Buffy’s first reaction as she stepped into the darkness of the Nex was to give in to a coughing fit. The smoke was thick with both legal and illegal substances, and the Slayer was having a hard time breathing. She let Spike push their way through the demons loitering by the entrance, keeping her eyes respectfully to the ground. She didn’t want to have to meet their gazes as they were roughly jostled out of the way.

Curiosity getting the best of her, the young blonde took a quick moment to look up and take in her surroundings. The place was vast--much bigger than the Bronze--and it was packed with all kinds of demons, although most of them seemed humanoid in appearance. Maybe it was a cheap cover night for vamps or something. There was a second floor, where she could see a bar, some tables, and maybe even some gaming. Of course, demons and gambling went hand in hand.

She felt herself being pulled through the crowd and could tell that they were approaching the stage, where the band was playing very loudly. She stretched to look over the crowd and see what this band looked like, but didn’t have any luck. Still trying to take a peek, she walked right into Spike who, surprisingly enough, didn’t reprimand her as a proper master should have. Meekly looking up at him, she saw that he had removed his human mask. Following his gaze, she saw that he was transfixed with something out by the stage. Moving behind him, she waited for him to make the first move, trying her best to quell any urges to elbow him in the ribs.

***

It felt so right to be back among his own kind. He’d missed being surrounded by other demons, not having to watch what he said or did, like he had to in Sunnyhell. Slipping comfortably into game face, Spike took in all the sights and smells his super-developed senses detected. If the music was loud before, it was nearly deafening to his demon--but he didn’t mind that, music was always better way louder. Breathing deeply, he could smell all the emotions, from the anger and exhilaration in the mosh pit to the arousal of the couples hitting on each other. It was all amplified, just as it should be. Life shouldn’t be lived in pastels when everything could be experienced in Technicolor.

Pulling the Slayer along, he stopped where he could watch the band. He felt Buffy bump into him, but paid her no mind. His attention was fully occupied with the Headstones and the frenzy in which they’d whipped the crowd. The lead singer seemed to be wearing more hair gel than the poof himself, dark hair spiked high. Apart from that, though, they pretty much seemed like normal blokes, wearing jeans, black t-shirts and cargo shorts. They were in the middle of a number, and Spike listened to the lyrics.

Yeah, he’d listen to these guys. He took his eyes away from them for a quick moment, to make sure that his pet was still with him. He looked down and noticed that she was fidgeting--she wasn’t used to standing still, especially not with so many demons around. He assumed that her Slayer senses must have been tingling overtime. He brought his gaze back up to the band, pulling apart from the crowd. He’d have to get Red to see if she could steal some of their music on that Napster thing he kept hearing about.

Even over the whooping of the crowd, Spike still caught the “Eww...” that came from the young woman trailing behind him. Snickering, he led her away from the music. “Follow me, pet.”

***

When they broke from the crowd, Buffy found herself taking deep breaths. Ok, not deep healthy breaths, but she was sure any air was better than the limited oxygen she’d been exposed to near the stage. That was the crappy thing about being short (well, one of the many crappy things about being short)--lack of air in crowds.

Spike led them to a booth and told her to sit down, walking away in the direction of the bar. As she watched him saunter away, she noticed for the first time just how much attitude he’d regained while in the Nex. Head up high, cocky swagger and billowing duster, sneer on those soft lips of his... Great, he’s treating me like a pet and all I can think about is how kissable those lips are. It was as if she was back in the company of the Spike she’d first met about four years ago.

Staring at the retreating form of her ‘master’, Buffy never noticed the large horned demon until it was sitting beside her. She turned quickly, looking at it, before remembering her ruse. She edged away from it a little and brought her eyes to a spot on the tablecloth. Maybe if she ignored him he’d go away. Yeah right, he’ll just kill you whether or not you look at him. What else do very, very big horned demons do?

As if the question had been asked out loud, the demon began to howl. Nearly jumping out of her skin, Buffy looked askance and noticed that he was... crying?

The demon began to play with her hair, bawling and talking at her in some weird language. No longer afraid, the young woman was embarrassed beyond words. She just wanted to crawl under the table and wait for Spike to throw ol’ Horny (ugh--that doesn’t sound so good)... ol’ Whiney out on his ass. Throwing a glance around the room, where the hell is that bleached wonder?, she noticed that many of the patrons were looking in her direction and laughing. Great--she could just chalk this up on her list of things she’d never live down.

When Whiney began to blow his nose on the tablecloth, the Slayer decided that enough was enough. She made a move to get up--find any excuse to remove herself from the blubbering demon’s proximity--when she saw a flash of black.

“Sit back down, pet. I told you to stay put.”

A drink was placed in front of her, and she’d downed half of the glass before noticing that whatever it was, it contained no alcohol whatsoever. Looking up at the bleached vampire under hooded lids, she saw that he was smiling at her predicament. She fought the urge to kick him under the table--that may have been acceptable at the Calico, but not at the Nex, and certainly not with the roles that they had taken. Smug bastard--he’s so getting it when we get out of here...

It was just his Slayer’s luck to have attracted a Raumnek demon. They were scary looking--big, hulking horned things, but they were about as harmless as the kittens for which he’d played poker. They were a drag to be around, though, their constant despondency almost as depressing as Peaches’ brooding. Catching the quick warning in his pet’s eyes, he figured it was about time to get the crybaby away from the table. He was in enough trouble as it stood.

God, he was so whipped...

As Spike stood up, Buffy felt a temporary pang of sadness at the demon who was crying on her shoulder. Something bad had happened to him, and now he was going to be pummelled by an angry vampire because he chose the wrong woman on whom to unload. She looked away as the bleached blonde put his hand on the demon’s shoulder, but her head snapped back around when no violence came.

Spike was crouched down, hand on the demon’s shoulder, and was speaking to him softly in his own language. His face was sympathetic and patient, and his body language seemed to speak that he was used to this kind of thing. When the horned demon sniffled and nodded, the vampire stood up and stepped aside, letting ol’ Whiney walk away. They waved their good-byes like old friends.

The Slayer was itching to find out what that was all about but, remaining in character, kept her eyes focused on the tablecloth and her mouth clamped shut.

Spike sensed his pet’s curiosity--she was concentrating way too hard on the tablecloth and she was fidgeting, whether or not she was aware of it.

Slipping back into his human guise, he addressed the Slayer. “Look up at me, luv. We can talk while we’re here--no one’s going to question if I decide to have a conversation with my pet over a drink.” He tipped his glass and took a deep drink of what looked like molasses with froth. It had been a while since he’d had some real beer.

Happy to be released from her imposed silence, the young woman threw a barrage of questions at her companion. “Ok, what was that thing, what was it crying about, and why didn’t you kill it? Oh yeah, and where did you learn to speak all these demon languages--you speak Fyarl too, right?”

