both witnessed first-hand how powerful words could be. Giving voice to your convictions seemed to endow them with an energy of their own. They’d both repeated over and over that she wasn’t going to die and he was convinced it had to have helped to anchor her and keep her from slipping away.

“Tell me things are good, Buffy. Need to hear you say it.”

“They are, Spike.” She twisted herself so that she was facing him. “You’re right, I do have a lot to be thankful for, despite everything that’s happened. I’m still here with you, and that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Can you be happy, though? Here, with me in this dark, old house? Will it be enough?”

“It’s more than I thought I’d ever have. You care for me, don’t you Spike?”

That made him laugh and he still loved it. Her honesty and the simplicity of her words. Where William would have tied himself up in knots looking for the most pretentious word imaginable to express what he felt, she said exactly what was needed with hardly any at all.

“I love you.” He said it with a smile because he wanted her to cheer up and he kept his tone light because despite his best efforts the conversation kept turning back to serious matters. “But I’m not going to make love to you until you smile for me, so there.” He stuck out his tongue.

“I better had then.”

It was genuine. When she smiled, really smiled it was like his own bit of sunshine, and she was doing it now. Warming him all over, inside and out.

Spike started on the buttons of his trousers, but she sat up and stopped him.

“Let me do it,” she said flattening her hand over his and pressing them both down onto his hard cock. Each light twitch of her fingers made it jump and harden even more. Made him lift his hips and reach blindly for her. Suddenly the need was urgent.

“Make me come, Buffy. I need you to make me come.”

“Inside me,”

“Yes.” He tugged up her skirts while she opened his trousers and mercifully released him. He only had to move a little to encase himself in her slippery, wet folds. Lying side by side because he didn’t want to put any weight on her, her leg draped over his hip, he made love to her with the same care he’d shown her all week.

Loving and gentle because she made him remember that he once was. And more importantly, that he could be again.

His demon sighed and shook its head. ‘You can’t live in denial,’ it whispered.

‘Why not,’ Spike whispered back. ‘Bloody good place if you ask me.’

‘It’s not real,’ the demon insisted.

‘Yes it is.’ Spike pressed his lips to her neck and listened to the sound of her blood. He didn’t drink because she was too weak for that, but it reassured him. Everything sounded right again and just now everything wasright. And all they had to do was enjoy it, and each other, for however much time fate deemed fit to give them.

Lovemaking made her glow. A rosy tint of contentment and satisfaction that was infectious and made him feel it too.

“He’ll never find me here, will he?”

“No, you’re perfectly safe here.” Spike dipped his head and closed his mouth over a breast, wetting the material of her dress with slow circles of his tongue. Buffy giggled, then sighed.

“Shall I fall in love with you, Spike? Would you like me to?”

“I’d like that,” he said turning his attention to the other breast as he didn’t want it to feel left out. “Because you know I already love you and none of this is going to work unless you love me back.”

“So like a man,” she said stretching her arms above her head and arching against him. “Using logic to justify the most illogical feeling on God’s earth.”

“You’ve no idea how true those words are,” he said with a low laugh. “We make a bloody odd couple don’t we?”

Buffy tipped her neck to the side as he kissed his way back up to it, pulling her hair away from his mark. “Go on,” she said. “I know you want to.”

Two sips. He gave himself the limit before he even started. When she offered herself like that it was almost too much for him to control.

“And we don’t, Spike. Make an odd couple. We should, I suppose, but we don’t do we?”

“You’re right there, pet. Feels like a perfect fit to me.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” She wriggled herself comfortable against him once more, yawning as her head fell onto his shoulder.

Spike squinted down at her.

“I’ve tired you out, shall I carry you to back to bed?”

“No, I’m fine here. Vampires drink blood, did you know that? I read about them in that book I found in the library.”

“Don’t believe everything you read, love,” he said in as normal a voice as he could manage. Hoping she hadn’t noticed the way he’d jumped at her words.

“I know they’re not real, but with you liking the taste of blood, I just wondered.”

“What, pet?” If he’d had a heartbeat it would be going off the scale just about now.

“Nothing,” she said yawing widely. “Perhaps a lot of these myths and legends are rooted in fact. You like the taste of blood so people might make the logical leap to you being a vampire. I can see how these legends would arise.”

