Chapter 11

"Could you make me into a vampire, Spike?"

"If you wanted me to." Spike stared up at the night sky. William wanted her human, his demon wanted her a vampire, and it was driving him insane. Since his turning, there'd been no question that a vampire was what he was. The human part of him had fallen away so quickly that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be one. Until now. Maybe that was why the human was winning this argument.

"I'm not asking you to, just wondered if you could."

Spike rolled his head to look at Buffy who was lying beside him on the grass and he tried to picture that perfect profile distorted by ridges and bumps, her teeth elongated into fangs. He remembered how surprised and revolted he'd been the first time he'd seen Dru change. And then, later when he'd realised that there were advantages to being a vampire that went beyond the obvious, how excited it always made him.

"I don't have much luck with it."

Buffy turned to him so that they were facing each other. "Oh? How's that?"

"Well," Spike laughed to himself. "I keep forgetting that when they rise, they'll be evil vampires. Gets me every time."

"But Alex isn't so evil, and you turned him. Am I right?"

Spike slid an arm under Buffy's head and pulled her onto him. "Grass is damp, don't want you catching a chill. Do you want to go in?"

"No Spike." She made herself comfortable and pressed a kiss, through his shirt, onto his chest. "I want to have this conversation, and you keep trying to avoid it. We said we were going to be honest with each other, and I need to understand what this will all mean. It's not every day that your lover announces he's a vampire now, is it?"

"You can't blame me for not wanting to have it," Spike said. "I'm just terrified that you're going to leave me. All the others did."

"Were there many, others?"

He looked down at her, then buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. "I love the way you smell."

"So, you're not going to answer that?"

Her fingers were fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. She'd opened one and Spike willed her to carry on. He couldn't just smell her hair, her arousal was overwhelming his senses and he knew what she really wanted. But she had to be the most persistent woman that he'd ever met and he knew that she wouldn't give in until he'd told her what she wanted to know.

"William had no luck at all in love," he said at length, because she wasn't going any further until he'd told her, and he was in the mood to be seduced tonight. They'd come out here to make love under the stars, but she was too much like him, wouldn't give her attention to it until she'd got all these questions out of the way. "Spike hadn't either, until he met you."

"Spike," she said, her tone reproachful. "Don't tell me you hadn't had many women before me, because I won't believe you. It was obvious you were very experienced in these matters."

"Maybe I'm a fast learner? And anyhow, I was talking about love, not sex." Spike knew full well which way the conversation was going. There were things she needed to know and things he didn't want her to know. How was she ever going to understand about all the people he'd killed? All the innocent young girls? "Are you going to seduce me, or not? I'm ready and willing," he said trying for a leery grin, but not sure that it was coming out that way. For emphasis he took her hand and flattened her palm over his the front of his trousers. "See, what you do to me? Come on, woman, get on with it."

She sat up.

"Would it help if I said please?" Spike sat up too and put his arm around her shoulders, needing to be close because it scared him when she put distance between them.

She leaned back against him and rubbed the top of her head against his chin. "I'm sorry, Spike. I have so many questions in my head. So much to sort out."

"You're going to leave me, aren't you?" he said miserably, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. It made him hold her tighter even though he'd told her she was free to go at any time. They hadn't had to put that promise to the test yet and he found himself wondering what he'd really do if she decided to go. Would his demon just take over then?

Her hand on his arm calmed him a little and she turned her head and tilted it upwards for a kiss. When he finally released her she lay back in his arms.

"I'm not going to leave you, Spike. Didn't I tell you I loved you?"

"It worries me that you will, love. Couldn't bear it."

"I know. So talk to me and then," her hand was resting on his thigh and she moved it, very slowly, sweeping it upwards and round to the curve of his buttock. She squeezed lightly and he pulled her back, hard against him as his blood boiled.

"Then you'll what, love?" he said dropping his mouth to her neck and starting a line of kisses that worked their way to her shoulder. "You make me remember what it was like to be hot, do you know that?"

"Spike." She didn't finish her sentence, because she didn't have to, her body told him everything he needed to know and he knew that if he pushed for it just a little harder, she would give in. Stubborn she may be, but she was also human. Spike sighed heavily and dramatically.

"You know why I don't want to have this conversation with you. You're not going to like the answers."

"I've chosen to love a vampire," she began.

"Not strictly true," he corrected her. "You fell in love with me before you knew I was a vampire."

"Yes, but I stayed, didn't I? When really, I should have run away screaming."

"So, why didn't you?"

"Because I love you, I suppose. I still really don't understand it, but I think that you shouldn't look for perfection in people or you'll be disappointed. All I felt when you revealed what you were was pity, for you. Sorrow that you'd had to endure that."

As she spoke her hand continued with its restless exploration and Spike felt himself moving to the edge of his control.

'She's leaving us,' his demon told him, a note of panic in its voice. 'Can't you feel it?'

'Not going anywhere,' Spike reassured it wishing that he could know for sure that it was true.

'Take her back to the house and lock the door,' the demon continued. 'And lie through your teeth, because these questions of hers are getting dangerous.'

"Keep doing that, love and I'll have to rip your dress off and ravage you right here," he said tipping her back so that he could look into her eyes. Bending his head he kissed her breasts in turn, leisurely circling each nipple with his tongue before sitting her up again. "Would you like me to do that?"

She didn't have to answer. Vampire senses told him that she had little control left too. Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated by the darkness, and by the desire he ignited in her. Her skin rippled and tingled with it, heating up every time he touched her. And her blood moved to the rhythm of his caress, wildly surging around her body and making his demon tremble with anticipation.

And still she resisted him.

"My god, woman," he said, not too unkindly. "You're absolutely determined to do this, aren't you?" Firmly, he set her away from him and folded his arms to keep them still. "You sit there and don't move. You're just too bloody distracting. And when you've done I'm going to take you back to the house and give you such a seeing to that you won't be able to stand for a week."

"Is that a promise," Buffy said raising her eyebrows, feigning shock.

"Count on it, love. If you don't frustrate me to death first, that is."

"That's one of the things I've been wanting to ask you," Buffy said warming to her subject. "Vampires can be killed, can't they?"

"Yes, but only in certain ways."

Buffy made herself comfortable, staying out of his reach as he'd asked her to. "I want to know everything, Spike. This is only going to work if you can be honest with me. I need to know."

Spike nodded.

"Thank you," she said plucking at a stalk of grass. "Now let's start with this. If you were going to make me into a vampire, how would you do it?"

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<i>You'll never know how much I want this. For you to join me in the dark. I'm a demon and they say we are incapable of love. But what do they know? Perhaps this isn't love. Perhaps it's just a desire to have and possess. That would be more in keeping wouldn't it?

William loves you. You should see him, sighing and dreaming over you. When you're within his sight all he does is gaze at you and when you are not he is forever looking for you and wondering where you are. You're his link to humanity and I know what he's afraid of. That if you go then he won't exist anymore.

He wants you, but so do I. He wants to be yours, but I want you to be mine. He'll take care of the soft, sweet kisses, but I'll leave your lips swollen and trembling and aching for more. His touch will be tender and gentle, but even though my blood is cold, my hands will burn you.

He may touch your heart, but I'll touch you in places you never dreamed existed. He'll ask for that heart, but I'll demand your soul.

You have no idea what you have here, little girl. No idea what you've done. Hell is screaming out in protest and the heavens are laughing.

Have you an idea what you've done?</i>

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"Spike?" Buffy waved a hand in front of his face and he started then blinked. <i>Please don't ask me,</i> he thought frantically. <i> Too tempting. Just thinking about it, what we could have if only I could be sure. I can't take the risk. Please don't ask me.</i>

"You looked as if you were in a trance, Spike." She dipped her head to look into his eyes. "Are you alright?"

Spike rubbed his face with his hands and pushed back his hair. "Yes," he said wearily. "We're alright. What was the question again?"

"I asked how vampires were made."

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<i>No, you didn't love. You asked how I would do it if I turned you. And William won't listen to this. Won't even contemplate it. But I'm a demon, I've already got it planned. Spike only has to give the word.

First, I'd make love to you. Or perhaps I should say I'd have sex with you? I'd take you to the heights of passion, until you were so drunk with it that you didn't know who you were any more. And then, just when you thought you'd had it all, I'd move your hair aside and you'd tilt your neck and offer yourself to me because by now you'd be powerless to resist.

William would want one last moment to gaze into your eyes before I killed you. What would he see? Terror or acceptance? Would you ever come to this willingly? Would Spike ever let me take you, unwilling?

Willing or unwilling, my teeth would find their own way to the blood and it would only hurt a little, I'd make sure of that. For you. A sharp sting, but not one you hadn't felt before. Then the mad frenzy of your blood flowing out of you and into me. Taking your life and giving it to me while my hands roamed your body and made you cry out for more, even as you were dying.

Then, when your heart was fluttering, in its last, vain attempts to keep beating, I'd make you drink from me. My blood and my face would be the last thing you remembered before you died.

Then I would wait, quite possibly with a terror I'd never known before, for you to rise. And then I'd know. What I'd done. What you'd become. Then I'd know whether I was to live, or die. Because if I ruin you in that way, then we all die. Spike will show you the same mercy he showed to his mother, but it will be the end of him too.

The end of all of us. </i>

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"Spike? Are you going to tell me?"

"Not now." Spike raised his hands and shook off the demon. "Don't make me say it. I don't want to turn you, Buffy. You wouldn't be you any more, and it's you I love."

She moved then, despite him having told her not to, and her arms went around him. "Not even if I asked you to?" she whispered.

"Don't do that, love. Don't ask."

He held onto her with such desperation that she twisted herself into his lap, getting as close as she could. "I don't think I'd like to be a vampire," she said pressing her cheek against his. "But where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us here and now," he said. "The future is just something to worry about. We have this, and we have it now. We should listen to it, and hold on to it and just love each other while we can." He couldn't keep the bitter tears out of his voice, neither did he try. "It's all we have," he said. "All we'll ever have."

Buffy raised her head and kissed him. She did it gently, she did it carefully, and she did it with love. As if she was aware of how fragile he was just then. Of how he would shatter at the slightest pressure. Everyone has their limits and this was his moment. Sometimes all you want to do is just lay down your head and not take another step. You just want someone to catch you as you fall, and she did.

"Then it makes all other questions irrelevant," she said with a wisdom that went beyond her eighteen years. "I was going to ask you how you felt about all the people you'd killed. Whether you were going to go on killing. But what does it matter? I'm finding I'm selfish, Spike. I want you and I've made that decision."

She managed a small laugh as he stared, and listened incredulously to her speech.

"Have you any idea," he said framing her face with his hands. "Just what you've done to my whole existence? I haven't killed anyone since the day you nearly died."

"I'm going to save you, Spike. You still want me to, don't you?"

All he could do was nod and press his forehead against hers. As a vampire he knew all about living in the moment and seizing opportunities. About not caring about the future and forgetting the past. As a human he'd done nothing but worry about past mistakes and fret about what the future might bring. It was an uncomfortable feeling and one, which he'd been glad to shed. But here it was, happening all over again.