“Lots about me you don’t know, pet. When you’re immersed in the demon community for over 120 years, you have to be open to learning different languages to be able to communicate with different species. It’s not like English is the universal language of demons--nice as that’d be.” He paused, taking another sip of his Guinness. “God I missed this stuff... Anyway that was a Raumnek demon. They’re the pathetic whiners of the demon world--always cryin’ over lost loves, lost treasure, rainy weather... Anything worth complaining over. He was sobbing that his business partner disappeared with his mate and all the money. Oh yeah--they’re also incredible suckers.” Leaning back, his blue eyes seemed to be lost in a daydream. “I remember once, I got into a business deal with a Raumnek, and I...” The vampire stopped right there, noticing the look on the Slayer’s face. “Uh, that’s not important anymore. Never mind that, pet. You asked me why I didn’t kill him? First of all, he might be whiney and seem kittenish but he probably could have beaten me to dust with my left leg--they’re real strong when they’re pissed off. Second, well... it wouldn’t have been real sporty to take a shot at a heartbroken demon who wasn’t really hurting anyone, now would it? Demons do have a code of honour, you know.”

As he finished the last of his draught, Spike caught the Slayer observing him, a slight crook at the corner of her mouth. She was dragging the tip of her finger along the rim of her now-empty glass, staring at him oddly. For the hundredth time since setting foot on British soil, the master vampire wondered what the fates had in store for him. From the embarrassment of being William, to Dru’s enticing offer of a better life, to the Slayer and the Nex. He was sure his life could be weirder, but it would probably involve two-headed goats and country music. Nope, his life was just weird enough for his taste.

Buffy didn’t believe what he’d said about the ‘demon code of honour’. For some strange reason, she thought that Spike could identify with what the Redneck demon went through, what with Angelus and Dru going at it when he was paralysed. He’d strongly deny it, but the blonde vampire had a soft spot--maybe there was some good in there trying to get out.

Spike was first to break the silence. “Well, pet, won’t get anything accomplished lounging around, will we?” He got up and motioned for her to do the same. As he did this, all emotion left his features. His jaw was set tightly and his eyes were cold. He brought his game face forward again, scanning the club. There! Should’ve known they’d be playin.’ He took hold of Buffy’s wrist and led her towards one of the staircases.

***

Buffy was led to the gaming area of the club. They stopped near a table where a Fyarl seemed to be losing to a purple demon with dreadlocks. There was a crowd around the table, but the Slayer spotted another human girl standing against the wall, behind the rasta demon. She seemed to be about the same age as Buffy, but she looked much worse for wear. Her dark hair was dirty and hung limply around her gaunt face, her clothing was tattered and her posture screamed servility. If that’s what it was like to be a slave, Buffy didn’t think she was pulling it off too well.

Both demons put their cards down and the purple one got up and cheered. Livid, the Fyarl threw his cards at the table and pushed his chair back. He stood, reached into his pocket, and tossed a pouch onto the table. Not waiting for the purple demon to count his winnings, he stormed off.

Spike knew that this was his chance at gaining some information. He had to play the demon right, both with the cards, and with smooth words. When the Pelorak threw his challenge for another competitor, the master vampire stepped up.

“Evenin’ gentlemen.” He pulled a chair back and sat across from the still gloating Pelorak. Wearing a shit-eating grin, he slouched in his chair. “Never could pass up a chance at kicking Pelorak ass at cards.”

That got the purple demon’s attention. He grumbled something unintelligible and pulled his chair back to the table. Taking the cards in hand, he began to shuffle the cards. Sneering, he replied in halting English. “You seem very sure of yourself vampire. I doubt you’ve ever beaten a Pelorak at any game before--nobody beats us at anything.” He narrowed his eyes at the bleached nuisance who was sitting across from him. Imagine that--the nerve of a vampire of all demons, claiming that he could beat him at cards. He’d show that undead poser. Maybe win his slave, too.

Spike chuckled. “Well, you can ask Ka’har, son of Gla’rok, son of bloody whoever else, who he lost his prized DeSoto to, after losing a dozen Siamese kittens and a few thousand quid. Betcha the overweight ponce will have something to say about bleached vampires.” He straightened up in his chair and pulled it up the small wooden table. Lighting a cigarette, he looked across at the Pelorak. “Now if the posturing’s over, how ‘bout we play ourselves an actual game of cards, eh mate?”

Buffy remained still behind Spike, eyes cast low. She nearly died of embarrassment when her stomach decided to growl, letting everyone within demon earshot know she was hungry. Even though she was looking down, she felt all eyes on her small frame--this caused her cheeks to flush a bright red. She wanted to crawl under a table and disappear.

That seemed to be happening rather often tonight.

When the hand was over, Spike spoke up. “Look, why don’t we send our pets to sit at another table? It’ll be easier to concentrate on the game without all these bleedin’ bodily noises going on.” He turned to the Slayer and got an evil gleam in his eye. “Anyway, we don’t really need the distraction, if you know what I mean.” Buffy yelped as she felt him pinch one of butt cheeks. Biting her lip, she forced her arms to remain at her sides. Wouldn’t do either of them much good to give in to her temptation to give him yet another bloody nose.

The Pelorak laughed out loud at the vampire’s lewdness. “Fine, they can sit at that table.” He pointed to a small table for two that rested against the wall, about 15 feet away from their own table.

As both slaves made their way to the table, relieved to be out of the presence of their masters, Spike waved a barmaid over. “Hello, pet. Why don’t you be a love and bring me another pint of Guinness, and another of whatever my friend here’s been drinking.” The woman nodded and turned to walk away when the vampire took a hold of her elbow. “Just a sec. Not done yet. Do you have those big plates of nachos, the ones with everything on them?” When she replied in the affirmative, the blonde vamp smiled. “Good--our pets are sitting over there” he pointed at the girls’ table “bring them one of those big platters.”

When the barmaid left with her order, Spike turned to find the Pelorak staring at him. Shrugging, he answered simply. “Don’t believe in starving my girl. She looks better with a bit of meat on her bones.”

***

Finally out of the watchful eye of the few dozen demons surrounding the gaming table, Buffy was happy to be able to be herself. Sighing, she stretched her limbs and cracked her knuckles. Yeah, it was a gross habit, but... whatever--she didn’t care who she grossed out. She turned to the girl who was sitting across from her and took a good look at her. She was older than Buffy had initially believed--she just looked younger because of her demeanour: she was withdrawn, trying to make herself look smaller to avoid attention.

Deciding to try her hand at breaking the ice, the Slayer spoke up. “So, if we’re going to be sitting together tonight, we might as well know each other’s name. I’m Buffy.” She didn’t dare offer her hand--that would be tempting the fates a bit much. Just by talking, she was probably breaking a dozen slave rules.

The girl remained silent, but her eyes darted up to meet Buffy’s before moving back down to the tablecloth. The last thing she needed was to get into trouble, again. No, she valued her life too much for that. No good getting beaten just for another slave. She tried to give the blonde slave a hint. “We’re not supposed to speak unless spoken to by our masters.”