‘Now,’ his demon said. ‘Now would be a very good time.’

Spike laughed long and hard. “That is the daftest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Buffy blushed and batted his arm. “I know,” she said. “You don’t look anything like one, but you can’t blame me for thinking it when you suck on my neck the way you do.” She looked up at him suddenly concerned. “I haven’t offended you, have I? It was only meant in fun.”

Spike laughed again, rather forced and slightly hysterical this time. “Which was exactly how it was taken.” He laughed again, hoping he wasn’t overdoing it. “Bloody good imagination you’ve got.”

Buffy sighed sleepily against him and gave a little giggle. “Besides, vampires live in spooky old castles perched on mountain-tops. And they wear black cloaks and they sleep in coffins all day, That was in the book too.”

‘Now would be a really, really good time,’ the demon reminded him.

“Well, that rules me out,” Spike said “No coffins in sight and you wouldn’t catch me dead in a cloak.”

“You’d look very dashing in a cloak.” She muttered the words quietly as she fell asleep on him.

Spike stroked her hair to encourage her. “No, I wouldn’t believe me,” he said. “Go to sleep Buffy, you’re so tired you’re rambling.”

“Am not.”

“Yes you are,” he insisted firmly.

His demon groaned.

Love makes you reckless and it makes you blind. It makes you believe things you’d lost hope in. It fills the air with music and it tints the world the colour of roses. All Spike could see was her. And all he wanted was what they had now.

His demon shook its head, but William sighed and gazed at the object of his affection lovingly and thought that he’d never been happier than at this moment.

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By her reckoning, four weeks had now passed since Spike had bought her to the house. Four weeks, which, after the initial trauma, were turning into the happiest weeks of her life.

Spike was still something of an enigma. Often she awoke in the small hours of the morning to find herself alone in his bed. He usually re-appeared just before dawn and invariably made love to her. He could be tender and careful, but at those times, it was always a little wild, the passion having a slightly dangerous edge, as if he was struggling to hold something back. And because she’d decided to put her trust in him, Buffy never questioned it, neither did she ask him where he went.

Only one cloud darkened her horizon, her brother finding her, but that she left to fate, since there was nothing further she could do about it. She’d chosen to stay with Spike and believed that he’d keep her safe, and it was a decision she’d made by herself. Even though she knew that he’d find her if she left him, there was nothing to stop her leaving, if she wanted to.

So, the Pandora’s Box of Spike’s strange habits, she kept firmly closed.

Instead she kept herself busy with domestic issues and with returning in kind, the love and attention that he lavished on her.

And this last week she’d started to become preoccupied with another matter. The inevitable consequence of all this unrestrained lovemaking. She’d never been regular, and what little she knew about it told her that it was too soon to start decorating nurseries, but she was surprised by the depths of her feelings on the matter. Watching Spike as he stood at the edge of the small ornamental lake, throwing stones into the water, she could think of nothing that might make them both happier than conceiving a child.

With the long summer days it was quite late in the evening before Spike liked to venture out and she never did without him because the first time she had he’d been almost hysterical when she’d gone back inside, telling her that if she wanted her brother to find her then she was to go right ahead and parade herself in full view of anyone who might have wandered into the grounds. A reaction totally out of proportion to the threat. The house was isolated and the immediate gardens surrounded by a high brick wall that, at times gave way to a wrought iron fence with spikes on top. Impossible to scale for all but the very determined.

And no matter how quietly she sneaked up on him, he always knew she was coming. Rising from her bench at the top of the grassy bank she made her way down the slope and after three steps Spike turned and smiled at her.

“Come see the fish,” he said. “Would you like me to catch you one? I’m sure there are trout in here.”

Buffy took the hand he offered her and gasped as he jerked her toward him, deftly scooping her around the waist to stop her stumbling. He kissed the top of her head, and then peered into the lake. “Look, there’s one.”

“I can’t see anything,” she said, narrowing her eyes and trying to make out what he was looking at. “You almost seem to be able to see in the dark, Spike. How do you do it?”

“It’s not that difficult,” he replied with a shrug. “Just have good night vision, a lot of people do. Probably because I never go out in the sunlight.”