"Don't think about it," he said. "If we start thinking about it we'll never move from this spot. I can feel you. Your heart beating, your blood flowing and you feel warm and solid. Tell me you can feel me."

"I can, Spike." Her hands tightened on his arms. "You're right here, with me."

"Tell me it's enough."

"It's more than enough." Buffy stood up and held out her hand. "Come on, I need you to love me, Spike. Tonight more than at any other time."

"If you reach out with enough love, one day you might touch the stars," he said quietly.

"Did you write that?"

Spike pressed his lips together and nodded. "In another life."

"Life what we make it, my love."

"Not always," he said. "Sometimes it takes you places you don't want to go."

"Then all we can do is try," she said. "Give it our best effort, and hope that we'll prevail."

"You dazzle me, Buffy."

He still hadn't moved and neither had she. Framed by moonlight and a sky full of stars she stood before him like the angel of his salvation. It was a slender thread to clutch at, he knew full well that he deserved no less than the hottest fires of hell for his crimes, but how could he not reach out for this little bit of heaven on earth?

"I believe that you were once a good man," she said in a soft voice. "And you can be once again. I believe it, Spike."

"I'm a vampire," he said. "A demon. There's nothing good left in me."

"You can love, and that's what's going to save you. What wouldn't you do for love, Spike? For this?"

"Nothing," he said. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"Nor I for you," she replied in a calm steady voice. "Have you any idea what you've done for me already. How much you've made me love you?"

"Enough words," he said, and took her hand. But he didn't get up. Instead, he drew her down and rolled her beneath him. "Show me," he whispered. "And make me feel it. Please. Don't ever stop making me feel it."

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"Spike, come quickly."

Spike looked up. "She's had it?"

"The kid, yes she has, come see."

Buffy threw him the old leather coat he used to stop himself from burning in the sun and he draped it over his head. Then he wasn't going fast enough so she pulled him after her, anxious for him to witness the miraculous event. When they got to the stables she made him stop and promise to be quiet and together they tiptoed in.

"Isn't it sweet?"

"Looks very much like a baby goat to me," he said dryly.

"Yes, but they're so endearing aren't they?" Buffy tilted her head and surveyed the two goats, surprised at the stab of jealousy she felt that even a goat could have a little one to love and she never would. She put the thought firmly from her mind and turned to Spike. "So, when do you think we can start milking her?"

"I've no idea," he said moving up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "I'm surprised they're all still alive."

"Well of course they're all still alive. Would you have like to have been a farmer?" she asked him.

His hands crept higher. "No, not really. It's very tasty, as I can remember."

Buffy pushed them down again. "What is?"

"Kid."

"Spike!" She turned, appalled. "You're not suggesting we eat it, are you?"

"Only if it's a male. If it's female we'll keep it for breeding."

"How could you say that? Don't listen, Victoria, he doesn't mean it."

"Victoria?" Spike chuckled and leaned his chin onto her shoulder. "Let me guess, the big guy's Albert."

"Of course," Buffy said, and we are not eating their baby."

Buffy felt him lifting her hair and then he was nuzzling at her neck. "No, Spike, I have jobs to do," she protested.

"Like what?" he asked without stopping what he was doing.

"Bread to bake, the house to clean."

"This is more important," he said sweeping her off her feet. "I'll be quick, then you can get on with your chores."

"<i>My</i> chores?" she said arching an eyebrow.

Spike narrowed his eyes. "You have some strange ideas, woman. You're dangerous, do you know that?"

"Put me down, Spike," she commanded him tugging at the arm holding her so securely. "I really need to make some bread."

"Spoilsport," he said, but put her down as she requested.

"Come make yourself useful and help me with the flour sack," she said and skipped ahead of him. "You may not have to eat, but I do."

"Very well," he grumbled and picked up the coat looking every bit like a sulky little boy who'd had his toys taken away.

"I'll make it up to you," she said and winked at him coyly over her shoulder. Then she lifted up her skirts and took off across the yard and towards the house. He always caught her before they were more than halfway across and it always brought his demon out. It was something about the chase, she'd decided and he didn't seem to be able to help it. The first time she'd been surprised, but then she'd realised that this was a good way to get to know it. Spike seemed to have control over it and the sex was nothing short of phenomenal.

He had her around the waist and ran the last few steps into the entrance lobby to the kitchen wing of the house throwing the coat down as he went. And then the rough, stone wall was at her back as he pushed her against it and shoved up her skirts. The surge of excitement that coursed through her when he caught her and she glimpsed his demon face meant that she was always ready for him. So that when he slammed into her a mere few seconds later she was already dripping and hot.

It was always her call though. An unspoken agreement between them that if she ran, then she was fair game and fully consenting. The sharp stab of his fangs made her cry out and then, after his allotted two sips, he withdrew and licked the wound clean in an almost apologetic manner. His yellow eyes always a little sheepish. Strong hands held her when her legs threatened to buckle under her and then his face changed back.

"Bloody hell, woman, you excite me so much," Spike said as he caressed her cheek. "You never cease to surprise me."

"Then that's a good thing," she told him and couldn't help feeling pleased at the way she could make him want her. "So, we shall never be bored."

"No chance of that, pet." Spike leaned forward for a long, lingering kiss. "Thank you," he said. "For letting me do it like that."

"I need to wash," she said. "Are you happy now?"

"Do I look it?"

"You look supremely pleased with yourself."

"Possibly because I am," he replied with a grin.

Buffy went into the small scullery and quickly cleaned herself off with a cloth. Spike lolled against the door, arms folded, watching her.

"You're not bored, are you?"

She looked up. "Why do you ask that?"

"You said the word," he shrugged. "Just wondered, that's all."

"I can't pretend I wouldn't like to go dancing and to the theatre, like normal people do, but I know it's not possible, Spike. It doesn't worry me, really it doesn't."

"Wish I could take you dancing love."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful? And the Music Hall, my father would so not approve."

"You are bored."

Buffy quickly crossed the room, aware that her eyes had probably been shining just a little too much at the prospect of a diversion other than tending goats and housekeeping. And Spike was looking terribly crest-fallen, as he was prone to do when he felt insecure.

"A little boredom is a price I don't mind paying to be safe, and here with you." He relaxed gratefully into her arms and she soothed him with a hand in his hair. "I'm not going to leave because of it," she told him. "So stop worrying about that."

He managed a nod of agreement, which made her happy because the last thing she wanted was for him to think her ungrateful. Then he raised his head.

"I don't see why we can't go out," he said.

Buffy scanned his face, carefully watching him for signs that he meant it. He raised his eyebrows, but she could see that he was hoping she'd disagree with him. So she did, disappointed as it made her feel.

"We can't risk it," she said and moved towards the kitchen to start making the bread. "Rest assured that my family will leave no stone unturned in their quest to find me. Not a good idea."

"You're probably right," Spike said making a show of reluctantly agreeing with her. "Perhaps one day, when it's all calmed down, I'll take you up to London. Would you like that? We could stay at a swish hotel."

"That would be nice," she said attempting to bring the conversation to a close. "Fetch me the flour sack, would you?"

Spike did as he was told and set it down on the kitchen table. "It's not as if you'll ever have children to occupy yourself with," he continued.

Buffy slipped on her apron. "I'll survive it though. Would you get the ladder out and look at the guttering at the front of the house, tonight? I think it's blocked."

"I'll get Alex to do it."

Pulling out a chair he sat down to watch her, elbows on the table, his chin in his hands. Buffy worked at the bread for a few minutes then turned to him, smiling.

"I don't need all your attention every moment of the day," she said. "If you've things to do, then feel free."

"Like watching, that's all. You're very pleasant to look at," he said smiling back.

"But you follow me around all day." She glanced up from her vigorous kneading, hitching up her sleeves where they were falling down and covering them with flour. "I'm not saying I don't like it, just that you needn't. You're out half the night, shouldn't you be catching up on your sleep?"

"Just want to make sure you're safe, love."

"But my brother wouldn't come here, surely. There's nothing to connect me with this place."

Spike went uncharacteristically quiet for a few moments so she continued with the very satisfying task of pummelling the dough into submission. Then a thought struck her. "You're not worried about anything else, are you?"

The big giveaway was that he didn't answer her immediately. It only took a heartbeat, but she noticed the hesitation before he told her, with false brightness that no, there was nothing else on his mind. She dropped the dough back into the bowl and covered it with a cloth, then she set it to rise on the warmth of the cast iron range.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked turning back to him.

Spike closed his eyes, then he opened them and scraped back his chair. "Sit here," he said patting his knee. "But I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily."

Buffy took a moment to fill the kettle and place it on the hotplate before doing as he requested. With her arms around his neck she gazed into his face and was shocked to see the concern that he couldn't hide.

"Let's go to America," he said suddenly. "A new beginning. What do you say?"

"America?" It was the very last thing she thought he'd say. He waited, expectantly and when she'd got over her shock she managed a reply. "I'd love to go to America," she said actually feeling excited at the prospect. "But we can disappear in England just as easily. There are many places we can go where my brother will never find us."

The way his hand moved restlessly over her thigh spoke more of concern than any sexual motive, and although she knew he worried about her obsessively this had nothing to do with her brother. Spike could best him easily if he should ever show up. This was different. An indefinable threat, and something she could see that even his demon was afraid of.

"Spike," she said moving in closer to him as the very air seemed to chill around her. "What is it?"

For a few moments the two of them sat holding each other and the feeling of dread increased. It radiated off Spike in waves and in turn caused her heart to start a painful hammering in her chest. She fought to control it, knowing that Spike would react to her fear and just now they both needed to be in control. Leaning her head on his shoulder she let herself go limp.

"Calm down love," she said patting his arm. "You're holding me too tightly."

His grip immediately loosened and he gave her an apologetic kiss. "Sorry about that."

"Tell me what it is that frightens you so. It's not my brother, is it?"

"No, it's not," he said and glanced at the door. She did too, before he continued. "Buffy, I don't think we're safe here any more."

"Why not?" Her heart slithered down into her boots as he spoke and like a dream on waking, the cosy life she'd already imagined for them, in this house, faded and slipped away.

"Because I've got family problems too," he said. "And believe me, compared to mine, yours are nothing."

"Your family are looking for you too?"

"My vampire family, love. And it's not me they're looking for."

Buffy tensed at his words and looked around, despite the fact that they were the only two people in the kitchen. The tone of his voice, his whole demeanour, made her think that this threat was very real.

"You mean me? Why should they be looking for me?"

It was Spike's turn to calm her. "Shh," he said. "I won't let them anywhere near you, but we need to leave, and soon."

"Leave?" Buffy knew she sounded disappointed, but she couldn't help it. This place was already beginning to feel like home in a way her real home never had. "But you got the goats, and I've done all that work on the garden, I thought…"

"Yes, so did I," Spike said in a resigned tone. "I'm really sorry love, I've been fooling myself these past few weeks, that we could live here and just get on with our lives. But it's not to be, I can feel it. They're coming, Buffy but the important thing is this, me and you. Yes?"

