Chapter 1:

With one final look at the phone, she knew. Knew that watching wasn’t going to change the inevitable. She’d caught the vibe, but had just ignored it in favour of the romantic ideal every young, naïve college girl falls for.

Buffy flopped backwards on her bed and covered her face with her pillow.

And screamed.

A tear struggled for release through her tightly clamped lids and slid down her cheek. It was a lament for her coming of age, her first college induction to the rule of free and easy.

Parker.

Was a complete prick and wasn’t going to call her.

Though something felt well and truly shattered on the inside, Buffy couldn’t help but feel a little gifted for being the wiser. Would have been pretty sad to hang onto hope when hope was nowhere near this little train wreck.

She had no trouble blaming the whole disaster on Angel. He was the one who told her to go and find a normal guy; try giving her heart to someone who could give her normal, human things.

Well, it certainly worked out that way, and Buffy was fast coming to the realisation that there were unfortunate similarities between vamps and men. One, males of both species were bastards. Two, she’d been deserted and humiliated by both. Three, they both turned evil and selfish the morning after.

Rolling onto her belly, and offering a few half-hearted punches to her pillow, Buffy again slumped face-first into the softness of the puff of foamy goodness, and closed her eyes. Tears remarkably dried after the first small river of self-pity. As the dark blanket of welcoming slumber descended, she could feel something strange begin to settle over her. Something ominous and a little terrifying. But the sandman had enticed her too far, and she passed over to the world where dreams could be even scarier than reality.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It wasn’t that the door was opened with a bang, but with the rush of bodies that pushed in with the force of a rhinoceros herd, that jerked Buffy awake.

“Oh, Thank Goddess,” Willow screeched, launching herself over a pile of bodies of the male persuasion to land unfettereddespite her startling actions in her friend’s lap. “We’ve been so worried,” sobbed Willow as Buffy watched her with a thought of how quickly to remove her.

“I just had the weirdest dream,” clarified Buffy in defense of her suddenly cold demeanor.

“You dreamed, you say? Fascinating. Was it a Slayer dream, perchance?” asked Giles amongst the pile of Scoobie testosterone that Willow had bravely trampled into the ground in her haste to be the first to greet Buffy home from sleep.

“Um, not sure. I’ll get back to you on that one. For now, I have this urgent desire to pee. Just how long was I asleep, anyway?”

A group cringe had settled at the mention of her need for the bathroom, but brave Willow stepped up with the required answer.

“Ah, three days?!

“Three days!” Buffy exploded from the bed in a rush down the hall, leaving behind a group of gawping stragglers, unsure of what path to take now that the seemingly comatose Slayer had once again gained her feet.

They had barely moved a muscle when she had returned, and the odd look on her face confirmed the discomfort in the room.

“Well, it’s, ah, getting dark, so perhaps we should head over to my flat and discuss what it is that might have occurred with you, Buffy.”

Buffy wavered, but then felt the rising of teenage grooming essentials as the thought of crossing campus in clothes she’d slept in for three days not being of the most desirable activities.

“Sure thing, Giles. I might just shower and change first. Meet you there?”

“Yes, well. Don’t be long, Buffy. Spike is still out there seeking the Gem of Amara and we must think of some way to prevent him locating it.”

Something flickered behind Buffy’s steady green gaze, and she nodded her acquiescence as the group preceded her out the door.

“Sure. It’d be nice to wrap up that puppy before the harsh light of day.”

She gathered her clothing and toiletries and snagged a towel before heading to the icky communal showers, eager to remove the yuck factor of grungy hair and dull skin, but not looking forward to the choice of venue. Times like this she missed living at home.

Half way through rinsing her hair for the second time, it occurred to Buffy that thoughts of Parker and his useage of her for sex had totally slipped her mind.

And instead, the unbelievable thoughts that filled it.

They left Buffy speechless. And unconvinced of their validity. Could anything be more farfetched? No, she determined to tell Giles the catalogue of events that seemed more important during the last three days than wakefulness, but she was equally convinced it was all just fanciful dreaming. Not even the soppiest soap opera could write a plot like that.

Confident once againin both cleanliness and the stability of the life she knew Buffy dressed then high-tailed it to Giles’s, with the most incredible story ever invented.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“That’s just…simply fascinating. So in three days worth of sleep, you’ve learned almost five years worth of events.”

“Yeah, massive on the disturbing.” Buffy turned to grab up a pencil, twirling it in the air before accidentally snapping it in half. “Oops,” she offered apologetically as she quickly shoved the two pieces under an opened book and looked around the room for another distraction.

Completely unbidden came images of Spike roped to a chair, and in the garbled disbelief of the possibility, Buffy cracked an amused smile. Never happen. Even if something did happen to make Spike vulnerable, there was no way he’d come to her and ask for help.

Her brow furrowed at the memory of Acathla and how he’d sought her out. He’d asked for help then, but it hadn’t been a weakness, just a smart move for soldiers to align. Even if he did manage to defect amidst the heat of battle.

The flinty inflection in Giles’s voice finally broke through her little reverie and she came back to the moment consumed with a sick longing for the dream to be reality. Whatever it took, there could be fun to be had with weakened Spike at her mercy.

But really, she’d only scratched the surface with the events she had relayed to Giles. Honestly, some of it was too upsetting and cruel to even contemplate. Things like her mother dying, alongside the appearance of a sister Buffy had never had were enough in themselves to convince the Slayer that three days of dreams was a pretty major joke on her behalf. You don’t just have sisters appear out of thin air.

“And Giles, there was just so much about these events that were really unbelievable. I mean, fighting Indians at Thanksgiving? That just reeks of taking Buffy for a walk on the gullible footpath of life. And some kind of commando type people actually patrolling, and a Frankenstein monster? It has to be a spell. Someone put a big scary, icky spell on the Slayer in an attempt to plant all these horrible thoughts on me.”

“For what reason, though? I do agree that it would seem like the most likely possibility, but what on earth would they hope to gain?” Giles rubbed his glasses in agitation, his fingers moving in absent circles with his while cloth.

Buffy shrugged, not really with the caring as she eyed a batch of perfectly baked cookies that Willow pulled from Giles’s oven. Déjà vu hit her down low and flashes of Spike kissage bombarded her. No freakin’ way was it possible that she had been engaged to him—spell or no spell. Even if the thought did make her feel all flushed and squirmy.

And that led to other thoughts, thoughts much more on the naughty naked side and Buffy had to quickly shut her eyes and squeeze those thoughts from her brain, before her panties bore the brunt of her fascination.

“And there was information about Angel, too, you say?”

Buffy nodded, snagging a cookie as Willow walked past. “Yumm,” she moaned as the chocalatey goodness exploded in her mouth, and again she was off, thinking of other things exploding in her mouth. The memories were so vibrant that her flesh began to tingle, so incredibly real for something she had never experienced.

“Right, we really must sit down and record all you can remember. Right now, though, it is imperative you locate Spike before he finds the Gem of Amara. If he finds it he will become invincible.”

Buffy snorted, imagining herself in a fierce battle in which insults fly and rings are torn off fingers, a smoky Spike disappearing down a sewer grate before he could turn to dust. Buffy frowned, for the first time wondering if there might have been a smidgen of truth to her dreams. She dismissed it again, munching distractedly on another cookie as Willow left the plate in the middle of the table.

“Check, find Spike, then record silly spell induced Slayer incapacitating dream. Gotcha.” Buffy rose to her feet, grabbing another cookie as she moved to the door. “Don’t frown at me, Giles. I’ve been all coma girl for three days. I think I deserve some sugary goodness.”

And she was gone, her slayer senses let free to seek out a master.
 

Chapter 2:

Patrol was a major suckfest. The ultimate suckage. Buffy giggled at her unintentional pun and sank back into her pillows, her arms curled up behind her head. It wasn’t strictly correct, though. Every graveyard she’d punned and spun her stake playfully through had been way too much of the quiet tonight. No sign of Spike; no sign of Spike’s minions. Her night was ending on the wrong side of dull and it forced a pout to Buffy’s plush lips.

Allowing the darkness to lull her into the steady habit of sleep, she let her mind touch again on the multitude of events that had been revealed to her in her epic sleep. Everything clanged with the ring of truth, but it was so much what she didn’t want for her life that she was quick to discard it as a spell, designed for some really odd reason that she just wasn’t grasping. Was it Spike? Making her think of his body in ways that would make her blood pressure shoot right into orbit and leave her too consumed by lust to think straight when fighting him?

That thought made Buffy smile lustfully. ‘Cause yummm, if those visions weren’t real, she wanted a refund. Or at the very least a replay before she had her memory wiped. Oh well, at least she would know one way or the other pretty soon. If she suddenly found herself fighting Spike in the sun, then she’d have to reassess the whole dream/reality thing. Right as she reassessed the goodness of Spike and his very salty looking abs. His very happy-making appendages.

Proof would bring a new set of problems. It would bring a multitude of events that she would need to take some kind of direction on. One of those dilemmas would be a major decision about her lovelife. From what she could see, in her future years she had the possibility of two men. And whoa, what a decision if those visions were really of the real. That TA she’d already so far not much noticed except for nearly causing him a concussion with a pile of books falling on his head—or Spike. Spike of the evil, soulless, drool worthy sexiness.