“Would it hurt you terribly if you did?” she asked him.

“Yes, it would. I’d burn. Look, there it is again, watch this.”

Spike let go of her and crouched down by water’s edge, dropping to his knees and trailing one finger just under the surface. He motioned her back when she tried to join him, placing a finger on his lips to tell her to be quiet.

One minute the fish was in the lake, the next it was wriggling and struggling in his hand. He held it out to her, proudly. “There you go, madam, dinner for tomorrow.”

Buffy dropped to her knees beside him. “That was truly amazing,” she said and then turned away as he took it by the tail and whipped it against the ground to kill it. She’d eat it, but she didn’t want a hand in that part of it. “I’ll leave the hunting to you, Spike, but I’ll cook it for us. I think there’s some dill in the herb garden, I could make a sauce to go with it, although it would probably be a waste of my time, since you hardly eat anything.”

“Well, I don’t have a very big appetite, come on,” he said picking up the fish, “got something to show you. Bought you a present.”

“Have you?” Buffy jumped up. “I love presents, what is it?”

“Come see,” he said and took her hand once more.

The stable block was separate to the house, tucked away to the side and that’s where he took her. The large arched doors were propped open and the carriage was parked in the entrance. There were stalls for far more horses than Spike owned and at the end was what looked like a hayloft, a half floor reached by a wooden ladder that was propped at its edge. The sweet smell of fresh straw mingled with the stale dank smell of a pile of old burlap sacks containing some rotting vegetable matter. Buffy wrinkled up her nose as Spike led her past them thinking that he really ought to ask Alex to clean the place up a little.

“Where does Alex disappear to all the time?” she asked Spike as he led her to a stall. “For a hired man, he doesn’t seem to do an awful lot of work.”

Spike shrugged. “He looks after the coach and horses. It’s all I need him for.” Then he opened the stall door and gestured proudly. “There you go, what do you think?”

Buffy stared, wide –eyed. When he’d said a present she had to admit that her first thought had been of jewellery. Then, when he’d taken her to the stables she thought that it might be a horse, although she couldn’t imagine why he would want to buy her a horse when he only ever allowed her out at night.

Two goats were the last thing she’d expected to see.

“Goats,” were all she could think of to say, and then she sidled behind Spike because the billy-goat was giving her a very strange look.

“Very observant,” Spike said wryly. “Thought you might like to have fresh milk on tap, as it were.”

Buffy came out from behind him, folded her arms and glared at the billy. “You are one very surprising man, Spike. Do you mean to take up farming?”

“Not really, thought you might appreciate it, that’s all.” Then he grinned. “Bet no-one’s ever given you a goat before, eh?”

“You’re right there,” she said. “And I’m sure the more I get to know you, the more you’ll keep surprising me.”

“Probably,” he replied nonchalantly. “Buffy, are you feeling alright? You were rubbing your stomach back there, is it hurting?”

Buffy glanced at him curiously. How had her seen her do that? It had only been a brief gesture, and she wasn’t aware that he’d been looking. “No, I’m fine,” she reassured him. “I was just thinking of something, that’s all.”

“Well, as long as that’s all,” Spike replied, then he turned back to the goats. “I knew enough that we had to get one of each so that they could produce a kid before we’d have milk, but you’ll have to milk her.”

“Me?” Buffy said, laughing at the notion. “I’ve never milked anything in my life.”

“Neither have I,” Spike said. “Do you think she’s already pregnant?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy said surveying the nanny goat. “They do tend to have large stomachs anyway.” She tilted her head. “Maybe, but time will tell, will it not?”

“I suppose so,” Spike said and he started to lose interest in the goats and instead turn his attention to the row of buttons that formed the front fastening of the new gown he’d bought her. He’d opened three before she even noticed. “So, fancy a tumble in the hay then?” he said with a wink.

And the familiar tingling had already started. Small waves of anticipation rippling across her skin where his fingers grazed it as he worked. When he felt her consent he gave up all pretence of stealth and instead turned to her and undid them swiftly and efficiently, all the while gazing into her eyes and holding her in place.

He didn’t need to do that any more, she wasn’t going anywhere. Wasn’t going to run as she’d tried to do on her first night in the house. A night that seemed to belong in another story, it was so far removed from where they were now.