Buffy couldn’t believe it. How long had this poor girl been a slave? She leaned in closer to the other girl and smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t worry much about your master--he’s got his hands full keeping an eye on Spike to make sure he doesn’t cheat.”

Quickly, the other girl threw a glance over at her master. Sure enough, he wasn’t paying any heed to her, his full attention directed towards the game. She sighed. It would be so nice to finally have someone nice to talk to. Even if she got punished for it, this might be worth it. “My name’s Hilary.”

Glad that Hilary was opening up, Buffy continued the conversation. “So, how long have you been a...” God, she couldn’t even say it, because Hilary was the real thing. For her, it wasn’t just some act to pry some information for a mission.

“A slave? You can say it--we’re both in the same boat. Although your master seems a lot nicer than mine.” Hilary watched as Buffy turned her head to look at Spike. Funny. She didn’t look at him with reservation, or with fear. It almost seemed like...affection? Nah, that was ridiculous.

The young blonde found herself looking at her ‘master’ fondly. “Well, he can be a pain sometimes, but underneath it all he’s an ok guy.” And an amazing kisser. But she wasn’t going to tell Hilary that. She turned her attention back to the dark haired girl. “So how long have you been a slave?”

Hilary looked a bit embarrassed. “Actually, I’m not sure. It’s not like it’s been an easy task keeping track of time--my life was kind of turned upside down when they took me. I guess it might have been about a month. Maybe five weeks? I’m not too sure...”

Five weeks? It could be a coincidence, but then again... “Where did they take you from?” Maybe Spike wasn’t going to be the only one doing some detective work.

“I was hired as a nanny for a really nice couple, who had a newborn. She needed help with cleaning, and taking care of her other child. The baby had only been back from the hospital for a few days when he” she nodded towards the purple demon “and his friends broke into the house.” Hilary closed her eyes, trying to remain calm. She bit her lower lip, which was quivering, and put her hands palms-down on the table. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she felt like she was ready to continue. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of that night since it had happened--the memories were too raw, too horrific. Wiping away a few stray tears, she continued her story. “They killed everyone: the baby’s parents, her grandparents, even little Celia--she was only three years old.” Her body was racked by sobs. She sniffled and found her courage. “But they kept me and the baby. There was a man there--he wasn’t very old, maybe in his thirties. I... I was hoping that he would help us, that he would save us from the monsters, but all he wanted was the baby. He looked crazy--he kept laughing, saying he finally had his key.”

Buffy tried hard not to react too strongly to her story. She had found the key to their mission--given a little time, Hilary could really help them along on Blakeford’s trail. All they needed to do was to get her away from the Pelorak. Damn! She needed to speak to Spike, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t as if she could just walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder. Think, Buffy, think!

Hilary was trying to calm herself when the food arrived. She hadn’t eaten anything apart from scraps for over a month. She knew she looked horrible--she almost laughed out loud when she thought back to all the times she’d never been able to stick to a diet. Guess getting kidnapped by demons is a sure-fire way of losing weight. She watched Buffy dig in before helping herself to the cheese-slathered corn chips.

Oh, gooey goodness. And it isn’t that low-fat sour cream either... The Slayer began to make a dent in the nachos. “Come on, eat some more--you look like you need it more than me.” At the other girl’s hesitation, she felt a need to add: “And don’t worry--I’ll find a way to get you out of this mess.” She concentrated really hard on getting the bleached vampire’s attention--he certainly couldn’t ignore all those Slayer vibes heading his way.

***

Spike couldn’t believe it. He had won the majority of hands, and he hadn’t even resorted to cheating--yet. This couldn’t be a real Pelorak. Maybe someone in an ugly purple bodysuit? He had lied about winning against their kind before--he’d never been able to best one, not even while cheating. He shook his head and squinted as the back of his neck began to tingle. What the? He scratched the itch and tried to concentrate on his hand, but the tingling continued. For some reason he couldn’t comprehend, he was compelled to look over at Buffy.

The Slayer was trying her best not to look obvious, but she was doing a piss-poor job of it. When his eyes met hers, for a split second, she looked back down, but her hands were trying to sign something. Now what the bloody hell is the bint trying to do now? Get us both killed? He turned his attention back to the game and finished the hand, losing to a pair of aces and a pair of jacks. “Shit. Look, mate, can you hold on for just a sec? I’ll be right back.” He got up and walked to Buffy, pulling her rather roughly from her chair.

“Ok, what kind of game are you playin’, Slayer? If you got any more obvious, you’d have been jumping up and down flappin’ your arms.” He held her up against a wall, hands on her upper arms.

“Sorry, Spike. I didn’t know any other way of getting your attention. The other slave--she’s the baby’s nanny. You know the baby--the key, the prophecy?” The last words were uttered so quietly that even Spike’s vampiric hearing hardly picked them up. “We have to get her out of here. I’m sure she can tell us where Blakeford and the baby are. And ease off on the arms, that actually hurts.”

Spike pulled away, wheels turning in his brain. He knew exactly how to get both slaves out, but Buffy was sure to stake him for it. “Buffy...”

He hardly ever called her that. The young blonde winced at what he was going to say.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

Buffy couldn’t help but look up into his blue eyes. Eyes that were looking at her with undisguised affection. The eyes of the man who had changed so much since they’d been in London--no longer the sarcastic irritation she knew in Sunnydale, this vampire was gentle, caring, sexy, ok--still irritating, but that would never change and she knew it.

“Yes, I trust you.”

They both knew that her answer meant much, much more than it was supposed to. It reflected the change in their relationship, in how they viewed each other. It also meant that they had better chances of succeeding on this mission.

“Good. You’re not going to like what I’m going to do, but I want you to trust me on this. It’s a gamble that I’m going to win, no matter what. When I stand up from that table, I want you and the other chit to follow me and not look back. You understand?” Please, please don’t fight me on this.

She already didn’t like what was about to happen. Spike was almost grovelling--this didn’t bode well in the least for her, but she said she trusted him and, well, she did. “Ok, Spike. But you better know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t worry, pet. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

With a swagger, he returned to the table. Looking the Pelorak in the eye, he smirked. “How ‘bout we raise the stakes a little?”

“Is this some sort of ruse?” The Pelorak stared intensely at the blonde vampire, trying to read his expression. Surely he must have been joking.

Spike’s face was set like stone, clearly indicating to the other demon that he was indeed serious. “Sorry to disappoint you, mate, but it’s not a joke. One last hand. You win, you get back everything I’ve won and you get my pet. I win, well, you haven’t won much of mine” might as well bait the bear, make him see red “but I get your girl. Simple deal, don’t you think?”

“Well, yes. It’s fairly straightforward. I must admit that I’m curious, though.” He sat straight on his chair, pulling it closer to the table. Leaning his elbows on the hard wooden surface, he leaned in. “You seem oddly... attached... to your slave. I’d almost be led to think that she wasn’t really your ‘pet’, as you call her. She doesn‘t seem to be very submissive.”