If she had proof, then what was the point of fighting the inevitability of events? Let me look at this objectively, she thought, flashing moments slowing through her brain until she made out specific ones that made her flush hotly. Except for the black depression that hung over her as she remembered and allowed her body to give in to the sensations. Spike making love to her, kissing her into oblivion as she lost herself in what he gave to her, and her fixation on being lost to Heaven. Being lost to that while she wallowed with evil. Except that wasn’t quite right. With her youthful distance, Buffy saw something. Saw it clearly though her obviously older self covered it with lies, abuse and apathy. And fear. Her future was filled with actions based on fear and distrust in herself.

It made her wriggle in shame. And frown at her friends. And shake her head at herself for her ignorance. What on earth did they think they were doing, bringing her back from somewhere they didn’t even investigate? What did she think she was doing taking advantage of someone/something that loved her to the point of his own abuse?

When she realised what she was doing, Buffy jerked to full consciousness and began to laugh. Laugh hysterically, because here she was getting all twisted up about things her friends had never done, her own actions towards an evil vampire that would rather see her dead on the ground than screw her senseless.

It was too recent since she’d last fought him and the possibility of her death was precarious. She’d spent enough time wishing him to dust. If what she had seen was true, he had a motive for returning to Sunnydale so often that wasn’t so on the evil side. Buffy grinned again. Now she knew his secret; she just had to work out what to do with it.

Closing her eyes once again and willing on sleep, Buffy relaxed and surrendered to immensely satisfying images.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

In a matter of hours, Buffy’s whole outlook had changed. When she walked across campus and saw Parker, she squashed down that small part of her that was humiliated for being used—and naïve for allowing it to happen—and took the time to do a quick scan for Spike. Her dreams had predicted his appearance during this fiasco, had shown her the words he had heard and later twisted to make her mad. This time as Buffy made her way over to the co-ed she had a bounce in her step, feeling kind of elated that she was going through a situation almost with the ‘do not do, do not say’ guidebook. She had a confidence in herself she hadn’t possessed since Angel, and it felt soooo good.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” she asked Parker as she barged into his barrage of pick-up lines. The girl he was with looked annoyed, if not a little suspicious as Buffy plastered her very shiny glossed lips into a smile at the target.

“Er, Buffy. Good to see you,” he told her, his bravado bolstered with misplaced confidence.

“Oh, that’s so nice. Look, I just wanted to tell you, that phone call? I’d really rather you didn’t call. The other night was really nice and all, but I’ve met this new guy, and whoa…he just knocks me off my feet. You know what I mean? He’s just like…wow—“ she faded out dreamily, licking her lips before suddenly coming back to it. “But he’s kinda jealous so I really don’t need you calling and mucking this up for me, ‘kay? I’m really sorry if it ruins your plans, although it looks like you’ve got another girl right here to take over from me. So, thanks.” She beamed a grateful smile and took a step away. Before her foot could take full weight on the ground she had spun back to the girl.

“If he asks you to do the thing between his…erm, you know, don’t do it. Kinda sweaty and not so of the nice.” Buffy screwed up her nose delicately and imparted a little shudder before turning and walking over to wait for signs of Spike, a sense of achievement adding to her springy step.

She saw him before she could even settle on the seat, his head tilted assessingly as he watched her. She could tell that he’d heard and the small frown on his lips was more than intriguing. Made his lips pout and that was dead sexy.

Buffy giggled. This was just…awesome. Completely fricken awesome and she so couldn’t wait to tell Willow. She jumped to her feet and rushed in excited steps to stand less than a step away from him. Rushed like she was going to launch herself into the arms of her boyfriend.

“Birds singing, squirrels making lots of rotten little squirrels. Sun beaming down in a nice, non-fatal way. It's very exciting, I can't wait to see if YOU freckle.”

Spike’s eyes bugged as he took the time to comprehend what she just said, eyes sweeping from her lips to her toes to her lips again. The godawful robot-like smile was making his head hurt and he clenched his jaw hard.

“How the bloody hell did you know the EXACT thing I had been thinking the past half-hour to say when I met you in the sun?”

“That’s how seriously predictable you are, Spike.”

Still with the loony grinning and it was putting him right the hell off. Even if her lips were all pink and juicy-looking.

Instead of wasting more time trying to figure out how this meeting was going wrong, he slugged her hard on the chin.

“Ow,” she said, her hand raising to rub the spot even as the smile slipped and hurt flooded her shining green eyes.

And what? He was noticing the colour of the Slayer’s eyes now?

“Ow? All you’ve got to bloody say is ow? Where’s the old one two? The attempted kick in the balls? The punch in the guts?” He was shaking his head completely wrong-footed, not knowing where to go with this odd little confrontation.

“We could go have a talk. Ooh, I know,” Buffy enthused, doing the bouncy thing on her feet again and making Spike dizzy with his compounding confusion. “Let’s go get some coffee. We could sit in the park and see if you do tan or if the gem prevents your skin from getting the real rays. Oh hey! Maybe it’ll not let you get sunburn at all. That would be so neat!”

“Are you completely off your bird?” he erupted.

“Come on, Spikey. Take me up on the offer. Otherwise, this is what is going to happen. We’ll fight, I stake you only to find out you heal right up, then you insult me, get me mad, I take the ring off your finger and you have to run so you don’t go all crispy. Let’s forget all of that and actually go have some fun with this thing. I’ll bet you’re loving the feel of the warmth on your skin right now.”

He noticed as her eyes gave him a quick, appreciative scan, looking in vain for small areas of skin.

“Might have to take off your coat.”

Almost like he was under a spell, he felt the duster shrug from his shoulders. Buffy caught it before it hit the grass, and embraced the leather in her arms.

“Perfect,” she beamed. “So, coffee and park or do you have somewhere else in mind?”

He just shook his head, his head too bewildered by the crazy girl who had taken over the Slayer since he’d last seen her. Maybe that Parker pillock had shot her full of some happy grass or something. A quick sniff didn’t uncover any familiar scents but one, and it was one that made his eyes cross. That scent he’d smelled on the Slayer the previous times they’d fought; the one that told him for sure she got a real kick out of fighting him. There was no adrenalin pumping the fight into her now, though. Nothing but the sun and the birds and a now impervious to harm vampire.

Nah, there was only one answer for it. The chit was cracked. Gone barmy in the head or had amnesia and didn’t know who the hell she was dealing with. Still, he didn’t fight her off when she took his hand in her free one and tugged him by way of downtown, and the ever-popular Espresso Pump.
 

Chapter 3:

Spike was beyond scratching his head by the time they made it to the park. Buffy handed him her Styrofoam cup and set about spreading out his duster on the grass, though she still kept them under the shade of a tree. She took her cup back and nudged him toward their makeshift blanket with an encouraging shoulder. When he was sprawled out all comfy in a way she could only imagine Spike would be, she plopped down beside him and had a good look. An appraising look. A hot hungry look that ended at his chest, too scared and embarrassed to venture any further just yet.

“Hey, I have a swell idea. Why don’t you ditch the tee and see if you do freckle? It could be like an experiment.”

Spike jumped back from her, eyes narrowing as she pouted at him in disappointment.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to take off my shirt?” His muscles bulged as her eyes watched every minute movement, body tensing as she swept over him and left him burning from something other than the sun.

She nodded her head enthusiastically, her smile once again almost blinding.

“Right. Off it bloody well goes then.” He said the last under his breath as he dragged it over his head. Confused why he was giving in, beyond mystified why he was even being civil with his enemy let alone sharing his duster with her as well as a cup of coffee.

Shirt off, he flexed his muscles experimentally, then leaned back on his elbows. He could almost hear the drool as it dropped from Buffy’s lip. Spike’s first genuine smirk broke out on his lips as he watched her fascinated response to his chiseled chest and arms.

“Slayer, this is the weirdest bloody experience I’ve ever had, you know that, right?”

She giggled, a high-pitched overly girly sound that should have had him cringing against it even as he lunged for her throat. Instead, he raised his cup and sipped at the coffee; watched her as her eyes were peeled to the ripple of his muscles as he moved.

“So, have you ever thought of not eating people?”

His mouthful of coffee went spewing across his duster and speckled Buffy’s face and floaty lavender top.

“What the bleeding hell are you about, Slayer?”

“Spike! You ruined my shirt. And you made me all sticky.”

“Sorry, pet. You took me a bit—“ He stopped in his tracks and went over the words he’d just been about to say and the ones that the Slayer had already hit him with. He ended up sputtering. “Now hold on a bleeding minute. What the hell is your game?”

Her smile was really beginning to creep him out.

“No games. I just got to thinking after we met up at the party the other night that we really never got the chance to talk in the past. All our problems would probably be completely resolved if we just sat down and had a bit of a conversation.”

“Didn’t we try that? You know, with the whole saving the world and all?” An inquisitive little twitch settled in the skin between his brows.

Buffy screwed up her nose as she concentrated on her memories of that night. “I really don’t remember the conversation part of that whole ordeal. Was that the bit where you were telling me about your philosophy on humans as happy meals on legs? Or when you were promising to take your ho of a girlfriend out of the country?”

“Ah,” he said, waggling a finger at her as he smirked knowingly. “There’s the snarky Slayer we all know and lo…love to hate.” He didn’t even seem to pick up on the insult to Drusilla, focusing more on the return of the normal Slayer routine, and his very odd almost slip of the tongue.