"Of course." No hesitation there and she squeezed him hard to show she meant it.

"Then you trust me on this?"

"Yes." Her voice was small and Spike caught her cheek and made her look at him.

"No, you really have to trust me, I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was this important. Now say it."

"Spike, I do trust you," she said making sure that this time she sounded as if she meant it. "But I don't understand why they should want me? What have I done to them?"

"Nothing, it's just what they do, and if you knew what I know you'd be upstairs packing this very minute."

His words chilled her to the bone and for the first time in weeks Spike felt very cold as he held her. Reminding her that he had more in common with them, his vampire family, than with her. Even though she'd seen his demon face there was still a side of him that she suspected he kept hidden from her. A side she wasn't anxious to see, despite her protestations that he be totally honest with her.

"One of them made you a vampire?"

"I was sired by a crazy-woman," Spike said with a humourless laugh. "That's probably why I'm such an aberration. But she's got these abilities, psychic, I don't know what it is with her, she always knows where to find me. There are blood ties that go with family, it's complicated, but Angelus won't rest until he's found you."

"Angelus?"

"The grand-sire, I suppose you'd call him. One person you don't want to meet."

"What will he do if he finds me?"

"One of two things."

"Kill me, or make me a vampire." Buffy stated it as a fact and also had the distinct impression that she should have said when and not if he finds me.

"I hate having to leave you at night to go feed, but I have to, and it's too dangerous to take you with me. And yes, Angelus will do either of those things, I didn't want to frighten you so much but I can't ignore the threat any longer, much as I want to."

"Then we'll leave," she said resolutely. "Let's go to America, like you said. Or South America, no-one will find us there." She took a moment to fiddle with his collar which always seemed to be askew and then she straightened her spine ad looked him in the eye. "I was only scared because I could feel you were," she said. "But I'll protect you, tell me again how vampires can be killed."

Spike let out a short, incredulous laugh and took her hand. She stopped him before he had a chance to speak because she knew what he was going to say.

"No, don't laugh," she said seriously. "I may be small, but this Angelus is not going to spoil things for us, and I dare him to try. If he wants to harm you, then he'll have to go through me."

"Which is exactly what he intends to do," Spike replied, his eyes still a little wide as he took in her determination. "We can't beat him, love. All we can do is run away."

"Then we'll run," she said slipping from his lap and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Tears were of no use to them now, there would be time for that later, when they were far from here. "I'm not so stupid as to invite a confrontation with him, but you must show me what to do if I should ever meet him." Looking around frantically she spotted a wooden spoon on the table, left over from the bread-making and a sudden picture of Victoria defending her baby as they tried to take it away from her popped into her mind.

Snatching up the spoon she handed it to the still rather stunned-looking Spike. "Pretend this is a sharpened stake," she said. "I know it has to go through the heart, show me what to do."

Buffy tried to imagine it, her killing someone. Could she do it, even to an evil vampire? Then she looked at Spike.

What couldn't you do if you had reason enough? If you reached out with enough love you could touch the stars.

"Show me what to do," she repeated with even more determination. "Show me how to kill him."

tbc...

Chapter 12

Spike sidestepped neatly as Buffy came at him again with the wooden spoon. Grabbing her hand, he twirled her around and pulled her hard against him. "Have to do better than that," he said and loosened his hold so that she could wriggle free. "Angelus is, ow!" Spike staggered backwards clutching at his chest, a look of shock on his face. He looked down at the hands covering his heart and then back at Buffy. "You've killed me."

Buffy transferred her makeshift stake to her left hand and bounced up and down lightly on her toes. "Well it's about time," she said. "I thought I was never going to master this."

"I can't believe you just did that," Spike said with a grin. He gave his chest one last rub then straightened up. "Think you've found your calling, love."

"I think I have," she said. "Why aren't girls allowed to do this sort of thing in the real world? Much more useful than sewing and crochet."

"Which I'm betting you were useless at."

"No, actually I was very good at it, but that didn't mean I enjoyed it. Come at me again, Spike."

Spike took a large swig of his wine then circled round. She'd caught him off guard that time and there was no way she was doing it again. "You just got lucky, Buffy. Angelus is fast."

"And I am determined," she replied holding up the spoon, handle forward, and circling with him.

This time he had her down on the carpet because it was much more fun that way. Then he couldn't resist kissing her and, she got him again.

"You're cheating," he complained.

"There are rules, now? I don't think so."

"You're distracting me with your womanly charms."

"Good." She smiled sweetly and took a drink from her wineglass. "Stop teasing me, Spike and tell me how I'm doing. Then I want you to teach me how to fight."

'I think I'd prefer that game,' his demon grumbled. 'She makes me nervous with that thing.'

'You're not serious,' Spike told it. 'Can't you see I'm letting her win?'

'Really?' the demon observed. 'She's had us twice already, if that had been a stake…'

'I'd have had it off her the first time,' Spike told it firmly. 'I'm just trying to encourage her, that's all.'

"Spike?" Her voice sounded a little slurred and the spoon fell to the floor. "Oops," she said and then giggled. "Your face, Spike, when I staked you, was so funny." She motioned him towards her. "Come on, teach me to fight. Attack me."

"If you say so." It was ridiculously easy and he could have done it with one hand tied behind his back and probably no hands at all. "So," he said trying not to squash her as she lay beneath him. "What now?"

"This." She closed her eyes and offered him her lips. Spike dipped towards them then doubled up as her knee made contact with his groin.

"Bloody hell woman," he roared as he rolled off her. "What are you trying to do to me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Spikey." She sounded like a little girl and she didn't look sorry at all. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he said grimacing and clutching at the front of his trousers. "I really enjoy being kicked in the balls."

"But you said that was a man's most vulnerable spot." Buffy pushed herself up and leaned on one elbow. "And I need to learn what to do. Give me my wine," she ordered and waved her hand imperiously at him.

Spike handed her the glass and watched, impressed, as she downed it. "You're going to have a monster of a hangover tomorrow," he warned her.

"Good," she said. "And I wish my father were here to see me now. Do you know, he is the most pompous, self-righteous man you'd ever be unfortunate enough to meet."

Spike dropped down beside her and ran his finger experimentally along her arm, loving the way the small hairs responded to his touch. Loving everything about her. Her courage in the face of insurmountable odds was nothing short of outstanding. They were safe for possibly a few more days, but if he knew Dru, she'd soon be having visions of dark, old houses in the country and even if she hadn't been psychic that part of it wouldn't have been hard to guess, with him being a vampire, and all.

She turned to him and gave him what he could only describe as a seductive smile. Slow and secretive with just a hint of promise. But then she only had to look at him and he was seduced. Well and truly her grateful slave.

"Do you know," she continued. "Once one of my father's sermons went on so long that someone actually died during it."

Spike exploded.

Buffy stared at him wide-eyed. "It was a terrible tragedy."

"That's why it's so funny," he said gasping for air, because he needed air to laugh.

"There were rumours that he died of boredom," she said and then giggled. And that turned into laughter which she then seemed unable to stop.

It was hysteria, but it provided a much needed release of tension. Spike laughed with her and eventually they both forgot what they were actually laughing at and just laughed because they needed to.

"Tell me what this Angelus fellow is like," she said regaining control at last.

"A bastard," Spike said simply.

Buffy exploded again.

"And he's got this hair." Spike gestured the shape of Angelus' hair. "Thinks he's god's gift."

Buffy clutched at her sides. "Will he mind if I laugh at his hair?"

"You won't be laughing love. Not if you ever get to meet him."

They both sobered at that thought. Spike felt sorry that he'd broken the mood, but they couldn't deny what was happening forever. Tonight however, there was nothing to be done, and he was feeling strangely defiant and entirely reckless.Sod Angelus, he thought.And the whole lot of them.

"Bugger this, Buffy." He sat up and pulled her up after him. "Let's go dancing."

"Dancing? Do you think that's a good idea?" She looked at him through half closed eyes and with her rosy cheeks and wild hair tumbling carelessly over her face she looked so delectable that he immediately changed his mind.

"Possibly the most stupid idea I've ever had," he said. "And I've had some. Never mind dancing, let's do this instead."

The most beautiful and inviting lips that he'd ever seen were just too tempting to resist. So he kissed them. A light touch of his mouth on hers. Teasing and enquiring. Asking permission to go on. His tongue stroking persuasively until she opened for him.

"You taste deliciously sweet," he said pushing away her hair. And tender and gentle turned into hungry and searching as he demanded that she respond. His hands he kept to himself because he loved kissing her without distractions. Loved concentrating on one sensation at a time, when he had the patience to. Her lips were plump and moist and warm. Each rhythmic caress sending currents of desire coursing through him.

Easing back he outlined her mouth carefully with his tongue, tracing its shape and then he sat back on his heels and surveyed his work. There was a dreamy intensity in the way she looked back at him. A deceptive innocence mixed with an irresistible sensuality that captured him and held him in place. A languid smile on her well-kissed lips. A blush creeping over her skin, telling him that she was hot, for him. And the heady, sinful smell of her arousal.

"Take your dress off," he said in a voice pitched low, all thoughts of Angelus and the impending doom fleeing from his mind. "I want to kiss you everywhere."

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

They were late tonight. The man with the sand-coloured hair squinted at his pocket watch and read the time. With shaking hands, he took out the pile of crumpled squares of paper from his pocket and smoothed them flat against his thigh. He tried not to read the words, didn't have to anymore, because he knew them by heart.

Petite and blonde. Answers to the name of Buffy. Family beside themselves with worry.

Faint laughter floated through the doors which were thrown open by the uniformed doorman. The young man straightened his tie and smoothed back his hair, waiting for the crowds to exit.

"Still haven't found her?" the doorman asked sympathetically.

The young man put on a face much braver than he felt. "No luck yet."

The doorman beckoned him over and pointed to the papers. "Give me one of those then. I'll take it down the pub with me, might as well try all possibilities."

"Thank you," the young man said. "But my sister is very religious, she wouldn't be seen near a public house."

"Well, you never know." The doorman folded the paper and put it into his pocket then he turned his attention to the theatre goers who were now streaming out in droves. Some walking to the nearby eating establishments, others getting into the line of waiting carriages and hansom cabs.

The young man rushed forward and attended to his task, pressing papers into hands, listening intently. Everyone, it seemed, knew a young, blonde-haired girl. Or had seen one recently, but they couldn't quite remember where. Hope alternately rose and faded as he realised that nobody really knew anything and this evening had probably been just as much a waste of time as all the others.

"Pretty little thing. Did you love her?"

The young man offered her a paper. "She's my sister, and yes, we love her. Read this and please, if you've any information…"

The dark-haired beauty held out a gloved hand and took the paper. "All shiny and golden," she said wafting it in front of her making it flutter back and forth. "You want her, don't you?"

"We want her back, yes," he said. "We're all frantic with worry, if you know anything then please, I beg you, tell me."

"I'll find her for you," the woman said enigmatically. "Can't see her yet, too many clouds in the way. But I will, only a matter of time. He won't let you have her back though."