Spike was incredulous. Of course, she wasn‘t a true slave, and he‘d wondered whether or not they‘d both acted their parts convincingly. Guess this is your answer. Now all he had to do was make sure that Buffy‘s drama queen would show her face. In a loud enough voice that he was sure the Slayer could overhear, and which could double as ire, he argued. “Are you insinuatin‘ that I haven‘t done a proper job at breaking her? You want me to prove that she’s my slave, or something?” That’s it, mate. Throw the ball back in his court. Maybe if you sound insulted he’ll back down. However, he had no such luck.

The purple demon’s face contorted in what looked like a grin.

“Yes, actually that would please me. If I’m to play for her, I want to make sure she’s submissive. I just broke in a new slave, I don’t want to have to expend the energy so soon again.” He stared at the blonde vampire, gauging his reaction.

The master vampire rolled his eyes and turned to Buffy. Sure enough, her attention was piqued, and she seemed poised to act. If he had the physical ability to, he would have been sweating and his heart would have been beating quickly. They needed to pull this off, but would the Slayer just come over and let him prove her submissiveness? He called out to her, and when she looked up he told her to join them at the table.

Buffy had to get Hilary out, even if it meant debasing herself in front of Spike and his demon entourage. She was comfortable enough in her new relationship with him to know that he probably felt bad about this (although she was sure a small part of him was snickering a Simpsons’ ‘ha! ha!’). Keeping her eyes cast to the ground, she walked over to the blonde vampire and spoke up, in a monotonous voice. “Yes, master?”

“Well, pet. Seems that your quality as a slave has been questioned. It‘s been implied, as silly as this sounds, that you‘re not a submissive bird. Is there any truth in that?” Please, Slayer, play along with this... The hardened features of his face belied the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. This whole charade depended on Buffy’s ability to wing it as a slave. Something she obviously hadn’t done very convincingly up to date.

“No, master.” Buffy allowed the Slayer to take over--its instinct for self-preservation would lead it to do a much better job than Buffy the bad liar ever could.

Spike leaned back in his chair, wheels turning in his head. He had to ask the right questions, ones which wouldn’t seem like he was leading Buffy to the right answers.

“So, pet, tell me--as my slave, what are your top priorities?”

Huh? Shit, think fast! “Why, to serve you, master.”

The vampire groaned inwardly. This wasn’t going where he wanted it to go. “And how do you serve me, slave?” He took his beer in hand and brought it up to his lips. He hoped to hell he could keep his hand from shaking.

Something evil deep inside of Buffy poured the words out of her mouth before she could stop them. “By providing you with oral pleasure.” It was a good thing she was staring at the floor--she was sure that she would have laughed out loud if she’d seen the look on his face. It was hard enough just hearing his reaction.

What little beer Spike had in his mouth sprayed all over the table. He tried to gather his wits, as well as his self-control as he wiped the spit off the cards. Now not only did he have to act as the Slayer’s master, he had the image of her performing lewd acts on him burned in his mind. Bloody, buggering fuck. With an air of authority that came from God knew where, he nodded. “That’s right, and what else?”

“I provide you your drinks... and your food.” She wondered if Spike would catch on to the meaning she was trying to relay. What better way to convince them of the slave-master relationship by having him drink from her, right in front of the other demons? She’d really have to kick his ass to kingdom come for putting her in this position...

Of course he knew what she meant. He couldn’t believe, however, that she was implying that they... Right there in the middle of the Nex, of all places. What if either of them showed one eighth of the pleasure they had felt the only other time she’d allowed him to taste her? To pierce her sweet flesh and to pull, into him, her life force? Great, he was getting hard just thinking about it. “Yes, you do--provide me with nourishment. Come to think of it, I’m feeling a mite peckish right now. A spot of O-Neg might do me a bit of good.” He smiled at the Pelorak and winked. “Maybe even give me a spot of good luck.”

Spike pulled his chair back, and sat up straight. Buffy knew that this was her cue. She walked over to him and for a split second wondered how they were going to do this. She couldn’t really just lean in, as that would be A) very uncomfortable, and B) very impersonal, as if they’d never done this before. They had to act as if this was something that was done on a daily, if not more often, basis. That left one possibility.

When the Slayer sat down on his thighs and straddled him, Spike thought he’d gone to heaven. She leaned in, always keeping her eyes downcast, and bared her neck to him in the most submissive way he’d ever been offered. She had the act down so well, that for a short moment he almost forgot that this was for show. Circling his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer, until their bodies were pressed one against the other. His demon could feel the rapid beat of her heart, the blood pumping furiously through her veins and arteries. It could smell the fear and the arousal coming off the young woman in waves.

As he placed a hand around her neck, pulling it in closer to his mouth, Spike whispered so softly that he knew only Buffy could hear him. “So sorry, luv...” With that, he sank his teeth into her neck and took small sips. God knew he wanted to drink her all, the life force of a Slayer, of this young woman that he’d come to have intense feelings for. But he didn’t want to kill her, didn’t want to lose the companionship he’d come to appreciate. So he drank slowly and shallowly, giving the puncture marks a final lick to help close them off quicker. He pulled back, and removed his hands from her.

“You may go back to your seat, pet.” He wiped at his mouth, although he knew that not a spot of blood had been wasted. When she walked away, not looking back, he turned back to the Pelorak. “Any more doubts as to her submissiveness?”

The purple demon pulled his chair back to the table and took the cards in hand. As he began to shuffle, he spoke clearly. “None, vampire. Now let’s establish the rules for this final hand.”

***

Buffy sat back in her chair, gently dragging her fingers over the still-tender bite marks. When she saw the Pelorak begin to shuffle the cards, she knew that their act had been convincing. Turning towards Hilary, she dug into the remaining nachos. “Ok, you totally have to trust me on this, ok, Hilary?” At the brunette’s doubtful look, she elaborated. “Spike and your master are playing for us. Yup. Purple guy wins, I go home with you two. Spike wins, you come home with me. Thing is, Spike is going to win no matter what. When he stands up, we both move to his side. Don’t worry, you can stay by my side. I’ll make sure you’re ok. Do you follow me?” She tried to convey her best comforting-good-friend smile, and waited for Hilary’s response.

She didn’t have a choice, did she? Hilary had never been much of a gambler, but she only stood to win if the blonde vampire came out victorious. Yes, she trusted Buffy, which meant that in some strange way she trusted... Spike--that was his name, wasn’t it? She looked at Buffy and found her once again watching her ‘master’, all the while tracing the mark he’d left on her. Not what she’d expect from someone who’d just been used as a human sippy cup. There was obviously more than met the eye in their relationship.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Yes, I follow you, and I trust you, Buffy. When your... Spike... gets up, we go to him, and...” And she looked hopeful at this point, like one of those dogs at the Humane Society, when you looked at it longer than you looked at the others. “... and I’m free?”

Buffy gave her new friend a heartfelt smile. “Yeah, then you’re free. We’ll make sure you’re on your way home, all safe and sound.”