She gazed back, her own fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt, mimicking his actions and undoing it with practiced ease. It was no less erotic when they did this, perhaps even more so because they knew exactly what they were doing and why. Knew exactly where it was leading and he liked her boldness in this, she knew because he’d told her. Liked it when she took an active part instead of just letting him do things to her and he loved it when she sidled up to him and suggested that they make love. It seemed to excite him more than anything when she told him in deeds as well as words how much she wanted him.

“So, what were you thinking about?” He said it casually, at the same time slipping the dress over her shoulders along with the straps of her camisole and then bending to kiss each curve as he exposed it.

Buffy tipped her head to the side to give him better access. She was getting used to this. He could be an intensely focussed lover, seeing nothing but her and her needs, but not when he had something on his mind. He was asking for reassurance and she knew he wouldn’t properly rest until she gave it. Knew that he still feared that she was either going to disappear, or die on him.

“I’m fine, Spike.” She tipped her head again as he kissed his way to her other shoulder. “I was just wondering if I might have a child one day.”

Spike froze, only for an instant before resuming his kisses, but she felt it. Surely he must want a child? Didn’t all men want an heir to carry the family name?

Then she realised that she didn’t even know what the family name was.

“No need to worry about that,” he said pulling the dress down and freeing her breasts. “I won’t get you pregnant.”

“Oh.” It came out before she realised that she probably shouldn’t have said it out loud nor sounded so disappointed.

“Thought you’d be pleased about that,” he said and bent his head, his hands holding her in place for the attentions of his mouth and tongue.

She didn’t say anything and Spike continued to suck and nip at her sensitive skin, skilful fingers fluttering over one breast while his mouth worked a cool, wet trail across the other. He worked diligently for a few minutes, then he looked up.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“What?” Buffy shook herself out of her musings. The way he’d dismissed her comment so casually had thrown her somewhat and she’d only been half aware of his attentions. He couldn’t give her a baby? The illness perhaps? And he didn’t even sound sorry not to be able to. She, on the other hand was more disappointed than she ever thought she would be by his words, and she scolded herself for it. Scolded herself for already having imagined it as real, the living image of one or other of them.

“You don’t want children then?”

“I can’t, Buffy, give you a baby that is.” He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “Why, did you want one?” He sounded surprised when he said it, as if the implications of his words had just dawned on him.

Buffy felt herself blushing and tried to turn away, but he stopped her by circling his arms around her and holding her in place.

“Buffy,” he began, then he didn’t seem to know what else to say. When she tried to pull up the straps of her camisole he stopped her and then he tried again. “I’m sorry if that’s what you were expecting from me.”

She tried to step away again, by now thoroughly embarrassed at having run on to possibilities that he seemed disinclined to offer her, and she was partially successful. He had her again before she’d gone two steps, his fingers under her chin, holding her face so that it was tilted towards his and she had no option but to look at him.

“Look at me, love, and listen carefully. I’m not saying this very well and I don’t want you to think I wouldn’t want this, with you, if I could. I’d always thought I’d have children, an heir to carry the family name, a daughter to indulge, but I can’t.”

Buffy stayed where she was, trapped in his gaze and wondering at the sadness that she saw there as he made his speech. She’d mistaken it for callousness, but it wasn’t that. He gazed back for a few moments, his eyes scanning her face, taking in every expression and emotion that moved across hers, then he continued in a quiet voice.

“If that’s what you want, love, and I wouldn’t blame you if you did, then you’d better leave me now, because you’ll never have that with me.”

He hid it well, the pain under the mask of bravado and there was almost a challenge in his voice as he spoke. As if what he was really saying was that she had to realise by now, that he wasn’t a normal man and she had to make her choice about whether she could live with that, once and for all.

She could also see how many pieces his heart would shatter into if she said what he was obviously dreading she would say. But she already knew, with perfect clarity which option she would choose. And what she was prepared to give up, to be with him.

“Then we’ll just have to adopt a couple, or three, or four.” She managed a genuine smile because the look of surprise on his face at her response made her want to laugh out loud. And because she’d only just realised that they’d had the whole of this very serious conversation in the middle of the stable, under the very suspicious gaze of the two goats and with both her breasts hanging out of her dress.