Buffy caught the slip and the power of her smile could have lit the city. She shuffled a little closer, picked up his discarded tee and wiped the coffee residue from her face as best she could, took a sip from her own coffee, then looked up and for the first time noticed the clean, clear sparkle of his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Yummm…” Buffy mumbled, completely becoming lost in the Spike-specific images of her uber long dream.

Spike spluttered over his coffee again. “What?”

“Yummy coffee,” Buffy told him as she held up her cup. “All with the caffeiny goodness.”

He began to relax in the sun when she wiggled even closer, her bent knees now lightly nudging his hip.

“Not that the company isn’t totally droolworthy,” was the only warning he got before her lips were on his, driving several nails into his belief that she’d fallen out of a tree onto her head. Then all thought disappeared as the heat of her tongue and saliva met with his and he was completely mesmerised.

She opened her mouth to him while winding an arm around his neck, her body shifting so that she was almost draped over him. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned as her lips swept over his, her eyes closed as she thoroughly gave herself over to the power of his mouth. She had almost climbed fully in his lap when he twisted and had her beneath him, his hand at her waist as his lips nibbled and sucked at hers.

She squirmed beneath him until he used his pelvis to hold her flat on the ground, another moan filtering into his mouth as she sucked in her belly, preparing and encouraging his hand to move over her skin. He ducked under the fabric and his cool fingers found scorching skin. Instead of springing him back to his senses, it almost fused their skin together. Her head rested in the crook of his arm, her hair tickling his forearm. His touch stoked a fire up the trail to her ribs and she suddenly arched desperately against him, her hand holding his head hard to her mouth as the other stroked the bare skin of his back.

“Holy Moley, Batman. What in the land of freak are you doing, Buff?”

The pair flew apart, Spike jumping to his feet and swiping his duster out from beneath the Slayer, the speed of its removal causing her to spin a little as she rolled onto the grass. She jumped gracefully to her feet and pounced, bringing Spike to the ground in a mess of limbs and duster. She jerked him over, looked deep in his eyes and hoped he got the remorse behind her actions.

“Be safe,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him again briefly even as she slid the ring from his finger. Even under the shade of the tree he started to smoke and she pushed him to the nearest sewer access tunnel as he wrestled with his duster to cover as much of his body as he could—infuriated curses thrown over his shoulder as he sprinted.

He jumped down in a flap of leather and an aggravated growl, but not before seeing the strange expression of longing the Slayer bestowed on him.

Buffy had a mixed smile on her lips when she turned back to her friend. She couldn’t decide between feeling sadness that her discovery time had been interrupted or happy that she’d gotten to try out Spike’s lips and find out that for sure her mammoth dream had been steeped rather deeply in reality.

As she took in the horrified gaping and gasping for breath as Xander struggled for words, Buffy felt like skipping. It was real. For some reason the Powers or someone had given her an intense peek at her life so she could alter, fix her mistakes and change her reactions and/or behaviours. She could save lives, save relationships, save herself and God, she could consume herself with enormous potential love.

Buffy grinned as she took on the responsibility, grasped the understanding and decided on action. She was destined to be with Spike, and she knew he came to her. True, it took some major metalwork in his head, but things would be A-OK in the long run. And it would be best if she began laying the groundwork right now. From what she saw, Xander and Giles were her biggest detractors in her future. Her mom liked Spike, Dawn liked Spike…Buffy stopped and frowned before pushing that little nugget of information aside for another time.

“Hey Xan, whatcha up to?”

“Not making with the sexy vampire lovin’ under the bright shiny sun, that’s for sure.”

Buffy melted with the visual, unable to dim her euphoric smile even though she knew Spike was going to be furious with her for stealing his ring. Oops, hope he doesn’t go and torture Angel thinking I’d send it to him, Buffy nervously thought as her fingers caressed the cool surface of the ring.

“Really sorry to hear that, Xan. Was quite an experience.” Buffy picked up the discarded coffee containers and took them to the nearby trashcan.

“Hey, what’s going on? You have that freaky dream that lasts half a week and now you’re macking on the undead. What gives?”

Bufy contemplated the quiet fury in her friend’s blackened eyes and sighed.

“Look, I’ll explain it all at Giles’ later okay? I have to go to my final class then I’ll come by.”

Without giving him a chance to nod or protest she was striding off, plans and organizing going on at a rapid pace in her brain. She had a vampire to tame.


 

Chapter 4:

 “A-are you quite certain that is what happened in this dream of yours?” Giles was struggling with his need to twist his glasses into useless scrap metal as he tried to come to terms that the dream they had thought was a possible spell, now seemed to be a message from the PTB. A message that had his Slayer convinced she was destined for the likes of soulless, murdering vampire Spike.

“Positive,” Buffy confirmed as she absently played with a crucifix, tossing it in the air and watching the revolutions as it spun with each hard flick of her wrist. She was grinning, caught up in how hot and tasty Spike’s lips were, running other scenarios through her head to find the next best opportunity for make-outville.

“And you got the gem off him?”

“Yup. He’s probably on his way right now to torture Angel for it.”

Giles shuddered at the memory of what Angel might consider torture. “A-and you don’t think it wise for Angel to have the Gem?”

“Nah, he’s just gonna destroy it anyway.” Buffy suddenly stopped the spinning of her cross and met Giles’s concerned eye. “I guess it’s not really right for me to not warn Angel about Spike coming, huh?”

Giles blinked. “I know you feel animosity toward him for leaving Sunnydale, Buffy, but no. It really isn’t.”

“Huh. Maybe I should head off to LA?”

Xander, who had thus far remained quietly confident Giles would force Buffy to back off the undead kissage, was shocked back into the conversation at the thought of Buffy rushing off to be around Spike again.

“That is so—“

“You’re so right, Giles. That’s exactly what I should do. So, wanna drive me? Much quicker than a bus. Might get there before Spike turns Angel into shishkabob. And hey, we can see how Cordy is doing.”

“Cordy’s with Angel?” Xander’s whole argument was immediately derailed at the mention of the brunette that got away.

“Well, not with with, but not that that wouldn’t have solved a whole lot of problems for them both. You so don’t want to see Cordy in cradle-robbing mode.”

“Cordy robs cradles?”

Buffy couldn’t hold in the chuckles. “Well not strictly speaking, but she nursed him as a baby and then to do what she did, that’s just too ewwww.”

The men watched her in amazement.

“You received messages in relation to Angel’s mission in LA?” Giles couldn’t hold the ferocious burn of his enthusiasm, the small boyish grin that established itself on his lips as he looked to Buffy for more information.

“Yup,” Buffy answered him absently. “Years and years of it. I mean, you’d think he’d learn, but oh no, back to the whole Angelus thing. But at least he didn’t really kill anyone I know this time. Still, redundant much? Sheesh.”

Giles just shook his head, ignoring the shudder that shot through his body at the thought of a resurgence of Angelus. Actually, come to think of it, it made him feel quite angry.

“But that’s absurd. How could he in all good faith take the risk of the flesh when he lost his soul the previous time?”

“Oh, he partook of the fleshy sins way before that. Angel has himself a little fling with Darla take-two and ends up a Daddy for real. Which is just so with the creepy. Must make Drusilla soooo big with the sibling rivalry.” Buffy stopped as she contemplated the intricacies of Angel’s family tree, frowning slightly and moving her head from side to side as she added it all up in her brain. “Actually, she’s also the grandmother and the granddaughter and I’m just gonna shut up now because this is so way beyond where I care.”

Giles took a sudden breath of frustration, wanting to reach for his journal and make Buffy sit down and tell him what exactly had gone on in the future years of LA but just as he leaned over for his pen she…

“Hey Giles. Time for the making with the movement. Let’s hit the road and be on our way to save Angel before Spike has him all filled with holes.”

With a newly lightened step Giles made to his feet and ignored Xander as he spluttered objections and reasserted his position on Buffy’s making out with the undead.

“Really, Buffy. Are you absolutely certain that you should pursue this …thing with Spike? I mean, he has been trying to kill you for a while now.”

“And like I told Xander before and after he hyperventilated and passed out on the floor, this is NOT up for debate. Spike will do great things for all of us, and he will love me more deeply than I ever thought possible. He dies for me and the world. His ass, therefore, is completely mine. No discussion entered into, from him or you. Get over it. Now let’s get going.”

Giles followed her out of his flat, shaking his head and stashing his journal and a small recorder into his tweed coat. You just never knew when a Slayer would get chatty.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Spike was perched on the roof of a building with the most deliciously perfect view. He could see every move of the poof’s dashing heroics and he could only shudder with the bliss he felt as his mind provided him with fill-in words that he was sure were far more accurate in telling Angel’s tale of detective magic.

“How can I thank you, you mysterious, black-clad hunk of a night thing?” He watched below as the pretty little blond looked up in awe at her paid protector. “No need, little lady, your tears of gratitude are enough for me. You see, I was once a badass vampire, but love and a pesky curse defanged me. Now I’m just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth.”

Spike cringed a little at the too recent events that saw him all curled up amongst the Slayer’s warmth with her lips doing wild things to his insides by way of his mouth. Oh yeah, he knew fluffy puppy’s, only he had none of that curse business, pesky or otherwise. But that was all just something he was happily blocking right out of his brain.