She’d hardly had the time to turn around to watch Spike play before seeing him get up off his chair, and shake the Pelorak’s hand. Buffy took Hilary by the hand and both women walked up to the table, eyes cast to the peanut-shell littered floor of the Nex.

Spike walked to the two girls and stood between them, an arm around each slender waist. Buffy automatically leaned into his easy embrace, but the other girl, the one who looked like she needed a meal or five, stood stiffly on the spot.

He wanted to high tail it, before the Pelorak lost his good nature. Its kind wasn’t used to losing and might not be so gentlemanly about having lost his new slave. “Well, it’s been a blast, but I’m gonna take my winnings and head off. You know, quit when the going’s still good an‘ all...” He nuzzled Buffy’s ear, and whispered. “Come on, Slayer--let’s get the hell out of here before he finds those cards I hid under the table...”

When the meaning of what the vampire had whispered in her ear--and she knew she’d never get enough of him whispering in her ear, as it made her feel all weak-kneed--Buffy’s head snapped up, and she had to fight the urge to look him in the face. Letting him pull her along at a faster clip than either she or Hilary would usually take, she began to muse over all the things she’d say... no, yell... at him when they were a fair distance from this godforsaken night club.

No one took any notice of the sexy bleached blonde with a good looking girl in each arm as they made their way towards the club’s exit. Singles met other singles, couples went swinging, heck--it wasn’t unusual for groups of partygoers to leave together. So when the vampire and the two girls walked out, the only one to take notice was Tony, the burly bouncer who’d given her the once over when they’d arrived.

“Well, Spike. I see that you haven’t lost your touch with the birds. Walk in with one, walk out with two...” He leaned in to drag a meaty finger down Hilary’s back, but Spike let out a not-so-subtle growl.

“Sorry, mate, but I don’t share. Thought I made that clear earlier.” He narrowed his eyes and hugged the two girls closer to his sides.

Tony took a step back, as if he was ready to fight for what he obviously wanted. But instead of snarling, his face broke into a huge grin. “S’always worth a try, though.” He held his hand out. “Been good to see you, Spike. It’s nice to know that the older ones are still around.”

Spike accepted the proffered hand and smiled back at the large demon. “Well, it’s been a blast once again, Tony. Hope to see you sooner than later. You be good to yourself.” He returned his hand to Buffy’s waist and turned around, the two girls having no choice but to turn with him.

***

When they were back on the street, Buffy turned to Spike and let all her anger out. She began to punch him in the chest, yelling at him. “You stupid undead jerk!! How could you cheat, with both of our lives on the line? You’re so full of yourself! You’re...”

Spike cut her rant off the only way he knew how--with a blazing, heart-stopping kiss. Sweeping the young blonde off her feet, his mouth landed on hers with ferocity, as if this embrace determined their fates. Almost as quickly as the kiss started, it ended. Buffy stood there, rooted in place, lips half open, eyes dulled over. Before she had time to snap out of it, the blonde vamp took his turn to speak.

“Now you listen here, Slayer. My luck ran out on the hand prior to that last one. I was dealt shit cards and would have lost. I cheated because it was the only way to make sure that you and she” he turned to point to Hilary “came home with me instead of with that Pelorak wanker. So shut your gob and just be happy that you don’t have to play slave anymore.” With a flourish, he turned away from the two girls, storming off in the direction of the car.

Hilary was truly confused. Ok, so they didn’t seem to have a normal slave-master relationship. It was possible that some demons didn’t treat their slaves poorly, that they actually treated them well. But when Buffy hit Spike--a big slave no-no--and when Spike kissed her like they did in the movies, all Gone With the Wind-like, their entire relationship became a big question mark.

And what had he meant by ‘you don’t have to play slave anymore’?

Buffy couldn’t believe it. When would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut when she was around Spike? She always seemed to assume the worst, and call him on it. “Spike! Wait!” She had to apologize, which just a few weeks ago would have been so wrong, but now seemed so necessary to keep what she and Spike had developed afloat. Turning to Hilary, she signalled for her to follow. “Come on! We have to catch up to him. He’s our ride home.” That, and so much more...

When he heard her call him, Spike wanted to keep walking. He wanted to keep being angry with her, with the way she lashed out at him, with so little faith in his actions and intentions. Couldn’t she see that he was smitten? That he would do anything to keep her from harm? Going against his better judgement, he slowed his pace to a near stop, letting Buffy and the other girl reach him.

When she reached him, Buffy didn’t know what to do. She placed her hand on his elbow and motioned for him to turn around. His face was patient, but weary. Weary of not being trusted, weary of always being second-guessed--that much she knew. She looked up at him until he returned her gaze. Staring into the blue depths of his eyes, she took his hand. “Spike, I’m sorry I lashed out at you. It was uncalled for, because you’re right. What you did in there, putting yourself in danger to get Hilary away from that Pelorak, it was... well, it was heroic. It might not have been smart, but it was brave. So...” she took a deep breath “I apologize for hitting you, for not trusting you.” She got up on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“S’ok, pet. We’ll just put it behind us.” He turned to the other girl, and offered her a genuine smile. “Hilary, is it? Why don’t we get you a nice bowl of homemade soup and a hot bath? I’m sure Buffy here wouldn’t mind sharing some of her girly bath stuff--you birds seem to like bubbles and flowers. We’ll worry about everything else after that.” He put his arms back around the two girls and led them to the car.

They had a long night ahead of them, with lots of bad memories to revisit, and plans to make.

And they had a young woman who needed to be returned to her family.

At first, she’d had a hard time believing that the vampire, Spike--have to remember his name, was telling the truth. As much as she wanted to believe that something good had actually happened to her, after all the crap she’d endured over the past five weeks, Hilary did not let herself look forward to a nice warm bowl of soup--homemade, at that!-- or a hot bath.

That was until she was standing in the entrance to the hotel suite.

The walls she’d built around herself, the ones which had allowed her to remain strong during her ordeal, all came crashing down when she realized that she was not going back to the Pelorak, that she was safe. Crumpling to the floor like a rag doll, she finally let the tears fall.

When Hilary sank to the floor, both Slayer and vampire assumed their respective roles. Buffy sat down on the floor next to the crying girl, cradling her in her arms and cooing soft words of comfort, and Spike made himself scarce, heading to the kitchen for a spot of blood, leaving the women to share a moment.

Buffy had never been good at consoling. Sure, she’d been the consolee often enough, but she was short on consoler practice. She did what came naturally, holding Hilary, letting her get the tears out of her system, and reassuring her with “you’re safe’s” and “it’s over now’s”. She could only imagine how this poor girl felt, after what she’d endured these past weeks. Buffy’d only played the role of slave, and only half-assed from the other demons’ reactions, and she’d hated every minute of it. Every moment of submissiveness, every moment where she wasn’t everyone else’s equal, she’d felt less than human. Poor Hilary, you think you’re being weak, but you’re so much stronger than some of us...