“You are the most surprising woman I’ve ever met,” he said after letting out a long sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to leave him over it. Then he spun her around and pushed her towards the ladder. “Hayloft now, woman,” he said urging her forward and she could see that he was already working on the buttons of his trousers.

“But Alex might come in to see to the horses.”

“And he’ll know better than to interrupt us, now climb that ladder,” Spike ordered.

So she did, and then she was tumbling beneath him, giggling as he pulled her top right down and freed her arms. She did the same to him and slid his shirt eagerly away and he stopped momentarily to strip it off and throw it away from him, in a trademark gesture.

“I love it when you do that,” she said flattening her palms against his smooth, hairless chest. “Makes me think that you really want me, that you can’t get to me fast enough.”

“You’d better believe it woman, now, let’s get this dress off you.” He started to tug it further down, but she stopped him.

“No, let me leave it on. You might not worry about Alex finding us, but I do. Besides,” she said with a teasing wriggle, “do you not think that it is quite erotic to leave some clothing on so that something is left to the imagination?”

“I have a very good imagination,” he said raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Slide your skirt up slowly then, and let me watch, because I love it when you do that.” He sat back on his heels and continued with his unbuttoning. “Come on, wench, get on with it.”

“Wench?” Buffy giggled again. “You’ve been reading entirely too many penny novels,” she said and then she did as he’d asked her to always surprised at the effect doing this for him had on her as well. A heated flush crept over her skin as she revealed it to him inch by inch. Then she lifted her foot and slid her toes slowly down his chest. He caught it and brought it to him mouth.

And his eyes did that strange thing that they sometimes did when they seemed to glow a deep amber.

Spike growled against her foot, put it carefully down, then slid both his hands the entire length of her legs, sweeping his fingertips over the inside of her thighs, teasing the soft skin and then burying themselves in her hot, wet, centre..

She was more than ready for him, but before they did this she knew that there was something she had to say. No matter how much she told herself it didn’t matter, there was always going to be a barrier between them if they weren’t entirely honest with each other.

“Spike,” she said placing her hands over his. “I want to ask you something before we do this. And I think you need it as much as I do.”

“It was almost as if he knew what she was going to say. He nodded, his lips pressed together as if he was bowing to some inevitable truth. And she could see that he was steeling himself for the revelation.

“I told myself that I didn’t need to know, because it didn’t matter who or what you were.” She sat up and put her fingers on his cheek, gazing into eyes that had turned back to blue, and held him there. “And if you don’t want to tell me this secret of yours, then don’t, I’ll stay anyway. But, wouldn’t you rather that I stayed, knowing what’s wrong with you. Knowing everything about you, no matter what it is and still wanting you. Wouldn’t you rather have that?”

“Of course I would,” he replied. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“Le me be the judge of that,” she said trying to make out the look on his face. It was almost one of shame, she thought. “Spike,” she reassured him, “I already know you’ve killed people and I’m sure you only did it because you had to. I’m not going to judge you. And what could you possibly have to tell me that is worse than you are a murderer?”

“Oh, it’s a lot worse, love.”

Again there was the challenge in his voice, and the terror. As if this was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

“Whatever it is, I won’t mind,” she said keeping hold of him because it felt as if he was going to bolt clean away. He grabbed her hand suddenly and kissed it fervently.

“Let me make love to you first, and then I’ll tell you what’s really wrong with me. And if you want to go then, I won’t stop you.”

“I won’t want to leave, Spike. As I didn’t when you told me you couldn’t give me children. No matter what you say.”

Spike pulled her to him almost roughly, desperation making him hold her too hard, so that she knew she was going to bruise, and kiss her for too long so that she was gasping for air. It was almost as if he was trying to tell her without words what he was.

He pushed her down on the thin bed of straw and slammed into her hard making her cry out his name and then he stopped and just looked at her for a long, long moment, and she realised with a fluttering heart that this was it. The moment she’d asked for had come and he was about to tell her whatever it was that was so terrible a secret that it kept him hidden in the dark, in this old house and away from everything and everyone.