"Who?" The man gave chase as the woman turned and hurried away. "Who won't?"

"Why, Sweet Willy of course."

"Wait," he called out after her. For a moment he lost her in the crowd then he spotted her being helped into a carriage by a tall dark-haired man. She was laughing, and the man was smiling as he scanned the paper that she handed to him. The young man took a step forward as the taller man turned and stared at him.

The cold smile, the intensity of his gaze, something about him stopped the young man dead in his tracks. The taller man waved the paper at him, mouthing something he couldn't hear and the young man nodded a brief acknowledgment and quickly turned away, an unexpected feeling of dread settling on his heart.

As he pushed his way through the crowd he heard laughter, but it wasn't coming from the people all around him. It seemed to come from very far away. A half remembered dream, or a nightmare? He couldn't tell. And then the softer, more familiar sound of his sister's voice telling him that she never wanted to see him again unless it was in hell, where they both deserved to be.

Slipping into a nearby alleyway he slid down the wall on shaky legs and dropped his head into his hands. It was a nightmare, he decided, no less than he deserved. And Buffy had been right, hell did have a special place reserved for him. What he'd tried to do was an unforgivable sin and he welcomed the torment because god help him, he still wanted her.

Wearily he rose and stuffed the remaining papers back into his pocket. A temptation he couldn't resist, so better that she stay lost, he thought. Better for all of them. The overhanging sign of a nearby public house flapped and banged in the breeze and he decided to heed its call. Oblivion was what he needed. From these dark tormenting thoughts that wouldn't leave him be, and from the unbearable visions of his golden haired, fallen angel.

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

Buffy leaned back into the stack of velvet cushions, her robe open, hair cascading over one shoulder and barely covering her breasts, one leg bent, the other straight.

"No, sorry, it's all wrong." Spike put down his sketch pad and hitched a knee up onto the bed. "You look altogether far too innocent," he said pushing back the robe and exposing her thighs. "You never would have made a convincing harlot."

Buffy pouted her lips and blew him a kiss. "Isn't that what attracted you to me in the first place?" she said slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her.

"It was your innocence, love." He rearranged her hair and stared at her for a few moments. "Have you ever painted your face?"

"No," she said. "Not with a Bishop for a father. He'd never have allowed it. They would have had to rename me Jezebel."

"Stay there then."

Buffy sighed and admired Spike's retreating back as he left the room. The beginnings of a headache was drumming lightly at her temples but Spike seemed completely unaffected, which was fortunate, she thought with a giggle since he was the one required to perform. Not that he ever had problems in that area, alcohol or no alcohol.

And he was wrong about her. There was another Buffy that no one but him had seen. A Buffy who was capable of feeling things that she'd never dreamed of and who'd come so far since she'd met him as to be unrecognisable. Her hands slipped over her thighs as she thought about the last few hours and all the things they'd done. Sweeping them upwards and inwards she found the place that he loved so much and pressed down. Spike had taught her a lot of things, but she wasn't nearly as innocent as he imagined she was. Her brother had taught her things too. But this she'd learned all on her own.

Heat radiated through her as she continued with her slow massage, letting her legs fall open as her fingers pressed deeper. She wasn't sure if she had the energy to come again until she opened her eyes and saw Spike standing in the doorway watching her with clouded eyes, lips slightly parted. A lit cigarette dangled from the fingers of one hand and slowly and deliberately he brought it to his mouth and took a long drag.

She loved it when he smoked. Dirty habit though it undoubtedly was, Spike smoked the way he did everything else, with an easy sensuality. He wrapped his lips around it and hollowed his cheekbones as he sucked on the end then blew out a stream of smoke that drifted across the room in grey, wispy curls. Her fingers were circling now, the circle getting smaller and smaller as she concentrated everything down to sensation and he leaned lazily against the door and watched until her breath was coming in short shallow gasps and she tipped herself into a pleasurable free-fall that left her drained of all will.

She didn't even realise he'd crossed the room until she felt the bed dip and his hand on her face.

"Love watching you come." Desire gave his voice an edge that she only ever heard when they were like this and she rubbed her face against his caressing hand.

"Love watching you smoke," she told him. "Don't know why it's so sexual, it just is."

Spike laughed, deep in his throat. "It's because when you're watching me, you're really imagining something else."

Buffy frowned. "What? Oh…" It dawned on her exactly what he was referring to and to show him she'd guessed she let her hand fall lightly on the front of his trousers. "You're a wicked man, Spike and I'm not nearly as innocent as you seem to think I am."

"Not any more, love. I'll give you that." His hand covered hers and kept it in place while she squeezed and ran a finger idly over the hard length of him. "Would you like me to?" she asked.

"Like you to what, love?"

"You know." Buffy attempted to open one of his buttons, but he stopped her.

"Say it," he ordered his eyes twinkling with mischief.

And that was when he was at his most devastating. Boyish charm and hard man garnished with that gently teasing smile of his brought her to her knees every time and reminded her of just why she loved him.

"What are we doing, Spike?" she asked him. Ignoring his command because, sophisticated as she now thought herself it still embarrassed her to speak those naughty words of love that he was so fond of.

"Oral pleasuring, love. Want me to do you instead?

"No, not this," she said. "This."

He acknowledged her sweeping hand gesture with a nod of understanding. "Its called fiddling while Rome burns. Making hay while the sun shines. Sticking your tongue out at cruel fate."

"But shouldn't we be leaving?"

"He won't come tonight, Buffy. Whatever Angelus is doing, he's already doing it. Likes to get an early start as soon as the sun goes down. I know him well."

Only two of his trouser buttons were closed, but when she moved to open them he stopped her. "Let me do this first," he said. "Want to see you painted up, just lie still and enjoy it."

Using his smallest finger he dipped it into the pot of rouge and carefully and methodically he outlined first her lips, then found the contours of her cheek and rubbed it in with light circular movements. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of it. Surrendering herself for him to transform. Alternately she felt his finger feathering over her eyelids then something that felt like a brush outlining them. And when she tried to open her eyes he stopped her and told her to stay like that until he'd finished and then she could look at herself.

Even if we think we know ourselves, sometime it's up to others to make us see our potential. Buffy leaned back against Spike's bare chest and saw herself as if for the first time. Certainly the person who stared back at her from the large gilt mirror didn't look anything like the child who'd run away from home. And it wasn't just the makeup that had transformed her.

Instead of a scared young girl she saw a brave young woman. Instead of someone who ran away in the face of adversity she saw someone who would stand and fight. And instead of a child who thought she would never know love, she saw a woman who couldn't be more loved.

And Spike alternated in equal parts between childish glee at his handiwork and pure wolf about to devour her whole. "What do you think?" he asked her and then he nuzzled her neck and growled.

Buffy squirmed under his attentions, thinking how strange it always looked that he didn't make a reflection then turned her head from side to side. "Is it me Spike?"

"Of course it's you, love. Don't you know what you've got inside? Isn't it bloody obvious?"

"It never has been before," she said, and wondered what it really was that had effected the change. Then she realised with perfect clarity that it was Spike. Just looking at him made her heart glow with happiness. And the thought of Angelus hurting him made her want to spit like a mother cat who's kitten's are threatened.

But it was being with him like this, her robe open, his arms draped casually over her shoulders, hands cupping her breasts that made her feel the most powerful of all. The confidence that this gave her surpassed everything.

"I'm not afraid anymore." The revelation took her by surprise, even though it was her saying it, but not Spike.

"I know," he said, his voice laced with pride. "Want to wear some jewellery?"

"I suppose I should if we're going dancing."

Spike looked surprised for a moment then his face lit up with a knowing grin. "There's a box in the bottom drawer."

Buffy didn't ask where it came from, instead she sat still as he clipped earrings to her ears and fastened a pearl necklace around her neck. "Pearls are for tears," she said lightly fingering the smooth strands.

"No they're not," he said firmly. "Pass me that hairbrush."

Buffy handed him the ornate silver-backed brush and he went to work taming her hair. Efficiently at first and then, when all the tangles had been dealt with he slowed down and took some time to simply caress her hair with the brush. Long, deep strokes that had her purring under his hand. Then he handed her a tortoise-shell comb.

"Here, twist it up into one of those knots, I like you with your hair up."

It wouldn't stay up properly because there weren't enough pins, but she managed the semblance of a hairstyle. "Find me some clothes, Spike then we'll get you ready."

He liked her in a corset too, so she wore it, for him sucking in her waist as he laced it tight. The knee high stockings nearly caused another bout of love-making as his roving hands did more than put them on her, but she managed to resist. Black shoes, and a sleeveless silk evening dress with a shockingly plunging décolletage completed her ensemble.

Then she turned her attention to him.

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

The young man downed his whiskey and banged his fist on the bar. "Another one here, if you please," he slurred out. "And one for," he peered closely at the woman standing beside him. "The lady." He bowed deeply staggered sideways and would have fallen clean over if the lady in question hadn't caught him.

"What's yer name then?" she said as she propped him back at the bar, her hands over-familiar and letting him know exactly what kind of lady she was.

"Warren," he replied and slumped forward as a wave of nausea overtook him. "Warren Summers at your service."

"Oh, I do 'ope so," the woman said as she ran her hands over the front of his trousers. "Why don't you come outside and show me just what you got in there, eh? Only cost you sixpence."

Warren looked her up and down and shrugged. "I've spent all my money," he said and for emphasis he pulled out the lining of his trouser pocket. "Not a penny left save what I just gave for the drinks."

"Well, that's a shame, isn't it? I'll 'ave a gin," she said genially. "And then maybe I'm feeling generous-like." She leaned close and whispered in his ear. "Maybe I'll let an 'ansome lad like you 'ave one for free."

Warren gave her an unsteady grin as she made another pass at him and he grabbed her hand and held it in place. "I wish all women were as generous as you," he said and had a good look down her cleavage for good measure. "A man needs his comforts and women can be so mean."

"There, there, pet." She patted his hand. "Margaret'll see yer alright. Get that drink down ye and come outside with me."

"It's the hair, isn't it?" He tried to point to it, but couldn't quite remember where it was. On the head, he thought so he pointed vaguely in that direction. "Women like the hair, you see."

"Ye got lovely hair." Margaret picked up his drink and held it to his lips, carelessly spilling it as she poured it down his throat. "Yer just not appreciated, my pet. Come on."

He watched her down her gin in one draft then he was being pulled from the pub, staggering behind the surprisingly strong Margaret who hauled him out into an alleyway and then insisted that they couldn't do it there and he had to follow her to a more private place.

Suited him, he thought. She was a fine figure of a woman and he swaggered a little at the thought that he was so handsome that she was going to allow him her pleasures free of charge.

It was his last coherent thought that end of the evening and he was so drunk the blow didn't even hurt. The cobbles lurched towards him and he hit them with a soft groan and then there was nothing.

Margaret straightened and looked at her companion. "Almost feel sorry for the lad. Give us me money then."