Hilary didn’t know how much time she’d spent on the floor, crouched on her knees sobbing into Buffy’s shoulder. What she did know was that her legs, below her knees, were numb, her chest ached from the coughing and at one point during her release of emotions even Spike had popped out of the kitchenette to hand her some tissues.

Sniffling, the young brunette cast a red-rimmed gaze to her two saviours. “Sniff. I’m so sorry about this.” She waved at her own form on the floor. “I’m sure you weren’t expecting to have to provide psychological assistance, on top of the soup and bubble bath.” The corners of her mouth turned up into a wry grin, not altogether devoid of humour.

Buffy raised herself to a stand and held her hand out to the other girl. “You know what, Hilary? You deserved it. Every tear, every sob, every soggy Kleenex. After what you went through...” She trailed off, letting the thought finish itself in each of their minds. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and I’m proud of you. You held in there for so long, and now here you are with us, away from all that.”

For the first time since they’d walked through the door, Spike spoke up. “Well, that’s enough mention of all that. According to demon laws, you’re mine now, and I’ve never put an ounce of thought into all that nonsense. You’re free to go, to your home or wherever you want. I’m sure you’ve got a mum and dad who are worried sick about you.” He stuck his hands deep in his jean pockets, obviously ill at ease with this display of affection. Turning on his heels, he faced the kitchen. “So, what would you prefer first? The soup or the bath?”

To a girl starved not only of proper nourishment, but also of life’s little indulgences, the answer was obvious. “I think I’d like to start off with the bath, with all that ’girly’ bubble bath you mentioned earlier.” Hilary allowed a smile to appear, hardly able to restrain herself. If she was really lucky, they’d have a claw foot tub...

“Spoken like a true woman...” Buffy grinned as Spike rolled his eyes. “Now let’s get you some comfy clothes so we can burn these slave-rags you’re wearing.” She took Hilary by the arm and pulled her towards her side of the bedroom.

Spike watched them walk to the bedroom area, nattering on about lavender and vanilla and other girly things. He could live another 120 years and never figure out why women were so obsessed with scents. Sure, he knew why he liked them--just the thought of smelling Buffy’s hair after she washed it with that green apple shampoo, or when she used that vanilla body soap... Not the right path to take right now, mate. Gotta take care of the other girl. Which led him to another train of thought, the one where he wondered ’since when do I take care of young birds instead of draining them dry?’ Shrugging at the direction in which his ever-evolving life was going, he grabbed his smokes and headed for a window. Now he was even careful of where he smoked.

He was so whipped...

***

Surrounded by lavender-scented bubbles, Hilary leaned against the warm porcelain back of the tub. She couldn’t believe that she’d forgotten the recuperative properties of a proper bubble bath. Thank you, Crabtree & Evelyn...

The young brunette let her thoughts wander to those she’d been forced to leave behind: her mother and father, two brothers, and her cats Tybalt and Iago. She also missed her best friend Melanie--they had one hell of a shopping trip ahead of them, to make up for all that lost mall time.

Sighing, she allowed herself to sink even deeper into the water. Gazing across the horizon of bubbles, her thoughts turned to the two people who had saved her. Buffy and Spike were out there, in the apartment, and they would expect answers from her. Hilary wasn’t stupid--she knew that their encounter hadn’t been purely coincidental. Buffy’s reaction to the story of her abduction had spoken volumes, especially when she risked blowing her cover by trying to attract Spike’s attention.

The rumbling of her stomach interrupted her train of thought and diverted it to the soup that she’d been promised. How strange was her life that it now involved vampires trying to soothe her with homemade soup? Just two months ago, vampires were no more than a Bram Stoker quick read, or something from those old black and white movies her brothers watched after midnight. Now, she was soaking in a claw foot tub, saved by said vampire from the clutches of some purple demon that she’d never even heard of.

And then there was Buffy. She assumed that they were of the same age, but she’d seemed so calm, so accustomed to being in the presence of demons that Hilary began to doubt whether or not the young-seeming blonde was really human after all. Maybe she was some sort of demon as well? In his human guise, one could hardly tell that Spike was anything other than some bloke stuck in the ‘80s--was Buffy a vampire as well? No, her skin was warm--Hilary should know, after having had a really good cry in the crook of the blonde’s shoulder. Then perhaps she was... Argh. The brunette was giving herself a headache just thinking about it.

Also--were Buffy and Spike together, as in together together? They sure seemed comfortable in each other’s company. And that kiss, the one he gave Buffy to shut her up--Hilary could only wish that someone would kiss her like that one day.

She closed her mind off to all thoughts, trying for a little inner peace, when she noticed that the apartment seemed very quiet.

***

After having helped Hilary prepare for her bath, Buffy joined Spike in the kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge, she turned her nose at the packs of blood and pushed them aside to pull out the pot of soup. Sure, she’d gone out herself to buy them for the annoying bleached one, but that didn’t mean she had to tolerate their presence in the fridge. She put the pot on one of the stove burners and set it to warm. When the scent of the simmering soup hit her nose, her stomach growled.

Spike remained seated at the counter, on one of the barstools. It relaxed him to watch the Slayer puttering around like a hausfrau. Forgetting himself, he took out his pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. He got the lighter out before noticing the glare of death that was pointed in his direction. Sighing, he put the smokes away and grumbled something about being a whipped ponce.

Buffy took a seat beside the vampire and let her head drop to the counter, groaning. Spike pat her on the back and offered her a smile. “Why don’t you get yourself changed, luv? As fetching as that outfit is,” he wagged his eyebrows at her for effect, “it mustn’t be very comfortable.”

The young woman hoisted her head up as if it weighed a ton and looked at the vampire sitting beside her. “You know, Spike, that’s the best piece of advice I’ve heard in ages. I’ll be back in a sec, just keep an eye on the soup--make sure it doesn’t boil over or stick to the bottom.”

“Ok, pet.” He watched her walk over to the bedroom, where she rooted around for her pyjamas before pulling the bed’s curtains closed. “Sure you don’t need a hand with that?”

Hey, a vamp could always be hopeful.

A feminine voice, muffled by the thick fabric of the curtains, called back. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure I can handle this on my own.” Struggling with the tight pants she wiggled around on the bed. “At least I think I can do this on my own...” She flushed at the thought of his cool hands helping her undress... Stop that! It’s not the time for dirty daydreams!

When she had put her flannel pjs on and put her hair back in a loose ponytail, Buffy pulled the curtain aside and padded over towards the kitchenette. Spike was perched over the counter, trying to stir the soup at a full arm’s reach. Typical guy, she thought, trying his damnedest not to get up off his ass to do a chore. From his body language, she could tell that he hadn’t yet registered her presence. Standing with the tips of his toes on the stool’s bottom rung, the vampire was fully stretched over the stove--it was obvious that his concentration was directed at not falling into a boiling pot of soup. His T-shirt had ridden partway up his back, exposing a few inches of pale skin--the Slayer‘s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the smooth expanse of skin that was laid bare.