Spike grinned as he watched the blonde step forward to offer a physical sign of her gratitude and continued with the pseudo conversation that made much more sense to him than whatever drivel would be coming out of Peaches’ mouth.

“No, not the hair! Never the hair.” Spike patted down his own helmet reassuringly.

“But there must be someway I can show my appreciation.” He was getting a bloody kick out of this, pretending he was the woman and being all swoonish over the hero’s manly role in saving her life.

“No, helping those in need’s my job, - and working up a load of sexual tension, and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough!”

“I understand. I have a nephew who is gay, so—”

“Say no more. Evil’s still afoot! And I’m almost out of that Nancy-boy hair-gel that I like so much. Quickly, to the Angel-mobile, away!”

Spike relaxed back and lit a cigarette, smiling in evil satisfaction as Angel led his latest Buffy stand-in away. “Go on with you. Play the big, strapping hero while you can. You have a few surprises coming your way. The ring of Amarra, a visit from your old pal Spike-- and, oh yeah-- your gruesome, horrible death.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He didn’t feel guilty at all. No siree, not even in the slightest. Just because the Slayer had knocked him on his arse with her unexpected kissy inducements—no, he wasn’t going there again. Slayer pinched his bloody ring, had no doubt sent it to the vamp she really had the hots for, and now he was all set to get the bugger right back on his finger where it belonged. Just because it might set his little blonde enemy off was neither here nor there. He had a grandsire getting poked, he had a ring that wasn’t yet found, and he had invulnerability that he was eager to use and actually kill the bloody girl this time.

Angel was looking more and more like the pretty picture he’d made of Dru and Spike himself in their glorious past, and Spike found that he was getting less satisfaction from that as he’d thought. Still, it enabled him to bring the cheerleader and the boy toy along so they could see the state of their boss and give Spike his blood ring back. He was starting to get so frustrated that he thought he just might eat them all.

“There’s just one incy wincy problem,” the brunette ventured and pushed a few more of his buttons.

“An’ what the bleeding hell would that be?” The stupid bint had the audacity to grin at him like she had some kind power over him.

“That would be me, Spikey. I never sent the ring to Angel.”

Spike turned and felt a dawning horror make his appendages shrivel. “Oh, bloody hell.” He was captivated by her pout and missed the stake that appeared from some hidden place on her body.

“Oh, and honey? One thing. Your friend Marcus?” Her stake zoomed across the warehouse and found its target in the torture specialist’s chest. He exploded with a furious roar. Buffy giggled and batted her eyelashes at Spike. She waited until she was standing right in front of him and linked her arms around his neck, becoming happily reacquainted with the mesmerising depths of his eyes. “He was going to doublecross you.”

“And you what? Came to save me?”

“Yeah.” Buffy grinned while taking that little step closer, rubbing her body a little against his front. “Aren’t you glad?”

Right, there was no way that this was happening to him. This bint had gone right off her tree. First the kissing and the coffee and the daft questions about giving up the hunt, and now she was looking out for him and trying to get him to defile himself in front of his grandsire by showing his immense bloody attraction to her? She was bleeding insane. She could run rings all the way round Dru and still come out even loopier. He took a giant step back and broke her hold on him.

“Are you completely off your bird? Why would I be all relieved that the Slayer came screaming to my rescue.”

She was hurt. He could tell and it hit him a little sharply, even if he wasn’t going back on it or taking the step that would put her back in his arms. Even if he might like to see what that felt like a little more. He could see the way she studied him, and then felt like sighing deep his relief when she dismissed her watcher and friends to getting her real favourite vampire back out of harm’s way. He intentionally blanked out the loud protests of the one that wasn’t quite up to retaliation and smirked internally at the picture the ponce must be leaving with. Spike in the Slayer’s arms. If Buffy could blank it out and ignore the one she really loved to make cow eyes at him for half an hour than who was he to object?

And then they were alone and Spike was knocked into a wall as his body was propelled backwards by the force of the Slayer diving into his arms and clamping her legs around his waist. Seconds crawled by and he finally felt the plush softness of her lips. Felt the warm wetness as she consumed him with her need. She licked the slit between his lips and he moaned even as his mouth opened and he allowed her in, sucking hungrily on one ripe, succulent lip even as he wanted to eat her all up. She tasted like coffee, just like the other time, though this was more potent because he was becoming familiar.

He felt her hands clasp the leather of his shoulders and then she was writhing against him, her mouth leaving him so she could suck on his neck, bite his throat as she rubbed her breasts against his chest. He felt her little nipples, hard and pointed as they scraped over his T-shirt. He reacted in the only way he could think how. He thrust her away hard, letting her fall on her back to the floor and then he dived on top of her, his fangs buried deep in her throat.

The first drop on his tongue changed his motivation and he stopped lying to himself. This chit was bloody delicious, and one meal of her was never going to be enough. And as much an aphrodisiac as her blood was, he’d go bug shagging crazy if he offed her now and had no one to sate his lust in close vicinity.

“Spike?” She breathed into his ear, her hand stroking his hair rather than attempting to push him away. She had flinched at the sting of his fangs as they had pierced her flesh, but her panic had died down a little as she felt the slowing and then stopping of his deep pulls on her blood. “I know I’m confusing you, but if you want to stop with the bitey then I could maybe explain what’s going on.”

He retracted his teeth and licked gently at the wounds, losing himself in images of other bites and other times he would get to taste her. “Pet?” He couldn’t move, couldn’t resolve himself to feeling nothing but air pressed up against his body. “Think the best thing might be to just leave it. Nothing good can come of this, and as much as I have no bleeding clue why you are pulling tricks like this in front of Peaches, I want no part of it. Sick of women using me for their little mind games. You got the poof. Jus’ let me alone, yeah?”

He couldn’t look at her as he jumped to his feet and ran out of there with an added spurt of his vampiric speed. Buffy was left, this time reclining uncomfortably on a dirty cement floor.

But she remained alone nonetheless.
 

Chapter 5:

“Damn, damn, damn.” Buffy flounced through the door into Angel’s agency and felt very annoyed chocolate brown eyes burn into her.

‘Would you care to explain that little scene from earlier?” He sounded a little strained, as if he’d squeezed the words through barely parted lips.

Even though she hadn’t lived them, four years of resentment of his disappearing acts and lack of being there when he was needed burned her to her very fingertips. She had too much info, too many memories of Spike being there, being on the edge of there, of just being. And Angel thought he had the right to go quizzing her now about her decisions in regards to Spike? She was the Slayer, she didn’t have to answer to anyone, especially to some Neanderthal vampire who thought he could use his soul as a convenient excuse to hurt her over and over again.

“Let me see.” She held her finger against her lips and looked for all the world like she was contemplating what to tell him. “I’m thinking no.”

His face turned thunderous as he spun back and forth from Cordelia’s know-it-all smirk and Giles’s nonchalant shrug. “What do you mean, no?”

Buffy just smiled sadly as she made her way over to her first love. It was funny how only a week ago the pain of losing him from her life was so severe that she thought she would never survive it. Then just one whacky dream—admittedly one that lasted for days—had completely turned her around. Seeing what her life would have been like if she had continued on this way, mourning and moping over losing Angel then determined to achieve an unnatural state of normal just like he had left her to do. Having that normal life with Riley, her PA—just seemed completely ludicrous to her now. The promise of Spike and his love should be wigging her way out. Should have her with a stake with his name carved into it, hunting him down and making him dust before he put his filthy hands on her.

But.

Those hands were a lot more delicious than she might have ever known if she hadn’t taken that chance to check him out over a coffee. That one afternoon in the park had taught her more than the reality of that dream. It had shown her that every single tingle that the dream had inspired when Spike-centred had been real. Had been wonderful. It taught her that helping him to be good, allowing herself to see the good in him, see the love in him, could do nothing but make her happy.

She’d fallen for the wrong vampire. And though distance hadn’t wrought her newly gained maturity in respect to the issue, hindsight and foresight had met in a slow slide of comfort that she just accepted what she now knew and allowed it to shape her heart all over again.

There was no point philosophizing about it now. She knew too much, and Angel was much better suited to where he now was, and with whom he was with.

She gave Angel a hard hug. A friend hug; nothing sensual, nothing longing to confuse or add to the angst. She pulled back way before he could try to prolong the contact.

“Spike won’t bother you for awhile so don’t worry about it. He’s our problem. I”ll deal with him.” She finished off with a grin that showed how much she was actually looking forward to dealing with that particular problem. “By the time you see Spike again, he’ll be no threat to anyone.”

Angel stared at her as incredulity left him speechless. His jaw worked hard at the clenching until he finally came up with words that he could get past his teeth. “And what about that ring he poked me full of holes for? How come you didn’t give it to me?”

“What world are you living in? Do you think it would actually be a good idea to give Angelus a ring that would make him invincible? I doubt you’d be as stupid as Spike and allow it to be taken from you so easily.”

He had the grace to look abashed, but he mixed it well with his brooding efforts. “Angelus is gone, Buffy. I’m unlikely to go and repeat those mistakes again.”

His words had the opposite effect. Buffy saw ‘mistake’ and saw red, or luckily for her, peroxide. She was finally thinking straight and making some good decisions.