The man ignored her and instead turned the body over with the toe of his boot and narrowed his eyes. The woman opened her mouth to complain once more that she wanted her money, but the only sound that came out was a strangled scream of horror as she looked into the face of her own death. The tall, dark haired man finally let her limp body drop to the floor and wiped her blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thank you, Margaret, that's a fine job you did, but I don't think I'll be needing you any more," He said in an emotionless voice.

Angelus looked down at her for a moment then he bent and swung Warren's unconscious body over his shoulder. "You, on the other hand, me lad, are going to come in very useful, indeed."

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

Spike stood still and just enjoyed her nearness as Buffy slid the tie around his neck. He'd told her not to wear perfume because he liked smelling her without any distractions. And he loved her like this, after they'd made love and she'd come so many times that her scent nearly overwhelmed him. There was something almost feral about the way it made him feel. A wildness that didn't just come from him having a demon inside him, although that undoubtedly helped.

This was something different that went beyond the need to have and to protect and to defend. He didn't just want to possess her, sometimes he wanted to devour her and just get so close that he became part of her. The best way he could show her that was when he was deep inside her and he thanked the heavens that she was more than happy to accommodate his voracious sexual appetite. The thought made him laugh.

She tipped her head enquiringly as she tied the knot.

"Just thinking that it's a good job that you're as rabid as I am when it comes to sex. I have to run to catch up with you sometimes."

"You so do not," she said lifting her chin. "I'll have you know that sometimes I'm quite sore at the end of the night."

"Oh heck," he caught her hands and held them still. "Am I too rough with you?"

"No, Spike of course you're not, and wasn't I to tell you if you were? You leave me aching for more, how does that sound?"

"Sounds like I'm hurting you," he said and stood still once more while she resumed her task. "I don't want to hurt you, love."

"And you don't," she told him, "here." She offered him his jacket and he slipped it on. "Now, let's get your collar straight and then I'll do your hair. Sit down. It was just a throwaway line really, in response to what you said to me. You didn't expect me not to respond, did you?"

"Just as long as you're alright with it all."

"It's perfect," she reassured him. "Think of it as the inevitable consequence of being well-loved. The way we go at it, well, things are bound to get a little sore."

"I am hurting you…"

"Spike!"

Being threatened with a hairbrush was a first, but he wisely backed down. For all their closeness there were still things about her he didn't understand. She said things and then she said she didn't mean them. And then she said that possibly she did. He'd never fully comprehend women, he decided. They were very endearing, but completely illogical sometimes. Perhaps he'd become too used to the black and white world of hunt and kill, see and take and had simply forgotten what it was like to live in a world where people had to think of things other than just pleasing themselves.

Her hands felt wonderful in his hair and he groaned with pleasure as her fingers worked in the oil. "Cut it for me tomorrow," he said. "It's getting far too long."

"I like it like this," she replied and slicked it back from his face. Her expression was still one of amusement at their earlier conversation. She knew him too well. Knew that he worried over every little thing she said and sometimes the little minx would let him stew for days before explaining things to him.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "And I do not."

"You certainly do," he said. "You sulked for days when I said I didn't like your soup."

"Well, revolting was hardly the compliment I was looking for."

"But it was, I was simply stating a fact."

"There's this little thing called tact, Spike." Bending her head she kissed him just below the ear to show that they could have minor disagreements and she'd still love him.

"You wouldn't be so cheeky if you were my wife," he grumbled. "You'd have to show me some respect then."

"Is that a sulky bottom lip I can see sticking out there," she said leaning her chin on his shoulder "I do believe it is, Spike."

"You're asking for it woman," he warned her almost unable to keep the grin from breaking out on his face. This was more like it, he thought. Because he really didn't like it when they had anything approaching a disagreement. "One more comment like that madam."

"And what?" she said and then she stuck out her tongue and whispered in his ear. "Count to a hundred and then come find me." And with that she turned and ran out of the room.

'What are you waiting for?' his demon said. 'Go after her.'

'I have to count to a hundred,' he told it and diligently started counting.

'Excuse me, vampire,' the demon reminded him.

'Oh yes,' Spike said with an evil smile. 'You know sometimes I genuinely forget.'

'Well, let me remind you that you are and that we're going to require feeding at some time. Now go find her, she hasn't gone far.'

Spike allowed himself another evil grin before rising and creeping to the door. She was still out there, deciding where to hide. Alex had cleared out the cellar of the things she didn't need to see so that was now safe, but she never went down there. If he knew her she'd make straight for the attics.

'May I?' his demon enquired.

'Be my guest,' Spike said and with a flick of his head he changed.

Now he could hear her blood as it pulsed around her body. Her heartbeat as it fluttered with excitement and every breath that she took. Even at this distance her scent was overpowering and he had it locked down so well that he knew that he'd find her anywhere she went. The thought reassured him as he crept out of the door after her.

Holding back the demon was difficult. All it wanted to do was rush after her and jump her. Make her scream and then have sex with her.

'All you ever think about,' Spike said and peered round the corner. Buffy was, rather predictably opening the attic door and then she looked around. Spike flattened himself against the wall.

'And you don't?'

'Well of course I do,' Spike said. 'But you heard her, human remember? We have to be careful with her.'

'She loves it.'

Spike opened the attic door and listened. Buffy was in one of the rooms above and he closed his eyes to concentrate on exactly where. 'She said she was sore.'

'Aching for more was what I heard.'

'She's delicate.' Spike started up the stairs.

The demon snorted. 'You are undoubtedly the biggest twit that I have ever had the misfortune to encounter, William. That girl is as delicate as I am. Made of steel more like.'

'I was talking figuratively. Which way did she go?'

'First room on the left, she's in the cupboard under the eaves. And what's that supposed to mean? Figuratively? I swear that one day you are going to disappear up your own backside.'

'Stop distracting me,' Spike told it. 'I don't want to scare her too much.'

'Excuse me while I indulge in another evil grin.'

'No,' Spike said. 'Not now, not with him looming on the horizon.'

'Angelus?' The demon stopped grinning. 'We need to leave.'

'I know, but I hate the thought of dragging her around like a fugitive. Women want home comforts and I'm supposed to be providing all that. What kind of life will we have on the run from Angelus?' Still in demon face and halfway up the stairs, Spike leaned his head back against the wall. 'But even if I was strong enough to let her go to live a normal life, one of them will find her. Angelus, her brother. She's tied to us for life now.'

'She didn't pick it up, did she?'

'What?' Spike remembered that they were supposed to be dancing and all of a sudden it seemed really important to be doing that with her.

'Your marriage proposal.'

'No, she didn't. Anyway, it was just as she said, a throwaway line. Vampires don't marry and she's probably not expecting it anyway.'

'Like she wasn't expecting a baby? Let me ask her.'

'What did you say?'

'Stay like this and ask her, maybe not to marry you, and I know you won't let me turn her, but make a formal commitment and ask her to do the same. Give her something else to fight for.'

'We'd already die for each other. What else do we need?'

'I'm not doubting us, do it for her. She thinks she'd be prepared to die defending you, but at the last moment she'll hesitate because she's only human. Give her the edge that she needs to survive. Make a bond with her that she'll want to defend to her dying breath and couch it in ritual if it makes her happier. Give her a ring, do something concrete because if you don't she's going to die.'

The truth of it hit him hard. Spike closed his eyes but all he could see was Buffy lying cold and broken while Angelus smiled that hellish, satisfied smile of his.

'Turn her,' the demon said quietly. 'Then as least Angelus won't be able to, even if he does kill her. At least if she's a vampire she'll be strong.'

'But she might not love me any more.'

'Well, that's irony for you, my boy.'

A sound made Spike turn and when he looked up Buffy was standing at the top of the stairs, watching him.

"I thought you'd forgotten me," she said. "Thought you weren't coming for me."

Spike stayed in demon face and reached out his hand. She descended the stairs, gracefully holding up her skirts, a smile of what he thought might be relief on her lips. Her eyes holding just a hint of anxiety. Whether it was fear of the demon or that she'd picked up on his concern, he couldn't tell. When she was near enough he grasped her hand in his and pulled her hard against him.

"I will always come for you," he said. "Do you believe it?"

"I believe you'll always try your best."

He shook his head. "Not good enough, you've got to believe it, with no doubt at all."

For a few moments she just stared at him then she raised her hand and touched his distorted cheek. "I'm never going to win at hide and seek if you insist on cheating, you know."

The demon growled softly, waiting for her answer, but not expecting the kiss. Spike had kissed her when he was like this, but she'd never initiated it. And it had always been hard and frantic. It turned to hide, but Spike held on to it. Keeping his lips together because he didn't want to hurt her with his fangs he kissed her back, and the feeling of confusion and panic melted away.

"You've got to believe it with everything you have," he told her and held her in his gaze. "Everything, Buffy."

She was made of steel, her spirit if not her body. But the demon was right. They did need to formalise it in both demon and human terms, for her if not for him.

"I was going to ask you to marry me."

Her response told him everything he needed to know and confirmed everything the demon had said. She'd heard the words marry me and her eyes had lit up like beacons. Then the hope had faded as what he'd actually said filtered through. It would never have been mentioned, but of course she'd want to be married, just like she'd wanted children.

"I would if I could," he continued. "Just like I'd love to have children with you, nothing would make me happier, Buffy. And neither of us want you to be a vampire, but let's do something."

"You didn't have to stay like this to ask me," she said reaching her arms around his neck and holding him close. "I know what you are, and I'm happy with it. And you gave me this." She took his hand and made him uncover the scar on her neck. "This binds me to you, doesn't it?"

The scab was soft and pink and too inviting. "Yes," he said and covered it up again. "But I don't have anything."

"I don't think I can bite you again, that's not what you want, is it?"

"No, you don't have to do that, but give me a scar, something I can look at and feel. Something to make me remember what this is all about."

She stepped back, but he caught her again. "Do this for me, I need you to."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, look let's do it now. Then I'm going to dance with you and then I'm going to make love to you. And then," he stopped for a moment to see if she was listening because she still looked as if she wanted to run away at the prospect of what he'd asked her to do. "Then you can start packing your things. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like you love me very much, Spike."

"Keep believing it," he said "Come on, time is something we don't have. Let's do it now."

tbc…

Chapter 13

“It has to be blood, Buffy.”

The knife felt all wrong as Spike pressed it into her hand and guided it against the bare skin of his forearm. “Why can’t I just give you a ring,” she said, her fingers barely gripping it. “Do I have to do this?”

“It’s always blood, Buffy. It’s what we do. It won’t hurt so much if I stay like this. Do it.”

“So much?” She looked up at him. “You said it wouldn’t hurt you.”

Spike’s features dissolved and rearranged themselves back into his human face and Buffy threw the knife onto the table. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Her hand was shaking, the trembling running through her body until her knees were threatening to give way. It was one thing playing at killing vampires and imagining that you had what it took to thrust a stake though someone’s heart, but actually doing it? But if she couldn’t do this, how would she ever hope to kill Angelus?

Spike caught her. “Come on, love.” Grabbing her around the waist he hoisted her up onto the kitchen table and nudged her knees apart. “You’re made of sterner stuff than this, Buffy, look at me.”