Without thinking, she leaned over the vampire’s still form, trying to be as quiet as possible, and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the exposed skin. Buffy was unsure where this urge had come from, but she hadn’t fought it at all. Perhaps it had been the sight of his muscled back, clamouring for her touch. Then again, maybe she just had a death wish.

Either way, it hadn’t been a very wise idea. Taken by surprise, Spike jerked back, and the spoon he was holding went flying. His feet got tangled in the rungs of his seat and he fell back, taking the Slayer down with him. He kicked the stool away, and turned around to face a giggling Buffy. The scowl on his face softened to a look of surprise as he clued into what had happened. She’d kissed him. The Slayer had initiated an intimate caress with a part of his body. Bloody hell...

For a quick moment, Buffy was sure that she was dead. The look on Spike’s face when he landed on her spelled death, in no uncertain terms. But then the look had changed to something else, something that she couldn’t quite place. When he turned around and made to get up, she felt a pang of loss at the lack of contact.

With a move that demonstrated his predatory nature, Spike pounced on Buffy and pinned her to the floor, his pelvis grinding against hers and his hands gripping her forearms. His eyes glinted of amber and a low growl emanated from the back of his throat. The Slayer remained there, pinned against the floor, all traces of a smile wiped off her face. For the first time since they’d been in England, she didn‘t altogether trust her companion. He sat back and roughly pulled her up until they were nose to nose, both panting not of exertion, but of excitement.

At once, their mouths met in a passionate kiss. Buffy felt Spike’s erection pressing against her centre, and he in turn felt the heat of her arousal through both layers of clothing. This knowledge, that their desire for one another was equal, served to fuel their embrace. As their tongues duelled and their lips danced, the two shimmied closer to each other, trying to eliminate any space that might have existed between their bodies.

The vampire pulled the tie out Buffy’s hair, dragging his fingers through its softness. For a moment, he imagined that he was Jason and this was his Golden Fleece. Frowning, he pushed the thought out of his mind. Leave it to William to make dopey comparisons while he had a hot Slayer pressed against him shoving her tongue in his mouth. Wanker. He breathed in her arousal, felt the beating of her heart against his own still chest, and wished that this could last forever.

Buffy wondered if Spike would ever know how much his breathing turned her on--especially the panting in between open-mouthed, wet kisses, where she felt his cool breath on her heated skin. Sliding her hands underneath his T-shirt, her aim was to coax as many of those pants out of him as she could. She raked her fingernails up his toned chest, tracing the outline of his pecs and his abs, pausing only to tease his nipples until they were hard. Ah, there it is, she thought as he let out an undisguised moan of pleasure, gotta store that away for later.

The sound of bath water going down the drain parted the fog of lust from both of their brains. Pulling apart, they rested their foreheads together, Buffy‘s cheeks red and both their lips swollen from the kisses. Spike got up first, holding a hand out to the Slayer to help her up. Both their minds were racing a mile a minute, thoughts varying from how far they would have gone had they been alone, to Hilary and how she was about to walk out of the bathroom.

They stood there, holding hands, until Buffy reached up and kissed Spike on the cheek. She had to let him know that this new something, that was developing between them, was ok with her. Well duh! I’ve only practically had clothed sex with him... She smiled at him and said: “Guess we should get dinner served, huh?”

Relieved that she wasn’t walking away screaming, or that she hadn’t tried to break his nose--again, Spike smiled back. “Sure, pet. Let’s do that.”

Buffy stirred the soup before turning the heat off, glad that it hadn’t burned. Spike took out bowls and spoons, setting them at the counter. Breaking the short bout of silence, the Slayer wondered aloud. “So, how much info do you think she’ll have for us?”

The bleached vamp hunched his shoulders, and picked his barstool up off the floor. “Dunno. You’ve got a better idea of that, pet, since you were the one who was sitting with her at the Nex.”

Buffy eyed the counter that the vampire had set for their meal and shook her head. Reaching into the cupboard, she pulled out two glasses and placed them to each side of where Spike was sitting. “Well, I know who she is, but it’s not like we had much of a chance to chat, what with the slavage. I’m just wondering how much she can help us. I mean, if Blakeford went one way and the Pelorak went another...”

Ever channelling frenetic energy, Spike hit his spoon against his bowl at the same rhythm as he tapped his foot. “Well, we’ll worry about that after she comes out of the loo.” He frowned, and craned his neck in the direction of the bathroom’s door. “That’s if she ever gets out of there. I don’t know what it is about you women and your baths...”

Pulling up a stool beside Spike’s, Buffy poured herself a glass of water, placing the pitcher of water in front of what was to be Hilary‘s seat. “Probably going to remain one of life’s mysteries, Spike. Just like you men and your cars. Especially big, old, ugly black ones.”

The vampire was incredulous. Was she implying... “Are you insultin’ my baby? She’s been with me for over 35 years, Slayer. Only faithful girl I’ve had...”

An uncomfortable silence followed his admission. Spike was lost in thoughts involving Drusilla, and Buffy didn’t quite know what to reply, not without making things worse. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it, just as the bathroom door opened.

***

Hilary walked into the kitchen just as Buffy hopped off one of the barstools, exchanging awkward glances with Spike. Yeah, they’re together... The young blonde smiled at her and asked her if she’d enjoyed her bath.

Propping herself onto a barstool beside Spike, the brunette sighed in contentment. “You know, I can’t imagine that I’d forgotten the magic of Crabtree & Evelyn.” She took the bowl of soup that was offered to her and thanked Buffy. “This smells wonderful. Is it really homemade?”

Having served Spike and herself, the Slayer took her seat. “Yup. 100% homemade. Cut the veggies by hand, made the broth... The whole shebang.” She took a sip, and chuckled. “Surprising that it’s edible, isn’t it?”

They talked about cooking, about world events, about music--pretty much anything and everything that good friends sharing a meal would discuss. Hilary and Buffy couldn’t help but laugh at some of the stories that Spike recalled from long, long ago (edited to cut out some of the gorier details, of course). Especially the ones about Angelus, whom he never tired of mocking.

When dinner was over and the dishes were piled in the sink, Buffy had to pry Hilary away from them. “No--leave that cloth there! I’ll do the dishes tomorrow. We’ve got more important things to discuss right now...” She pulled the other woman out to the living room and had her sit down in the wingback chair, while she and Spike took the couch. She didn’t know just how comfortable Hilary would feel sitting on a couch beside a vampire. That’s it--it has nothing to do with me wanting to be close to him.

Their guest sat straight, knees drawn tight together and hands on her lap. Her face was set seriously, not unlike Willow’s resolve face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her countenance was more relaxed, almost at ease, even. “Ok, I know you both have questions to ask me, and that this, this rescuing, isn’t purely coincidental.” She watched the two blondes share an uncomfortable look. “And that’s ok--I accept that. The outcome more than benefits me, so I’m good with it. But before I tell you my story, I want to know yours.” Seeing the confused look on their faces, she elaborated. “Buffy--who, or what are you? Why did you seem so comfortable in the midst of demons, and why on earth do you work with a vampire? And speaking of vampires,” she continued, reserving her gaze for Spike, “why are you working with white hats, when you should be out there bathing in the blood of the innocents?”