“No way with the guiltage. There is no guarantee that Angelus won’t find his way back in to the world and I can’t take the risk. I’ll take care of the ring’s existence, too.” She turned to her watcher with an arched brow and he found his way tiredly to his feet. “Oh,” she added as something else came to her mind. “If you go fighting any Mohra demons, be sure that you don’t touch its blood if you don’t want to be turned human. And just in case you were wondering, if you were human or remained all vamped, we just couldn’t work. Together we just aren’t right. I’m really sorry if you thought that maybe one day, but—” Buffy left off pointedly looking at Cordelia and giving her the most genuine smile she’d ever attempted on the girl. “So, we’re free to love other people. Good luck, Angel.”

With an overwhelming sense of freedom, Buffy led Giles out of the office and back to his car. She cringed looking at the drab-coloured car, but saw it rightly as her way back to Spike and climbed eagerly in. Even if the trip would take an hour longer than a normal car.

Free. No more Angel with ties on her heart. No more wishing and hoping that the one day with Angel would make it round to her before her destiny took her away from the world. Though apparently that wasn’t so much of the permanent even when it did happen.

No, she was completely available. And Spike didn’t know what was going to hit him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Desoto was a black blur as Spike pressed his boot harder on the accelerator and he shot out of LA. No matter how many times he’d turned the wheel to head away from Sunnydale, he still ended up on the road back to the hell pit. It wasn’t what he’d planned. Ten minutes away from the Slayer and he was making new plans on how to kill her; when to do it and how much satisfaction seeing her drained corpse would give him. But he needed time to recover, to rejuvenate, and so needed to get as far from the bloody chit as he could.

Which is how he ended up speeding back towards the place that saw more misery for him than success. Back to the home of the Slayer—to either kill her, or become more confused. He could go to her watcher and find out what the hell she was about. Scare the idiot into making her behave like a Slayer was meant to.

It was really beginning to piss him off that the images of her death—an event that he became more and more creative with in his head—kept shifting to ones of passion. Ones where his naked body got more than satisfied by being shagged to death by her.

He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her. She was beautiful in that nauseatingly goody-two shoes way. But he couldn’t give in to thinking of her that way. Just because she had completely gone off her nut, it wasn’t his problem. But if she offered herself up to him again, maybe he shouldn’t be so fast to knock her back. Could be a new tag to tack onto his evil Big Bad reputation. Killed two Slayer’s before thoroughly fucking another. Oh yeah, that would get him far in the demon world. But only if he killed her after the mind-blowing shag he suspected might be the result of letting down his guard. No, it was better to just kill her straight off. Twist her scrawny neck like he did the last Slayer, leaving no blood to drive his impulses into overdrive and possibly making a really bad mistake.

He slammed the brakes on about a metre over the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign, wishing he could do the same to other welcoming parties. If he could just mow the chit down his problems would be solved. He let his car rumble through the town and pulled slowly to a stop out front of the campus, hoping for a surreptitious glance at the Slayer in action. He did like to watch her fight.

There were too many walking about for him to find her, and he was willing to bet she’d be out in a cemetery somewhere. Didn’t matter. Even amongst all this appetizing fare, he could find her. Could sniff her out from a barrel of Slayers, so in tune with her he was. And that was courtesy of nothing but the many fights they’d had against each other. Had not a jot to do with the fact that she’d about branded him with her scorching heat and her tongue.

He parked the car and then found himself blending into the dark, creeping through evil in search of the one that had his purpose all twisted about.

And there she was, patrolling with one of her little friends, leaving the redhead exposed for all and sundry evil to take her down and feast upon her throat. Though Spike could admit it’d be a short meal before the Slayer had the idiot all dusty over her shiny boots.

Then he could hear her talking and it about sent him up the nearest tree.

“Buffy, you can’t trust him. I know you say you saw how it’s all going to go but those events had a sequence and he’s just not in the right place yet. You could get yourself killed.”

“Spike is not going to kill me, Will. If he was going to then he would have done it last night when he had his fangs in my throat.”

Despite his horror about how confident she was in believing she’d be completely safe at the end of his teeth, he couldn’t help grin and revel in the shudder that made the redhead’s whole body weak.

“I can’t believe you didn’t fight him off.”

Buffy sighed. She seemed more than a little sad. “I can’t believe he took off without any explanations. I mean, the kissage was just getting to the major wow part, and then he what? Can’t bear to know why I’m pursuing him that way, so he takes off as if his coat was on fire?”

Spike looked down a quick burst of paranoia just to check that she was making that one up.

“But Buffy, I mean, Spike? Are you really sure? Maybe the Power’s were telling you to dust him before he has so much impact on your life. Maybe having him around for the next so many years is actually a bad thing.”

Spike stood completely statue-like, shocked by the conversation and its implications. He wanted to run far far away so he never had to see the little blonde and any of these interfering Scoobies ever again. But another part of him held him still, wouldn’t let him move until he heard exactly what she had to say about him, about why she was doing this and not dusting him like Red and he both suspected she should be.

“Will’s, if you could see the way he loves. If you could see how loyal he is, how he cares and how he believes. He might be evil, but he has a heart that doesn’t deserve to dust.”

He was in shock, and holding himself fiercely back so he wouldn’t embarrass himself and tackle her outright and kiss her into an early grave. In just two sentences she got him, summed him up in a way he had wanted other women in his life to and then love him in return. Okay, she’d switched it all around on him again and he was all topsy-turvy, didn’t know his arse from his elbow and it was all because of a tiny blonde rocket. He was doomed.

“Okay, so he’s a deep feeler. I get that, ‘cause hey, devoted to Drusilla for much longer than she deserved. But that isn’t you, Buffy. Just because he may fall for you, doesn’t mean that you have to feel the same way.”

Despite being almost comatose at that little pearl of information, Spike stayed dumbstruck listening for her reasoning. Why the bloody hell did she decide to go for him? Was it just to drive him out of his mind? Because no one could deny that she loved the Poof first and foremost.

“You’re right.”

Spike felt a growl rise in his chest as she became the next in his line of women to hurt and deny him. So he watched as she flopped onto the grass and readied herself for her tale. She pet the grass beside her and Willow looked warily around before she lowered herself beside her friend.

“Willow, before the Power’s made me dream and see all of that stuff that’s going to happen to us, Angel was my life. I mean, there were you guys and the slaying, and my mom and school, but Angel shadowed everything. I made every decision based on what he wanted for me. I wasted so many years trying to be normal, to have normal just because that’s why he left, but deep in my heart I believed we would be back together. For years I hurt people that loved me because he changed the way my heart worked. He made me blind to the truth. I don’t think I can explain this in a way you will understand but the way that Spike loves is so completely selfless, so devoted. Angel is incapable of loving me that way. And before you go and think that I’ve given up Angel for Spike only because I can’t ever have Angel, I do fall for him. It’s too late when I finally admit it. I waste so much time denying him, Willow. It makes no one happy. I don’t have the feelings yet, but they aren’t that far away. I want him, Willow. It’s as simple as that.”

And Spike felt weak in the knees for the first time in his unlife. Before he could hear more, could be completely bloody neutered and rendered useless, he disappeared. He needed time to think and work out what in the hell she was talking about.

He’d confront her another day. Hopefully one where he’d claimed his balls back.
 

Chapter 6:

He was pacing. Pacing like a caged animal. The bloody bint had managed to curtail his normal activities and thoughts with the bizarre change of attitude towards him. It had him so completely out of sorts that all he was left with was the useless swirling in his head. One minute he was all set to tear out there and rip her head off her shoulders, but then the next he remembered her voice; quiet and sweet and caring. And her mouth, those lush lips that made offers that he should never have received.

So, like a man possessed, he’d given up the pacing and switched over to stalking. Which was far more satisfying to his evil bone than the useless chasing his tail he’d been doing while trying to make sense of what he had heard from the Slayer’s mouth. He was going about it all wrong. He should just confront the chit, make her tell him what all this was about.

But then that might just ruin the fun. She’d obviously developed a soft spot for him, and even though that knocked him for a loop, he could see now that it made her vulnerable. So what if she had somehow seen a side of him he more often than not kept hidden. An element of his personality only those closest to him had seen in the past one hundred years. Namely Dru since Peaches had done his cut and run. Anyone could get a soul and do the disappearing act. No, it took courage to stay with your family and work it out. Courage that bled from Liam’s body the second Darla’s teeth found his spongy neck.

In his distraction he didn’t notice the great moronic Neanderthal Angel rip-off that approached his Slayer, all wholesome and pure as he smiled sweetly at the girl. Spike felt a possessive growl rumble in his chest even as he held back and watched. Clenched his hands in clawed fists as Buffy sidestepped the boy’s approach and made some quick excuse to send him on his merry way. It soothed the demon in him and he couldn’t help but smile. Sure, he was going to drain the very life from her overly perky body, but in the meantime, no one with a face as smooth as a monkey’s arse was taking over his territory.

Spike reveled in the look of dejected sorrow on the git’s face before Buffy flubbed him once more and the enormous Angel clone continued on his way. Then Spike jumped a foot high as Buffy sighed out his name and called him to come out.

He hadn’t even felt his limbs move, blinking in confusion as he looked from where he had been standing to where he was now. Right in front of her, hands in his duster pockets and a slight tilt to his head that set her pulse racing. That was more than interesting. Had to be magic. No way did he just end up answering her call like some infatuated schoolboy.