She felt him, pressing between her legs as he moved against her and she pulled him even closer, so that there was no space between then. He held her with one arm and with the other he reached for the knife.

“Here.”

She tried to keep him, but he moved back. Loosening her hand from his shirt and folding it around the bone handle.

“Want me to help you?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice unsteady, her hand shaking. But strangely enough, her resolve stiffening under the assault of his gentle persuasion. It was a time to be tested and a time to be strong. A time to show how much she loved him. Lifting the blade she guided it not to his skin, but to her own. His eyes lit up first with surprise, then with understanding, but he shook his head.

“No, love.” His hand covered hers. “Don't want you to get blood poisoning again.”

“You do it then.” She offered him her arm. "Mark me where I can see it”

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and pushed her wrist against his mouth, feeling him change as his lips hovered over her pulse.

"Not there," he said and turned her arm over. "Don't want it to bleed too much."

Buffy swallowed, then gave a sharp cry as Spike bit down hard, without warning, letting his teeth sink deep into her skin. He didn't drink, but held her in place for a few moments, one hand holding the back of her neck the other clamped securely around her upper arm, shaking his head and growling softly until he was satisfied that he'd marked her. It was more painful than any other bite he'd given her and she was trembling and dizzy as he withdrew.

“It’s alright,” he said holding her upright, because her strength seemed to have suddenly deserted her in a rush. “Brave girl, let me stop the bleeding.”

His mouth covered the wound once more and this time she felt him alternately sucking and licking at it, making it sting as he worked. Resolutely, she endured it because she'd asked him to do it and because she knew he wouldn't stop until he was sure it was clean.

“My turn now,” he said and picked up the knife.

Another wave of nausea washed over her as the combined effects of all the alcohol she’d drunk earlier and the sight of her blood turned her stomach over once more. She took a deep breath and reached out for it. Her cut hadn’t properly stopped bleeding and as she lifted her arm thin streams of blood trickled across her skin and splashed onto the silk of her dress. Spike held her firmly as he helped her push the blade into his arm.

“Down to the bone, love,” he told her showing no sign that it was hurting. “Won’t scar unless you do that.”

She wanted to close her eyes, but somehow it felt important that she witness this, gruesome as it was. The blade disappeared into his skin and a surprising amount of blood oozed out around it. He helped her to make a slashing action, and then he loosened his grip

This time she didn’t drop the knife because she was holding it so tightly she couldn’t let go. Spike gently uncurled her fingers and took it from her ignoring the blood that was now flowing freely from his wound. Still in demon face he moved towards her bite once more, but this time she stopped him.

“Let me go first,” she said lowering her head to his cut then raising her eyes in question. He bit his lip and nodded making her suddenly feel as equal to him as she could get without asking him to turn her. There was respect in his yellow eyes, as well as love as she touched her lips to his slick flesh and tasted him. He did the same to her until both their mouths were covered with blood and then she kissed him so that they could share each other’s life force. When they parted she was breathless and light-headed.

“Did I do it right?” she asked him.

“I love you,” he said simply.

Human and demon blended so perfectly at that moment that she could see them both, even though he was now back in his normal face. “I love you too, and always will,” she said, just as simply because that’s all they needed. The plain, humble truth of it.

“Wait,” she said as he made to help her down from the table, muttering about getting her a bandage for her arm. “I want to do this too.” Taking his arm she pressed the cuts together. “I’m yours and you’re mine, now you say it.”

“Always yours and always mine,” he said quietly and kissed her again. “Do you feel stronger now?”

For a moment she rested her head against his chest and when she lifted it she even managed a weak smile for him. “I do,” she said, knowing it was the truth, even if her body protested otherwise. “And no priest could have joined us better than this, could they?”

“No, they couldn’t.” He touched her wound lightly, frowning as she flinched.
“Tell me where to find something to bind it,” he asked her. “Don’t want you weak from loss of blood now.”

“In the drawer.” She pointed to the linen drawer set in the large Welsh dresser that lined one side of the kitchen. “There are some clean tablecloths, tear one of those.”

Buffy sucked at her arm as he crossed the kitchen and searched the drawer. The sharp rip as he tore the material sounded very loud in the subdued atmosphere. It was a quiet house by nature and not just because only the two of them, and sometimes Alex, lived there. She’d never decided whether it could be described as peaceful or dead and sometimes the air seemed so thick that even time struggled to pass.

Spike took a few more moments to clean her wound then he tied it securely with the makeshift bandage. She sat quietly holding out her arm for him as he worked, acknowledging his smile of encouragement with one of her own. And when she asked if she could bandage his he refused.

“Need to leave it open love, otherwise it will heal too fast and I want it to scar.”

“Alright,” she said and hopped down from the table. He caught her as she swayed on rubbery legs, but she refused to let him pick her up. “You promised me dancing,” she said holding out her hand. “We’re all dressed up, with nowhere to go. Dance with me.”

The room was lit by a single oil lamp that sat on the range making an oasis of light into which they stepped. Shadows flickered and the dark night closed in with all its threats and secrets and Buffy’s heart ached with a pain that she’d never felt before. Holding something precious in your hands and realising its worth, is truly frightening. Because if you lose it, how do you go on?

“I’m sorry I had to hurt you,” Spike said gathering her close.

“It’s done now,” she said and rested her head onto his chest, while his arms circled her back. “Why can’t the world leave us alone?” she asked him.

“Got to pay for my sins, love.” His tone was emotionless as if he’d always known what the inevitable conclusion to his existence as a vampire would be. “God’s idea of a joke.”

“No, Spike. Don’t just accept this. I don’t think God works like that. Angelus sounds like evil personified, and how can that be your fault? We’re just conveniently in his sights.”

“We’ll go tomorrow,” he said. “Take the carriage to Southampton and book passage on a steamer to America.”

“What about Victoria and Albert?” Buffy looked up at him, knowing it was stupid to worry about goats when their own existence was being threatened. “I know,” she said in response to his raised eyebrows. “They’re only goats, and there are more important things to think about. But they symbolise everything we were trying to do here.”

Spike put his hand on the back of her head and she laid her cheek against his bloodstained shirt. Together they swayed to imaginary music in a place where, for now, only the two of them existed. He marked her with his darkness and she marked him with her light. It was an irresistible pull. She couldn’t say exactly what drew her to him. It wasn’t just the physical because she’d seen him with his grotesque demon mask and still she was here. Was it just because he loved her? She didn’t think so because she thought that perhaps, she’d made this decision independently of that. You could love something well enough without it being returned, although finding it was mutual was undoubtedly a blessing.

Why did she feel that here was someone who she’d be prepared to lay down her life for, and do it gladly?

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, about the goats, about everything, Buffy. I’ve been living a dream. Reaching out for lost things I thought I could regain... Playing a game that I was normal again. It’s never going to happen love. Never.”

And then she understood. The fact that he wanted to do this and that he’d tried to fight against his hideous destiny. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t, or perhaps that he’d never succeed. It only mattered that he’d tried.

In her, he’d seen a reason to change, and in him she’d seen her future.

“How many people have you killed, Spike?”

Somewhere outside an owl screeched, a portent of imminent death, and when Buffy shivered at the eerie sound he cuddled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “At least one a night for the last ten years. Work it out.”

“I don’t have to,” she said. “How many since you met me?”

“The sailor.” There was a pause. “Some may have died, but I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t you kill them any more?”

“Because you wouldn’t like it.”

“But surely you must know it’s wrong?”

“Well of course, but I’m an evil vampire. It’s what we do.”

“You’ve done evil things, Spike. But I don’t believe you’re evil. You wouldn’t love me like this if you were evil.”

“Perhaps that’s true,” he said. “Don’t go thinking I’m redeemed, Buffy. I’m only doing this for you, you’re all I care about.”

“But that must count a little towards redemption. None of us are perfect, we just do what we can. Does it matter that the reasons are selfish? And if it’s love that motivates you to change, then how can that be wrong?”

“Loves a powerful thing, I’ll give you that,” he agreed, “and in the natural order of things, this shouldn’t be happening.”

“But it is, Spike. I pray for you every night, do you know that?”

“I’m flattered you think me worth the trouble, love.”

Sometimes his need for her was so overwhelmingly transparent that he communicated it in the slightest of gestures, the subtlest shifts of tone. Sometimes it was the merest change in the energy that bound them together that told her to hold him closer and pray harder that something might be salvaged from the mess that was his existence.

He hadn’t asked to be a vampire and there still seemed to be something fundamentally human left in him that fought against his cruel fate. Some embrace their destiny wholeheartedly, others with a quiet acceptance. Some fight against it no matter what the odds. Some need a reason and some don’t. She was his reason and that was her fate. And now she understood why.

“I’d like us to be together always,” she said. “That’s why I pray.”

“Then keep praying love, because eternity’s a bloody long time and miracles are rare. Are you alright?”

“I think so,” she told him. “Too much wine and then all the blood.” The stain on his shirt went out of focus as she stared intently at it and when she looked down at herself she was covered with it too. His cut wrist rested lightly at the back of her neck rubbing his blood onto her wherever it touched. It trickled down her back and thin rivulets made tracks over her shoulder and into the cleavage of the dress.

Spike followed her gaze, then bent his head and rubbed his cheek against her throat. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he said and took her hand. “Then you need to rest. Packing can wait until tomorrow.”

Buffy allowed him to lead her. “I’d offer you my place in heaven,” she said. “But I’m not sure I’m going there either.”

“Quite the pair we make, don’t we?” he said stopping at the kitchen door. “Go and get ready, I’ll heat some water.”

“You can have it if you like,” she told him and wondered if she had the energy to climb the stairs. Deciding she didn’t, she went straight to the bathroom which was on the ground floor, sank down into a wicker chair at the side of the cast iron bath and tried to get a grip on her emotions. Right now she was alternating between surges of strength that made her feel she could take on the whole world and great waves of despondency that urged her to just finish it now, before Angelus had the chance to.

She kicked off her shoes and leaned back, closing her eyes and wondering at the irony of it all. She’d gladly join Spike in the afterlife, if she was at all sure that she’d be meeting him there. For that to happen they’d both have to go to heaven and she already knew there was no chance of that. And no use joining him in hell because wouldn’t their personal torment be to spend the rest of time watching each other suffer?

For a few moments she decided to allow herself some peace and shut out all thoughts of the outside world and anything that wasn’t here and now. Through half closed eyes, she watched Spike as he filled the bath with hot water and topped it up from the spring-fed pump. While he did so she murmured another prayer under her breath. Praying for a miracle, for him. Because wasn’t this exactly what miracles were for?

When he’d finished he stripped off his own clothes and stood, gloriously naked before her. Then he was kneeling at her feet as he started on hers.

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

“You need to go feed, Spike.” Buffy leaned sleepily against him in the pink-tinged water, her bandaged wrist propped on the side of the bath in a vain attempt to keep it dry.

“Not tonight, love, not leaving you alone.”

“Alex can stay with me.”

“He’s a vampire, love. I’ll never trust him entirely.”

“Then I’ll hide somewhere, or you could take me with you.”