And so like him to want to tell her while they were doing this. While he was holding her to him as closely as two people could possibly get. She slipped her arms around his shoulders to show him that she was with him, no matter what. Felt his hips pushing into hers, as he tried to get even deeper inside.

“I want you to see, what I really am,” he said at last.

“I already know.”

“No, you don’t,” he said sadly. “You have no idea.”

Her nerves at what he was about to reveal completely evaporated at the naked expression on his face just then. She’d thought herself in love with him, but she hadn’t known how much, until now. “Tell me,” she said, “I want to know everything.”

What he did next should have been the most shocking thing she’d ever seen in her life. When the bones of his face slowly rearranged themselves into what looked like a monstrous mask, she tensed, but more in surprise than anything. He looked away as soon as he’d done it and refused to look at her until she touched his deformed features and gently guided him back.

“See what I am?” he said in a thick, lisping voice that she’d heard before.

He had her fast and he wasn’t about to let go, but then, neither did she want him to. Buffy closed her eyes so that all she could feel was Spike without the distraction of what he was, or had been, or even what he was going to be in light of this revelation. It still felt like him. She opened her eyes, slowly.

“Why wasn’t she shocked? Horrified, even. Why wasn’t she beating him off and running screaming into the night?

Because, just as she’d heard the voice before, now she realised that she recognised the face too, in momentary flashes that she thought she’d imagined. Here and there, and in her dreams she’d already known this part of him existed, and it all fell into place. And she could still see Spike in there, and William and whoever this was looking at her now, all of them pleading with her to understand.

Again, time seemed to have slowed down and stretched out painfully thin. The two of them at a moment that would either make or break them, and all depending on what she did next.

“What are you?” she said, her voice shaking. “Tell me.”

And he did. Doing something that left her in no doubt. Opening his mouth he showed her two sharp teeth, then he bent his head and pushed his face into her neck. She gave a sharp gasp as they pierced her skin and he sucked, three times, long and hard making her blood careen around her body in a mad frenzy with every pull.

Pictures flashed through her mind. He’d bitten her in the coach, and sucked her blood, but strange as she’d thought it was, she’d never made this connection. Because it was too fantastic even to think about.

When he pulled away, there was a throbbing ache where his mouth had been and another between her legs where he’d withdrawn and pushed back into her just as he’d bitten down. Her blood streaked his lips and a thin line of it escaped to trickle down his chin and drip onto her breast. He lowered his head and licked it off carefully and reverently, telling her something when he did that too.

And, stunned as she was at the revelation she knew that she needed to say, or do something now, while he was like this to show how grateful she was that he’d had the courage to show her.

He dipped his head and she jerked in his arms, thinking that he was going to bite her again, but all he did was clean up the new wound that he’d left her.

“Why aren’t you shocked?” he asked her, still holding on as she struggled to relax.

“Spike, let go, you’re hurting me,” she replied. He was still in there, no matter what he looked like now and to her relief he did let go. But he stayed where he was, one arm braced on either side, still buried inside her and still in demon face.

Or whatever he was when he was like this.

Buffy lifted her hand and touched him again. The demon flinched, then growled softly. “Because I think I already knew,” she said. “It was right here, under my nose, and I just wasn’t seeing it.”

“You should be scared of me,” the demon said.

Buffy kept her gaze as steady as she could, because she could feel the panic rising in her now. Spike was a mixture of William, and this other thing that lived inside him, but William was no longer anywhere to be seen. The demon tilted its head from side to side, scanning her face with its yellow eyes as it appraised her and she forced herself to stay still and willed herself to be calm.

“Do I need to be?” she asked it.

There was a long silence during which Buffy fought hard to stop herself from trembling too much and the demon continued with its careful scrutiny. Eventually, to her great relief it shook its head and something of the Spike she knew returned to its demeanour as the bones started to shift back to his normal face.

“No,” she said. “Don’t change back.”

He stopped, part Spike, part demon now. A question in his expression.

“Stay as you are,” she said pulling him back down to her. “I want to tell you something and this is the best way I know of expressing it. This will let you know how I feel about this better than any words could.” She shifted her hips, pushing herself flush against him and felt him harden instantly.

“Stay as you are,” she said. “And make love to me.”

Tbc…