“Right. Slayer.” He nodded his head at her abruptly in greeting, trying to hide how his lack of direction in this situation was setting him off-centre.

“Are you following me?” She beamed at him, her eyes glinting in the moonlight and her lips all shiny pink with some kind of gloss. She seemed too eager for it to be the truth and despite hearing what he thought he had, he was more than miffed by her scary about face in regards to him.

“Just out an’ about,” he lied baldly, trying hard not to let his left eye flinch. Bloody stupid nervous twitch. Always gave him away.

“Wanna walk?”

Before he could answer, she’d tucked her arm through his and led him off on a leisurely trek through the darkness of Sunnydale. He was completely screwed. For the minute he couldn’t even remember how he regularly cracked a neck. Or drained a vein. He even forgot to take a look at her throat. Her shiny lips were too much of a distraction, not to mention the perky breast pressed up against his arm.

“So, you know it’s kinda not safe around here in the dark these days?” Buffy asked, her voice all friendly and helpful as she squeezed his arm all flirty like.

Spike’s eyes bugged and then he barked out a laugh.

“What bleeding substance are you abusing, luv? ‘Cause I want some.”

“Ssh,” she hissed at him in warning. “They could be watching.”

He dropped her arm and spun around, scenting no one and hearing no heartbeats. He looked at her once more, felt himself shrink a little under the full impact of her sappy smile and came to a decision.

“Right. You’re too bloody barmy to kill tonight. I’m takin’ you home before you do yourself a damage.”

He grabbed her arm and began to drag her back to the well lit campus. She dug in her heels until he stopped, pried off his firm grip on her arm and then linked their hands together.

“You gonna walk me home? That is so sweet.” She grinned, and then taking advantage of his comatose like stillness, she dived in and pecked at his lips.

Spike expelled a strangled gasp, his shock making him suddenly inept.

“’M a bloody vampire, pet. What the—” Her hand slapped over his mouth and she looked around with worried eyes.

“Don’t say that,” she whispered as she got all close and personal with his ear. Her warm breath tickled and he shuddered. Thank the flaming Powers that he had his coat to hide all his body’s irrational reactions.

“Shouldn’t have to say it, Slayer,” he almost shouted, his mood bordering on hysterical with all the obscene niceness she was throwing his way.

And before he could say anymore, or get enough wits about him to bite her, she had her arms wound around his neck and was kissing him. Not like a sister, or an aunt or even a reasonably well known acquaintance. She was attacking his mouth with gusto, slipping her tongue over his lips even as she sucked on the lower, using her teeth to scrape delicately at the skin.

She’d blown up his brain. Obviously that gloss had some tranquilising effect on vamps and she’d completely neutralised him as a threat. There was nothing left for him to do but to follow the age old rhythm of kissing. Participate in the way his body was geared.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and he hauled her body against his, allowing himself to feel the roar of energy that flowed between them. His brain had completely shutdown so letting go to what she unleashed by touching him was completely acceptable. He couldn’t be held accountable for hormones—and a girl’s no less. He was evil.

“Hmm, ‘m evil,” he murmured against her lips even as his hand raised and tangled in her hair, not allowing her the possibility of breaking free of what she’d started.

“Very,” she agreed in a breathy huskiness that made all parts of him spring to life—except that one valuable part of him that sorted things out and had already closed its doors for the night.

And then she was sucking his tongue deep into her mouth, licking it and stroking it with her own as her leg started a slow and infuriating friction against his hip. It wasn’t enough, so he hooked her knee over his hip bone and raised her a little, pushing her back into the trunk of a tree as he began to grind himself hard into her. He felt his crotch aflame, everywhere she touched getting hotter and more urgent to be free of barriers.

As his hand wandered up under her top and zeroed in on a hard little protruding nub through her bra, he got the shock of his life when she very gently pulled him away. She was panting frantically, her eyes sweeping over every part of him as he watched her hands flex.

“This is so dangerous,” she whispered, even as her arms were reaching to take him back into their comfort and resume the madness.

It was enough to make his brain get that little kick it needed to start processing some things. He blinked, looked at her in shock and some kind of forced revulsion as he pushed away from her.

“Too bleeding right, I’m dangerous. You’re playing with fire, little girl.”

The little bitch had the audacity to giggle at him, slinking her body close to him as she reached out a finger to slowly trace the line of his bottom lip.

“Not you, silly. Doing this here. Too many nasties about.”

With a burst of fury he felt his body succumb to left over weakness—he shuddered. The finger waved over his chin and rejoined his shapely outline as she got closer to his abs. He felt a glint of satisfied carnal power as he watched her lick her lips in hunger, and then he all but squeaked when her hand swept over his muscles and brushed over the straining hardness against his zipper. He watched incredulous as she brushed against him again as her delicate little hand drifted back up, dawdling at the zipper. Her fingers flicked at it, her thumb nudging the stud that was the first hurdle to disrobing his lower half.

He couldn’t say a word. His member pulsed violently against the grating metal and he hoped hard for more, even as he wanted to drain her. Still, he was completely unprepared for her quick look into his eyes, her own heavily clouded with her want. They were alone. He could sense no one around them and he was completely open to seeing what she would eventually do. She apparently made the decision and before he could hear or feel the teeth pull apart he flopped free and in her hands.

His groan of pure animal lust got buried in the rumble of his chest as she was on him again, her lips raking hard over his as her hand clasped him almost painfully tight and stroked him to insanity. He felt the slow seep out of his slit as her fingers rubbed it into the tip, then sought her motion along the shaft. Without realizing, he started to help her pump his cock, pulling her closer so he could taste the fullness of her lips and the intoxicating heat of her mouth, all while shielding her with his coat.

Yet he was angry, feeling like she had some hidden power to make him useless and unable to fight and kill. He shouldn’t be feeling like this, shouldn’t be wanting to spill all over her pretty body and her glowing skin. So he rebelled in the only way he could. He took his hands off hers, let her do all the work for no payoff. She whimpered at his lack of return on the kiss even as her hand sped up and he could feel the hot burn in his balls as the pressure rose and he exploded, shooting himself all over her clothes, her hand too inexperienced to know how to cup it and prevent the spurting fountain.

Buffy flushed crimson as she took in the thick off white slime that was now clinging like snot on her top, wrinkling her nose a little even as the humour came to hit her between the eyes. Still, she was speechless, her eyes searching desperately for something in his and dropping in embarrassment when she was unsuccessful. For the first time she felt confusion shroud her decision. He didn’t want to want her. Willow was right. He wasn’t ready to love her yet. All she could do was sigh sadly and wish it were different.

She couldn’t help the tear in her eye as she caught him looking at her. Buffy wiped the stickiness off her hand onto her shirt, shrugging at the added grossness. She could tell Willow it was a demon. The lack of lie made her lips curl in a smile, but still Spike looked at her like thunder was his father. The slayer felt sadness settle on her shoulders and unlike her previous behaviour she asked instead of pushed.

“Can you keep walking me home?”

Spike tilted his head and contemplated her change, her loss of confidence. He was NOT going to give it back to her by telling her what that little act of submissiveness had felt like. No bleeding way was he making himself more vulnerable to the slayer.

“’M sure you know the way, pet. Best for me to be on my way.”

She could only nod and Spike felt surprise as he heard her heart slow. “Okay. But be careful. Please? Promise me.”

“Sure, Slayer. Just like the Big Bad to go scampering off afraid of a little beastie or two.”

Before she could object to his blasé attitude, he’d gone. Like a blur of black and white he left her with further warning just a whisper on her lips.

“Just come to me when you need me, Spike.”

Feeling a mix of euphoria and dejection, Buffy went back to her dorm to wait. It was only a matter of time.
 

Chapter 7:

Two days.

”Buffy, have you seen Spike recently?” Giles attempted to break into her preoccupied state, getting worried for the lip she had gnawed at till it was bloody.

“No,” Buffy answered loudly, her mounting concern obvious.

“Hey, no need to stress. So the Big Bad’s not lurking at our necks. That can’t be anything but good.”

“Shut up, Xander!” Buffy and Giles shouted, the Watcher blinking in surprise at his own irritated yet spontaneous reaction.

“Xander, you’re not helping.” Willow patted his hand and gave him a dim smile, not liking how he kept denying the truth of what Buffy wanted, even if she herself thought it was beyond risky and just an incy bit suspect.

“So, what are you thinking, Buffy? Do you think he’s left or possibly been caught by the Initiative?” Giles rubbed his glasses, letting the fabric of his hanky hypnotise away his own anxiety.

“I haven’t been able to sense him around anywhere, and I really don’t think he would have left without taunting me about it.” Buffy started pacing, wringing her hands in a very unusual display of her worry. “I think he must have been caught. We have to get him out.”

“What? No! Didn’t you say he gets some chip thingy? Leave him there and make sure he gets it. Chips ahoy. It’s not like we don’t know he’ll be alright.”

“Xander Harris, if you don’t sit your butt down and keep your lips zipped, I’ll ban you from Krispy Kremes for the rest of the year.” Willow huffed in satisfaction as he quickly fell to the couch and pressed his lips tightly together. Then she turned to Buffy, frowning at the concern her friend and the Slayer seemed to be consumed by.