“Stop worrying about me,” Spike flattened a hand on her belly and let it slide lower. “I can go for one night without feeding. Worry about this instead.”

He hadn’t wanted to make love to her. No, that wasn’t entirely true, he loved having her when she was all loose and sleepy like this but not tonight. Still mindful that she’d said she was sore, he reined in his own needs and made do with the closeness. Her arm slipped from the side of the bath as he stroked her and he realised that she was falling asleep on him. What kind of woman would trust a vampire in this way? And what kind of vampire would do this? He’d heard of such things happening and even though it had long been a fantasy of his, he’d always dismissed the stories as apocryphal.

One of the most delightful aspects of this whole relationship was the discovery that dreams do come true after all. And that if you wish hard enough, you can almost conjure the impossible out of thin air. Buffy rolled her head and tipped her face for a kiss, reaching back with her arm to pull him down. She murmured something he didn’t catch, but her gentle mouth kissed him with an understanding that made him want to weep and with love that he really didn’t deserve.

‘We nearly killed her,’ his demon said.

It made his insides twist into knots when he contemplated what had nearly happened. But when he thought about it, he wondered if he would ever have done it. Something that he couldn’t explain had happened the night he’d met this woman. It had called to him then, and the pull grew stronger with each hour they spent together.

“I’m hopelessly lost in you,” he whispered to her.

“That’s nice,” she replied in a voice that was barely there. “Will you stay?”

That made him smile as he remembered the verbal sparring during which he’d asked her that question over and over.

“What made you stay?” he said watching wet strands of her hair that had escaped from the knot, float around her in the water.

“You asked me to.” There was laughter in her voice, as if it really had been that simple after all.

“And you needed a place to hide?”

“Mmmm,” she let out a sigh. “But I stayed because I wanted to, and not just because of that.”

“I said you could leave, but I’m not sure I would have let you. Come on, the water’s getting cold.”

Buffy hauled herself upright at his encouragement and he kissed her soundly on each buttock cheek as she rose, wrapping his hands around her waist so that he could hold her in place. She joined in with a giggle and wriggled back against his face as his tongue drew patterns on her skin.

“I wasn’t planning on being inside you again tonight,” he told her. “But I think I need to be.” More kisses, lighter this time, working his way down to the back of her thighs and making them tremble. “May I?” he asked already knowing what her answer was going to be.

With a dreamy look over her shoulder she moved to the end of the bath and folded her arms against the edge. Spike moved so that he was kneeling behind her and grasped her hips and lifted her so that she was in position for him. No words were spoken as he thrust inside her and Buffy dropped her head to her hands and let him make love to her.

There were times when he needed it just like this and she understood that. Simple and uncomplicated and quiet. With a small hint of desperation and as much for comfort as anything. Her telling him without words how much she loved him and him reassuring himself that she still did. He came with his eyes closed and accepted her gift, the demon stepping aside and letting William tell her how grateful they were for it.

“Bite me,” she said and arched her neck. “I can tell how hungry you are.”

“Don’t tempt me, love.” He sat back onto his heels and she fell, with a splash, onto his lap.

When she rubbed her back against his chest her neck was too near for him to resist, but he didn’t want to hurt her, not again.

“No, love. I’ve hurt you enough tonight.” He stood up and lifted her out of the bath, reaching for a towel to wrap her in. Before he could she’d pulled off her bandage and pressed the new bite against his mouth.

“I order you to drink,” she said in an imperious, but slightly slurred voice. “You wouldn’t refuse me, would you?”

“No love,” he replied and took hold of her arm. “How can I when you offer like that?” The skin was torn, but the bite was clean, and all his senses quivered with anticipation as he first kissed her, then gently started to suck. And when he had the good sense to stop it was with agonising regret that he couldn’t turn her there and then. His demon urged him to take a chance, but he knew, with a strength of resolve he hadn’t realised was in him, that he never would.

When she was curled up beside him in bed he watched her sleeping and wondered how many times they would be allowed to cheat death. She’d done it twice and he had once. Between them they should have used up their allotted chances, but here they were about to try their luck once more. Or rather, she was, because he doubted whether Angelus really wanted to kill him. Where would the fun be in that?

And those damned goats were weighing heavily on his mind. It didn’t worry him, but he knew how Buffy would take it if anything happened to them. So when he was sure she was fast asleep he crept down to the stable and found Alex waiting to take him into town. Together they roused the surprised animals from their sleep and drove them down to the gates. They didn’t want to go and the whole farce of them trying to release them into the wild was set against the backdrop of his demon urging him to eat one of them. He was monstrously hungry and Buffy would never know, it kept telling him.

The goats kept bolting back to the stable and trying to settle down again and eventually Spike had to take the baby as bait and lure the nanny through the gates with it. The Billy took even greater exception to the upset in his routine and by the time they’d bundled him through the gates Spike was seriously considering the demon’s request as it glared back at him.

Then the stupid animals stood and stared at him, bleating pitifully for him to let them back in. And in the morning, they were still there.

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

With a shaking hand, Warren accepted the drink from the tall, dark-haired man. But when he tried to grip the glass his fingers failed him and it slipped clean through them. It fell to the floor and shattered, splashing his trouser leg with whiskey and setting his nerves even more on edge than they already were.

The man, who insisted he call him Angelus, had frightened him silly the first time he’d looked at him and now, sitting opposite him in this plush sitting room, the effect was even more magnified.

Angelus chuckled to himself and sprawled back into his chair.

“Are ye afraid of me, lad?” he asked genially, completely ignoring the broken glass.

“Need I be?” Warren managed to stammer it out, a voice in the back of his mind telling him not to antagonise this deceptively calm man that regarded him with such cool eyes. He tried to bend down to pick up the glass, blurting out his apologies as he did so, but Angelus stopped him with the toe of his boot.

Warren hadn’t even seen him rise and as he looked up at him, the man seemed to tower over him like a giant. A hand gripped his shoulder and he was hauled to his feet and set firmly back into his chair. Pain sliced through his head as he sat down with a jolt, reminding him that somehow he’d acquired an injury, and Angelus settled back opposite him once more.

“Now then, lad. Why don’t ye just calm down and perhaps we can provide each other with some mutual benefit?”

Warren’s eyes widened with shock and he shrank even further back into his chair. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “Nor what I might have said to you last night, I talk a lot of rubbish when I’m drunk. But I..I’m not that sort of man.”

Angelus laughed, a dark, rich sound. For a moment he tapped his finger on the side of his own whiskey glass, then he downed it in one. “Is that what you think this is?” he said, raising his eyebrows. And then he winked. “Don’t worry lad, you’re not my type.”

Warren gripped the arms of the chair to stop himself bolting there and then. Flicking a glance at the door he tried to measure the distance and work out his chances of actually getting to it, but Angelus was looking too. He shook his head and made a tutting noise.

“Now then, lad. Do ye think you’re a prisoner or something. Now what makes you think that?”

“Then I’m free to go?”

“Anytime ye like.” Angelus nodded towards the door and gave him a small wave.

Warren rose slowly, fighting the nausea and dizzyness caused by both the alcohol and the injury, he suspected, and straightened his jacket. It wasn’t the first time he’d been propositioned by a man, it was commonplace at boy’s boarding schools, but he’d quickly discovered that he had no leanings in that direction at all. He was two steps from the door when Angelus spoke.

“Of course, if you go now, you’ll never find her.”

Warren froze, then understanding dawned and all his worse fears seemed to be justified at once. If Buffy had already crossed paths with this Angelus fellow then he didn’t give much for her chances. The thought made his blood run cold.

“Do you know where she is?” He didn’t turn around because he didn’t want to see the look on Angelus’ face. A look that was bound to tell him that something awful had happened to her. After a long silence he felt obliged to confront this strange man on his sister’s behalf, but when he turned around Angelus was still smiling and holding up one of his papers.

“Ye said there’d be a reward.”

Warren couldn’t decide whether to be relieved at that statement or not. “This is what it’s all about then, you want to collect the reward?” he said hopefully.

“No lad.”

Angelus motioned him down again and he went, because this was the best chance that he’d had of finding her since Buffy had disappeared and scared witless as he was, he knew he ought to take it.

“If you’ve hurt her…” he began.

“Now lad,” Angelus’ face turned dark. “No need to be insulting me. I only want to help find her.”

“For what motive?” Warren said, genuinely mystified. “Why should you want to help me?”

“Well now, “ Angelus said. “I have certain information that your sister is being held against her will by someone who needs to be taught a lesson in manners. Someone who doesn’t respect his elders. You give me the information I need and I’ll find your sister for you. Then you get her back, and I get to settle my score and retrieve what’s rightfully mine.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Warren said. “How can I help you find her? If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t need you.”

“Well, there you see. I have certain means that you don’t have access to and together, I think we could do this.” Angelus leaned forward, conspiratorially. “He’s a cad of the worst possible nature. I truly fear for your sister’s virtue.”

Warren’s head snapped up from the daze he’d gone into during Angelus’ speech. “You don’t think…?”

Angelus raised an eyebrow and sat back. “Very much so, I’m afraid. In fact we’ll be lucky to find her alive.”

<i>And it’s all my fault,</i>Warren thought, his heart hammering painfully. And then another voice intruded telling him that if only she’d loved him back then none of this would have happened. “I didn’t mean for any of this,” he blurted out. “We have to find her. What must I do?”

Angelus nodded and smiled a satisfied smile. “Meet Drusilla,” he said. “She needs your co-operation for a few moments and then I may have some good news for you.”

Warren nearly jumped out of his chair when he realised that Angelus had been joined by the dark-haired woman he’d met outside the theatre. Looking around frantically he wondered how these people managed to move so fast and so silently. He affected a nervous bow from his chair as she approached him.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Pretty boy is going to help mummy, isn’t he?” She knelt in front of him and then he felt her hand tugging at the back of his neck, pulling him towards her. The other hand she placed with spread fingers on the top of his head. “What’s the little girl’s name? It’s too cloudy to see right now, just tell me her name and make the clouds roll away.”

Warren felt himself trembling in her strong grip and he couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. Drusilla caught him by the side of his face, crushing his cheek as she forced him to look at her. “Open up for me, that’s a good boy. Then mummy will be very nice to you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t shake his head to disagree, neither could he stop himself from telling this strange woman his sister’s name. Something in her gaze seemed to be robbing him of his will and he found himself falling into an abyss from which he knew he would never return. “You’re some strange religious cult, aren’t you? I knew it,” he blurted out. At least he thought it was him talking, but the sound seemed to be coming from the other side of the room. Images started to filter through his mind, slowly at first and then with a burning intensity. So much so that when he heard the scream he had no doubt that it was his. It ripped through his whole body as he saw Buffy being violated by a creature so horrible that it could have only come from the world of deepest nightmares.

Then, when he managed, at last, to open his eyes, he found that nightmares take place when you’re awake too. The hideous creature from his vision was standing right of him and another was kneeling at his feet holding him. The monster that wore Drusilla’s clothes stroked his neck with surprisingly gentle fingers and then, with a painful jolt, twisted it to the side and pulled down his collar.

He fought with everything he had. And he’d never truly imagined hell, until this moment. It was no longer some remote place peopled by horned devils with pitchforks. Somewhere that, no matter how evil you are, you never quite believe that that’s where you’re going. It was here, in this room and it <i>was</i> happening to him, after all these years, he was about to get his due.

He called to God in his last moments. Asking for forgiveness, begging that he be allowed to repent. Screamed something about having paid off the devil already so this couldn’t be happening. Felt his blood turning to ice as he realised that this was it. The moment of his own death.

Angelus the monster took him by the hair and laughed at his babbling. And he thought he heard him say thank you for helping them in a surprisingly polite voice, before he bared two enormous fangs and bit down hard on the side of his neck.

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

“Spike.” He was at his desk, frowning as he sorted through a sheaf of official looking papers. “Spike,” she said stopping to catch her breath. “You’ll never believe where I just found the goats.”

“Ahh.” Spike pushed back his chair and received her as she plopped herself down onto his lap. “They were outside the gates, can you believe that? How do you think they got there?”

“You’ve been down to the gates?”

Buffy’s smile faded as Spike’s face clouded over. “I know you told me not to go out, but I just wanted to see how they were and when I found they’d escaped I had to look for them.”

“Have you heard a single word I’ve said?” He sounded more incredulous than angry. “Everything I told you about Angelus. Did I not get through to you?”

“Don’t be cross with me,” she replied and leaned her head onto his shoulder. “I hate it when you’re cross with me. And I have such a headache.”

“Told you so,” he said, his tone softening. “Buffy, it’s really not safe to go out without me, and this isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t?” she replied in a small voice, but knowing full well what he was talking about.

“Winning arguments by going all helpless female on me.”

Buffy lifted her head and Spike raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” she said. “So you’ve noticed.”

“And you know I’ll always give in when you do this, so it’s really not fair.”

“But you don’t play fair either,” she countered. “You’re always distracting me when I’m in the middle of telling you something important.”

“Like this,” he said running his hand along her thigh.

“Yes, like that,” she said pushing his hand away and hopping off his lap so she could say what she had to say without succumbing. “How did the goats get outside the gate, and where are the keys to let them back in?”

“I put them there, last night. Thought I’d release them into the wild and someone will pick them up eventually. But the stupid things didn’t want to go.”

“Because they’re virtually pets, Spike. How could you be so cruel?”

“Maybe because I’m a vampire? They’re lucky I didn’t eat one of them. I’m bloody hungry.” The words were clipped, his voice edgy.

Spike levelled his gaze with hers and ran an agitated hand through his hair. For a brief moment his eyes flashed yellow then returned to blue. Buffy took a step back. “Don’t let’s fight,” she said. “Not now.”

“Hell, I’m sorry.” His hand came out and she took it without hesitation.

“So am I, I know you’re hungry, Spike. You haven’t fed properly for weeks.”

“Small price to pay,” he said and settled her back down onto his lap. “I’m sorry I snapped at you just now. I’m worried that’s all, and yes, hungry too,” he added. “I just have this feeling that we have to go now, something’s changed and I can’t work out what it is.”

“You can feel something, how? Do you have a connection with this Drusilla?”

“Not so much me with her as her with me. I just felt her so strongly this morning, as if she was reaching out. I have a horrible feeling they know where we are. And my demon’s all over the place. Angelus wants his due.”

“But I still don’t understand,” she said. “What rights does he have over you?”

“What’s mine is his first, that’s how it works, that’s how it’s always worked.”

“Then he’s done this before?”

Spike nodded. “But it’s never really bothered me, always been happy to share, although there’s not usually much left after Angelus has had his fill.”

Buffy couldn’t stop the tremor that ran through her body at his words. Spike held on to her in silent understanding and she took a deep breath. “The goats will find themselves a new home,” she said. “And we’ll get more when we reach America. See, I do know what’s important.”

“Thanks love, never doubted it.” Spike kissed her cheek and then rubbed at his eyes.

He looked tired as well as thin. Weeks of worry and little sleep compounded by his having taken very little human blood were starting to take their toll on him. She fingered the hollow of his cheek lightly and realised that she should have been paying more attention to his well-being rather than letting him look after her all the time. Being so adored by someone you loved was addictive and she’d happily lain back and let him pamper her well beyond the time when she was well enough to contribute more.

“What were you looking at?” She pointed to the papers scattered across his desk.

“Deeds of the house. I’ll put it in the hands of an agent and hopefully we’ll sell it. Should get a good sum, and they can bank the money for us and send it on to wherever we land.”

“It’s been nice, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has love. But I can’t be a human and you can’t be a vampire.”

“So there’s a place where we’ll meet, in the middle. A special place, just for us.”

“That there is, love.”

Spike dropped his head to her shoulder and it turned from him holding her to her holding him. “You’re exhausted, go have a few hours sleep,” she urged him. “Angelus won’t come during daylight.”

“Everything I do, I do for you,” he said suddenly. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“I love you, Spike. Now go rest and I’ll pack some things. Go on.”

“Just a few hours,” he said rising and letting her slide from his lap. “Oh, and I made you another present.”

Buffy laughed when he presented her with the bundle of sharpened sticks, but he placed a finger on her lips and stopped her.

“Right through the heart, just as I showed you. No hesitation, just do it. Yes?”

She nodded and accepted the stake patting at her dress as she did so. “No pockets.”

“Then put it in your drawers,” he said patting her on the bottom.

She raised herself on tiptoe and whispered something in his ear, smiling at his mock wide-eyed response.

“Suddenly I’m not tired any more,” he said with a grin and then he yawned widely. “Oh well, maybe I am. Don’t forget to wake me before lunch. Alex is driving us to Southampton as soon as it gets dark and I want us to be ready.”

“I won’t,” she said waving him away and turning her attention to the papers on the desk. They had money and she didn’t ask where it came from, but a house this size had to be worth a large sum and they would need every penny if they were going to start a new life.

<i>A new life, but never a normal one,</i> she thought and rubbed at her temples, thinking that she ought to get some feverfew from the herb garden to make into a tea. It was supposed to help. And then she would pack. Spike had bought her some beautiful gowns and she wondered just how many she could take. He’d fetched a trunk down from the attic, but that wouldn’t hold much, given the size of the dresses.

They should have been gone by now, and it was her fault that they hadn’t. She’d nested too well and Spike hadn’t had the heart to uproot her. The very fact that he was doing it at all showed how serious the threat was. And he’d be cross again if he knew she’d been outside after what he’d just said so she worked quickly.

As she plucked at the feverfew leaves she mentally said goodbye to it all. The house, her neat little herb garden. The goats.

Home is where the heart is. She’d embroidered that on a sampler once and it was only now that she truly understood what it meant. Now she knew how love could provide a shelter and a place of rest. How two people could stand alone with nothing but each other and yet have everything. How the whole world could fall away and crumble before your eyes, and still you had the courage to stand up and fight.

So she said goodbye again, more firmly this time, and with conviction. Even if she took no suitcases at all, everything she needed and wanted was going with her. The thought made her brave as she walked quickly back to the house, mindful of Spike’s words earlier. The stake was still in her hand and she knew now that she’d carry it always, that it had to become a part of the new Buffy who was rapidly emerging from this. She’d be the only woman in the world with special pockets sewn into her clothing to house her new friend.

The thought almost made her smile as she passed through the rose garden with its wooden gazebo at one corner and as she hurried by something caught her eye and made her jump, violently. A pale flash of white, a dark shape and a face. A face that she instantly recognised, but not the one she’d been expecting. With all the worry about Angelus she’d hardly given a thought to her brother.

Part of her was almost glad to see him again, he was her brother after all, and she shared a bond with him too. And the threat he posed compared to Angelus was nothing. He hadn’t moved and sat, impassively waiting for her as she tiptoed cautiously toward him. It wasn’t until she was able to touch him that she realised that he was never going to move again. As she reached out a trembling hand he toppled over sideways and flopped into a heap onto the bench, his open eyes still staring at her almost as if in accusation. The wound on his neck telling her exactly how he’d died.

<i>If you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened.</i> She heard his voice as clearly as if he’d spoken the words. Or was they hers? Her heart gave such a thud as he landed that she thought it was going to stop and when she opened her mouth to scream she found that she couldn’t make a sound, no matter how hard she tried.

For a moment the whole world tilted so sharply that she didn’t know where she was any more. Frozen in the moment, it faded away and just as quickly came back. With that her senses returned and she backed hastily away and turned to run back to the house. But not before she noticed the white envelope that was now on the floor. As she picked it up she barely registered that it was in Spike’s handwriting and then she turned and ran faster than she’d ever run in her life. Only when she was leaning panting for breath against the locked door of the kitchen wing did she remember that she was still carrying the letter.

With barely coordinated fingers she managed to open it. And although she already knew it was Spikes hand, the first sentence confirmed it beyond any doubt. Tears of shock and denial blurred the words as she read.

<i>My dearest Buffy,

Everything I do, I do for you…</i>

It was signed with his name, exactly the way he always did. And she crumpled it in her hand and shook her head, as if by doing so the words would magically disappear. Rising on unsteady legs she checked that the door was locked and made her way quickly upstairs to where he was. He was asleep, but snapped his eyes open the moment she climbed up onto the bed.

“What is it?” He sat up, scratching his head. “You’ve been crying. What is it?”

She handed him the letter and he read it, his brow creasing.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Warren’s dead.” The words almost choked her and the next ones even more so. “I was supposed to think you did it. Who wrote this note, Spike?”

“Angelus, he knows my handwriting. Buffy, was Warren really dead?”

Buffy touched her neck and nodded, then the tears started again and this time she couldn’t stop. Spike tried to hold her, but she was too stiff to take any comfort.

“You didn’t think it was me, did you?”

“They wanted me to. They’re close, aren’t they?”

She could feel it too, almost like a physical thing, the dark evil that was coming.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I doubted you. Just for a few seconds, I doubted you.”

“It’s alright love. You had a bad shock, don’t blame you for that.”

But she couldn’t stop saying it, for a brief moment she had thought he’d done it. More of a reflex action than anything and that upset her almost more than the death of her brother.

“I failed.” She looked into his eyes. “My first big test in this, and I failed.”

“But not a second time, love. Keep looking at me. They’ve made a big mistake, you know what you’re up against now. Angelus and his mind games. This is how he works, you just have to be on your guard.”

“I thought I was stronger than this, Spike.” She crept closer, feeling completely undeserving of the understanding he was showing her, and vowing that this would never happen again. She touched the new bandage on her arm and remembered what they’d done. How she’d said she’d be his always. “Tell me you believe I love you,” she asked him, almost desperately. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Buffy, I believe you.” Spike kissed her long and hard and then sat back., still holding onto her arms. “This is what Angelus does, it’s how he’ll break you. If you let him. Don’t fall apart on me now, love.”

She took a shuddering breath and wiped away her tears, but new ones kept falling. “My brother's dead and I’m scared, Spike, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to remember what we’re fighting for, that’s what…..

tbc.