When she saw the little diamond of a tear fall down the blonde’s cheek, she stood up straighter and determined to help.

“What do you want us to do?” she asked and let her breath whoosh out on a heavy sigh as Buffy seemed to perk up and get a little more business-like.

“I have to get him out. No matter how long he’s been in there they would have given him the chip first. The rest is probably torture and studying him like he’s a lab rat. I don’t have clearance to get in this time around, so I think the best bet is for me to get caught.”

Giles and Willow’s eyes widened in shock.

The ‘NO’ that exploded into the room was no surprise, and rather than show her apprehension about the plan that was niggling away at her brain, she smiled.

“I’m gonna need you guys to help me.” She ignored their shaking heads, the almost volatile Xander struggling with his earlier fear of losing his favourite snack by opening his mouth with the other two. “There’ll be magic involved,” she added chirpily and giggled at seeing Willow’s whole demeanour change.

“Ooh, like what? What kind of spells?”

Buffy chewed a little further on her lip, ignoring the sharp pain and the bitter taste of her own blood. “The first thing I guess is that they won’t catch me unless they think I’m a vamp. Will, can you do something to make me seem like a vampire? Cold blood, no pulse, that kind of thing? Then again, maybe a glamour or something? I could attack them and they would just take me down.”

“But Buffy,” Xander shouted, his concern overwhelming his possible loss of his fave donuts. “What if you end up with a chip in your head before you can wake up?”

The Slayer looked at her brawny friend in approval.

“Great thinking, Xan.” Buffy quickly turned back to the firepower of this little rendezvous and shot out ideas, knowing Willow was more than up for the challenge. “Okay, they have these tazer type weapons they use to debilitate their prey. What if you could juice me up? Or how about allowing me to somehow induct the energy from the tazers and then I can act knocked out, even though I’m really not.” She beamed, really excited about her ideas and eager to get out there and save her Spike.

“Maybe you guys can follow along behind and watch how they take me in. That’ll really help when we need to go back in and take out their operation permanently.” Buffy’s bravado was catching and the military man in Xander was revelling in seeing the inside of an operation such as the Initiative.

Giles and Willow dived to the shelves, eagerly pulling out all volumes that might feature spells like the ones Buffy would require.

They had until nightfall.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She recognised Riley through the memory of overt closeness. The type of closeness that now made her feel slightly green for not experiencing the attraction again.

He was with his army buddies, covered head to toe in camouflage wear and grasping hi-tech weapons. It was the way he walked, the way he spun around looking for evil to catch and hogtie back to base.

When Willow had completed the spell and made Buffy a glamourised vampire, they’d all gasped. “Whoa. You look a bit like Darla,” Xander had immediately told her, looking a little sheepish at her roll of eyes.

Now she stood and chuckled at how she was going to put a spanner in their works, or was it a hammer? Whatever, she was getting in and getting Spike so out.

So when she found herself in front of their group, she had a smile on her face. Fake lumpies and fangs making her skin itch.

“Hiya boys. Whatcha doin’?”

Riley stepped forward, his body strong with his over supply of bravery. “I think we were out looking for you.”

Buffy tilted her head to the side and felt a flutter in her heart at how she was adopting Spike’s moves. Her arms crossed over her chest and she jutted out a hip, her lips still showing her amusement. “What a coincidence. I was looking for something big and juicy to eat before bedtime, too.”

They didn’t move in response to her easy, conversational threat. Buffy had thought that she would be majorly wigged at being all vampy for even an hour, but it was kind of fun. Fun in that way of the getting of revenge for leaving her and being a vamp chew toy. Yeah, she could live with it. Especially if she got Spike out of there.

It was like a Mexican standoff. Buffy couldn’t help herself; she giggled. Then attacked, taking Riley down hard as his second and third in command—Forrest and Graham—scuttled around to help him up while preparing their stun guns.

Buffy flinched a little at seeing them charge, but felt confident in Willow’s abilities. She’d seen in her dreams what Willow was capable of after all. So she let them sneak up behind her, allowed her fists to defend herself against a group that were intent on doing her as much harm as they could. She felt a peculiar lack of guilt as her fist sunk into Riley’s softer belly and he was winded, dropping to the ground on his knees as he let out a few gasping breaths.

And then she felt the prongs latch on through her clothing, bolts of electricity not quite hitting her body so much as being absorbed by it. The flash of light behind her eyes was all she needed to know that it was time and she collapsed—apparently unconscious—at their feet.

Buffy felt them fling her around, wanting so much to snap out of this pretend sleep and give them the fight of their lives, but Spike meant more than her own discomfort right now. Still, she tallied up all their vile touches and rougher than rough handling, and smiled within at how she was going to bring them all down. With a chipped vampire by her side. Sheepishly, she added the rest of the Scooby gang while she tried to think of other things so she wouldn’t snap to it and start the round of revenge before she even got to the lab.

Her eyes were closed but even she knew when she crossed into the stark cold of military white. One eye opened barely a slit and she could tell she was about to be locked in a cell, which would kind of defeat her whole purpose. So she bucked against the shoulder of the soldier that was carrying her and struck out with one booted foot as she gained her balance, her lightening movements managing just to prevent the soldiers from getting out and locking her within. She knocked them unconscious, all but Riley as she grabbed his limp and pained body by his army regulation shirt and tugged him out of the cell.

Buffy’s eyes widened at the long rows of sterile cells, holding more demons than she thought actually existed on the Hellmouth.

“God. Did you actually catch all these here? Some of them must be harmless if I’ve never come across them.”

Buffy ignored the grunts of discomfort from Riley as she dragged him down the row, her eyes fixated on finding Spike and getting out. He was half way down, and as she attempted to use the slidy card thingy she stole from one of the more comatose of the soldiers back at her own cell, Riley decided it was time to bear through the pain and try to be the hero. His knees buckled once Buffy had his arms twisted behind his back.

“Now now, you gotta learn when it’s time to just stop fighting the inevitable. You’ll never win against me, Riley. I’m too strong. Now, let’s get Spike, shall we?”

The door slid open as Riley stared at her in confusion, the vamp face still in effect. Buffy was relieved, knowing that it would cause a whole world of problems if Professor Walsh could identify her now. She wasn’t ready to embark on that part of her ‘tell all’ dream, so being all vampy suited her just fine for now.

Spike was passed out on the floor; the scent of human so close doing little to alert him to danger. His eyes slid open a crack and he flinched at the brightness of fluorescent light before slowly dragging himself to his feet. He licked at dry, cracked lips and stumbled at his weakness.

“Bloody hell, what did you bastards do to me?” His voice was rough, almost broken with thirst.

Buffy felt no guilt as she punched Riley hard, letting him slide immobile to the floor and freeing her arms to grab hold of Spike and move him to the door. She felt cold at how pale he was, how malnourished he looked. And felt a surge of anger at herself that she’d needed him to get the chip so he could be part of her life.

Amazingly there were no sirens yet; no one had discovered her infiltration of the system and the scattered downed soldiers littering an empty cell further down the row.

“Move that ass, Spike. If we don’t get out of here now we may never escape.”

Spike stopped in dead shock, his weakness and surprise overwhelming his feet as he stumbled.

“Slayer?”

Buffy grinned then leaned forward and quickly pecked him on the lips. “Come on, Spike. You look so deader than usual.” She giggled quietly as she slung his arm over her shoulder, bearing his weight as she pulled him back to a quick walk, cleverly avoiding any main turns that showed an abundance of army authority. Finally she found a grate and pushed Spike through, relieved at last to be on their way out. It had all happened so fast and they were back outside the secret compound, left to bask in relief under the shining moon.

When she turned back to Spike, she embraced his weak frame hard and in giddy happiness she didn’t even feel insulted when he opened his mouth.

“You look right tasty as a vamp, luv. Though a little too much like Darla for my tastes.”

In the space between her thump on his shoulder and her blinding smile, she changed, her Slayer face back to dominate her features.

“Ahhh,” he sighed, allowing himself to collapse a little in her arms. “Never thought I’d prefer that look, Slayer.”

Buffy kissed him again, her happiness catching on a little as she dragged him further to safety. Back to Giles’s where they had packets of blood all set up.

No more words were spoken as she led him to her Watcher’s apartment, and they slipped comfortably into the night, leaving uproar and anger in their wake.

It was all as it should be—and more.

 

Chapter 8:

Every time his eyes fell on her, she was smiling. No, grinning. Like a bloody loon, if the truth be told.

His arse was parked on the Watcher’s couch and it was all he could do to not faint with unaccustomed weakness while he waited for the idiots to feed him. He’d tried to dive for the boy’s throat—the one he’d almost managed to eat the year before during his ill-thought out attempt to retrieve Dru through magic—and managed to do nothing but fall on his face and succumb to a blinding pain that ripped through his skull.

Now he was on display like a circus freak, the Slayer and her goodie brigade watching him with a mix of wary and excited interest as he swayed from side to side on the verge of passing out. His body ached with fatigue and his head pounded enough to set his fangs on edge. And all these humans with pumping hearts were making his mouth water. If it wasn’t for the Slayer sitting right there, smiling softly at him like he was her long lost love brought back to her, he’d probably try to snack on them again. The little redhead had always been one he wanted a taste of. Pity her high-pitched chatter and rambling annoyed the piss out of him.

“Which bloody one of you is goin’ to come peacefully and offer me a snack?” His eyelids were drooping even as he fixed on the Slayer’s delectable throat and he licked his lips. He almost felt her shivered reaction and then it was black and he didn’t care anymore.

The Scoobies watched as the Big Bad they’d all been terrified of for the past two years flaked out in front of them.

“Well, that was a great load of anti-climactic fear,” Xander confirmed, Scoobies nodding in agreement even as they eased up a little.

“Xander, you told me this vampire was scary. He doesn’t look scary. He looks seriously in need of some good orgasms and some blood, but not scary.” Anya shared her rather oblivious grin with the surrounding crowd and then took another look at the resting vamp and licked her lips.

Buffy jumped to her feet, her hands already on her hips as she positioned herself in front of Spike.

“The vamp is NOT for you to play with. You have Xander to give you orgasms, and trust me, you two should stick to that. Come near him and I will conveniently forget your recent affliction of human status.” Buffy glared at the other blonde, feeling a slight satisfaction as her sappy grin slipped and she was backing away nervously.

“Whoa there, Buff…got it loud and clear. I see a Buffy stamp right there on his forehead. See, with the swirls of red paint that says, ‘Property of the Big Bad Slayer’?”

Buffy loosened her stance just a little, feeling suddenly guilty that she might have overreacted a tiny bit.

“Right…yeah…kinda sorry about snapping at you,” Buffy mumbled almost incoherently as her eyes searched for another focus and a change of topic. She saw Giles on his way to the coffee table, an armful of ropes hitting the polished surface with a thud.

“Oh no,” she objected, knowing all too well from her three day dream that chaining Spike to bathtubs and tying him to chairs was just massive on the overkillage. “He won’t be able to hurt any of us with the chip. Remember? I told you guys this. He’s all ‘grrrr’, but now without the ‘argggghhhh’.” Buffy was nodding at each of her friends in turn, a big happy smile on her face that was shocked right off of it the next second when a low, growly—possibly hungry—roar hit her eardrums.

“Is that bloody right, Slayer?” The outburst seemed to wipe out Spike’s vocal chords for a second and he pressed his lips together while waiting for another build-up of strength. His glaze flicked around the room and alighted on the smug face of the boy that he’d tried to munch on earlier.

Before he let words sap him of energy again, he wobbled to his feet and stood as menacingly as his shaking body could allow in front of the slayer, letting the curl of his lip show his derision.

“An’ pray tell, Miss Almighty. Why am I so bleeding helpless and fangless in your priceless estimation?”

“Oh no,” Xander objected, taking an initial step forward before his old prejudices and fears kicked in and he hastened to retreat that telling move. “Buffy knew it. Said you needed the chip and waited, or we would never have helped her get you out.”

It was a glare of pure hate as his face turned to ridges and fangs dropped.

“You self-righteous bitch. You knew those bleeding wankers were going to do something to me and you just sat on back and waited till they’d done it? What, do they give you a cut of the profits or something?” he snarled with feral fury.

Buffy stood shocked, contemplating either bursting into tears because it was all going so wrong, or belting Xander several times over the head for letting out the facts before she’d thought to tell him to keep his big over-confident mouth closed.

She couldn’t stop her bottom lip from wobbling though, and the confidence leaked from her stance as her green eyes were speared by furious amber.

“No. I-I just thought—“ She tried to stop her body from shaking, knowing that if she just took several deep breaths she could bring it all back on track and Spike would see she was just what he needed.

“Thought what? That one pet vampire is just not enough? I’m not interested in whatever games you’re playing. You’re turning my head inside bloody out and it’s got to stop.” He was struggling to get control of his fangs, wanting so badly to dive for her throat and make the bitch hurt.

“But…you need me?” Buffy sputtered hopefully, her eyes pleaded with him to just stop and give her a moment to regroup.

“Like hell do I need someone like you. You’re a bleeding menace, and not just to my peace of mind. No Slayer, I think you’ve done more than enough.” And in one giant huff, he’d managed to stumble to the door and was out in the night, too high on adrenaline and fury to know that he could be doing little but standing in dangers way.

One thought clicked over and over on repeat, bloody hell he was hungry.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He couldn’t believe it. He knew the Slayer resented the fact that he was strong and had so nearly killed her on numerous occasions. But was she so jealous she had to render him completely unable to defend himself?

After the fifth attempt to sink his fangs into a succulent and promising neck, he’d about keeled over in blinding pain. He was in the process of looking for something sharp so he could cut his own head off, anything to stop this mindless torture. And then came the knowledge that he needed help, and it galled him no end that he’d have to almost crawl back to the evil troupe that called themselves White Hats. They were more evil than he was for what they’d allowed. She could have just staked him, given him a challenge and a death worthy of the master that he was. Was. Hardly a master now when he couldn’t even hunt and feed himself. Instead, she’d bloody neutered him like some troublesome dog.

As Satan and Angelus was his witness, he’d find some way to snap that pretty golden neck before he was done, or have his head explode while trying. Then again, he could be just left to hang out in this fabulous display of sunlight and dust all over the Watcher’s front door mat. Spike could be considerate like that. He’d even ignite and take his raggedy blanket with him.

By the time the door creaked open, Buffy spying who it was and hauling him violently inside in relief, he didn’t much care about the spark that had started a tiny fire on his back. She belted him good, though, and put that little flame out, digging into a spot of charred flesh while she was about it.

Spike was laying chest down on the floor, letting his cheek rest on the Watcher’s lovely carpet as his vision blurred from starvation. He was finished with the lot of it. Too hungry, too tired, too disgusted with his unusual vampire weakness. This floor looked right comfy and as far as he was concerned, he was happy to lay there and rot, as long as he never had to look at that chirpy ‘I told you so’ face ever again.

“Spike? Spike. Come on, don’t be a big vamp baby. Sit up and let me help you.”

He rolled over and saw a grinning Slayer swimming in his vision above him.

“’M hungry,” he told her, refusing to acknowledge the blissful looking smile she was bestowing on him while she picked up his hand and began to help him off the floor.

“Well, of course. That’ll happen when your little Happy Meals get taken off the Spikey menu. What can I getcha? And did I say yet, ‘I told you so’?”

He had that small bit of energy left in him to remind him who he was. Remind him why he was where he was. Spike snarled and let his lip curl in that way he loved to show how much he hated who he was talking to.

“Screw you, Baby Hitler.” He wrenched himself away from her helpful hand and almost fell the rest of the way to the sofa, smirking internally at how the description fit. She was twice as ferocious as the little Nazi bugger, and he would know, having met the burk at least twice.

Once he made it to a reclining position, he gave up on caring if they ever gave him food, ready to die by whatever means was quickest. One deep breath and he caught the faint whiff of distress, but as his own was rather high on his ladder of concern, he couldn’t give a toss about it.

His audience looked on as he faded out once again, sprawled spread-eagled over the couch like he owned it.

Buffy sniffled as she kept her eyes clamped to his body.

“M-maybe I made a mistake?” she said as she looked and found the sympathetic glances of her friends and watcher. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let him get chipped. I was being selfish. I had no right, and now he may never forgive me and I’ve ruined everything the Power’s showed me. What good is having visions if I just muck them all up?”

“Buffy, I’m sure everything will turn out okay. I mean, he’s all hungry vamp right now, and look, he’s a bit on the weak side, and no guy likes his girl to see him weak. Being a vampire, I’m sure looking less than his powerful mastery best in front of the Slayer is not the height of his happy moments.” Willow rubbed Buffy’s back reassuringly, her eyes wide with panic as she looked at Xander and Anya for some input.

“Yeah, Buff. I’m sure once Captain Peroxide gets some blood down his belly, he’ll be all with the happy and the smoochies in no time.” Xander was looking like he wanted to puke at the sentiments he had just given voice to. His lack of desire to see his Buffy anywhere near the bleached misfit weighed heavily on his staking hand, despite the rather definite chin wobble that Buffy was struggling to control.

“You really think so?”

Why oh why was she looking at him to confirm the obvious disaster of all things joined vamp and slayer?

“Oh abso with the lutely. It’ll be terrific. But hey, the guy needs blood. Giles?” he bellowed as he quickly moved away from Buffy’s hopeful gaze, not wanting to be sucked into this farce of a relationship anymore than he already had been.

An agonised moan on the sofa had Buffy rush to give his poor head a pillow in her lap and she looked frantically at her Watcher, still rooted to the spot despite Xander’s attempts to drag him away from the situation like some kind of alibi when things went wrong.

“Giles?” She’d caught him, decidedly punishing him for standing still throughout the drama. “Can you heat the blood up?”

And they were all active, some like Xander darting out the door for other day to day activities that didn’t include feeding impotent vampires. Giles tended to the necessity of blood, surrendering his least favourite mug to the cause, so that his Slayer stayed happy and functional.

The smell of blood brought him to, wondering at the slight incline of his head on something soft. When a mug was waved under his nose and he was helped to sit, he finally realised he’d been cushioned on his enemies lap.

He took the mug to his lips without a word, sipping slowly despite the great tearing hunger that made his whole body hurt. He felt himself held upright against her body, felt the warmth of her flesh even as he was infused with the artificial heating of his blood.

With resigned acceptance he fed, leaned on her and mentally plotted his revenge. Before he was dust he would see this room coated in red.
 

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