Both Slayer and master vampire looked at each other. Gesturing for Buffy to proceed, Spike leaned back into the couch, eager to hear how much she would tell, and how she would tell it. The Slayer wasn’t usually the one to hold podium during these pow-wows--it was usually left up to either Red or the watcher.

“Ok, Hilary. You’ve been through a lot of crap and you deserve the truth, there‘s no denying that. However, you’re only partially right about your rescue. Spike and I were at the Nex to get some answers about the baby, but we didn’t know you or the Pelorak would be there. That was a coincidence--a very favourable one.” She fidgeted in her seat and leaned against the arm, trying to look comfortable. “Spike and I are on... a mission, I guess you’d call it. We’ve been sent to find the baby before anything bad happens to her. This Blakeford guy--he’s mega bad news. He wants to use the baby to open portals from other worlds into our own.”

When Hilary raised a brow, but didn’t say anything, the Slayer continued. “This baby, it has powers. You’ve got to trust me on this, Hilary--you’ve seen a lot of weird shit these past weeks, so I know you can believe me. If Blakeford kills the baby, all the portals open, and earth as you know it goes *poof!*” She gave Spike a dirty look when he began to hum “End of the World” by REM. Properly chastised, the vampire quit humming and pouted. This temporarily distracted Buffy, who was in a mind to reach over and take that lower lip into her mouth and...

The brunette leaned back into her chair and tapped her fingers on its arms. Stupid REM--that song’ll be in my head for ages. “Ok, I buy it. Baby dies, portals open and world goes bye-bye. My mind can grasp that. What I still want to know is what you and Spike are--well, I know what he is--and what you’re doing together.”

Oh great--she’s got Willow’s resolve face. I can’t fight that--maybe Spike can. Buffy looked over to the vampire on her left, and saw that he also seemed to be crumbling under the brunette’s gaze. Once again, it seemed to be up to her to do the talking. Since when did the chatty vampire keep to himself?

“I’m human, if that’s what you’ve been wondering. I just happen to have been... mojo’d, as Spike would put it, by the Powers That Be, whoever they are. I am the Vampire Slayer--’in every generation, there is a chosen one blah blah blah’. I’ve been given greater powers to help fight vampires and demons. I’m faster, stronger, more agile than a regular human. My senses are sharper--although not nearly as sharp as blondie’s, here.” She nodded in Spike’s direction. If he was just going to sit there like a lump and not say a word, she might as well get her jabs in. “My job is to pretty much help avert apocalypses, like the one we’re trying to avoid right now. Between apocalypses, I kill demons.”

She pursed her lips, trying to see if there was anything she’d missed, if Hilary would request any additional information. When none came to mind, she shrugged. “Well, that’s me. As for Spike, here, I can’t speak for him. I don’t know why he hasn’t killed me, I don’t know why he’s got such good control over his demon. If he wants you to know, he’ll have to tell you himself.”

Now it was her turn to sit back and watch the proceedings. Spike hadn’t moved, but she could see the wheels turning in his head: ‘do I speak, or do I keep mum?’

“Don’t rightly know why I act as I do.” The vampire seemed to be addressing himself as much as he was the two girls. “I’ve never been like the others--Angelus, or Darla, or even Dru.” At Hilary’s questioning stare, he explained who these others were. “Drusilla was my sire, and my love for over a century. She made me what I am. Much as I loved her, though, she was mad as a hatter--she had some sixth sense, some second sight or whatever you want to call it. She’d have these visions, and say that the stars, or Miss Edith--one of her dolls--was talkin’ to her. Angelus was her sire, but he’s the one who pretty much taught me how to be a vampire. And Darla was Angelus’ sire. Well... where the hell was I goin’ with this?” He frowned, and bit his lower lip.

“Oh, yeah--I wasn’t like them, like the others. I still took part in human indulgences, like booze and food--especially spicy food, that’s the best, you know--and I still read books and anything I could get my hands on. I figure I must’ve got some of Dru’s barminess. Don’t know how else to explain it. This difference never stopped me from being one of the most feared vampires in Europe, though--quickly lost count of how many people I killed. Women, children, old people... Didn’t matter to my demon, didn’t even matter to... well, whatever was left of the original me, if anything.

“I know I’m off topic, but I’m trying to organize my thoughts as I’m talkin’ here. Not like I sit around thinkin’ about this every day. Thing I’m trying to say is that I never 100% acted like a normal vampire. Maybe my demon’s calming down, maybe whatever was left of William is getting stronger, I don’t know. Heck, maybe I’m turning into Dru--I’ll be talkin’ to the stars, next.” He chuckled quietly at the thought.

“Then I went to Sunnydale--I came there to kill the Slayer. Well, you can see how well that worked out. After that, no matter how many times I left, I couldn’t stay away from Sunnydale--that’s where Buffy lives, on the Hellmouth, where all the demons flock to--and I just can’t stay away from the Slayer or her stupid Scoobies. It’s like a mental illness or somethin’. I just can‘t help myself, and it makes my demon sick. And now here I am, trying to save the world--a second time, at that. Might as well just go out and get myself a soul and a year‘s worth of nancy boy hair gel.”

Both girls were quiet when he finished speaking. Buffy was surprised at the emotion behind his thoughts. She should have realized that this helping her, helping the Council, would go against his very nature. Of course he was confused. She wanted to lean over and give him a hug, to reassure him that everything was all right, but Hilary beat her to it.

Well, not with the hug.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Spike. I just think that when you were turned into a vampire, that a lot of whomever you were stayed with you. You must have been a good man, and now that you have the opportunity of showing that side of yourself, it’s natural for you to make the right choices. When you were surrounded by demons, your demon was in charge--that’s why you killed without remorse. But now that you’re with people--white hats, at that--that other side of you is taking more control.” She blushed at the silence with which she was met, and began to pluck at some imaginary lint on the chair‘s arms. “Well, that’s what I think, anyway.”

Buffy cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t know what you say, Spike, but I don’t think that Giles could have put it any better.” She smiled at Hilary. “Giles is my watcher--the one who trains me--and he’s like, super smart. You just sounded like him just now. Uh--that‘s a compliment, by the way.” She turned to look at Spike, who had remained quiet and still. Staring unblinkingly at the vampire, but still addressing the brunette, she reached out and put her hand over his. “I think there’s a lot of truth in what you said, whether or not Spike wants to admit it. There’s a good man inside of him, and I know that I’ve seen more of him on this trip than I ever could have imagined. And I like what I’ve seen.” Her thumb drew circles on the back of the vampire’s hand, and she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

Spike surprised her by turning his head and letting her kiss fall on his lips. It was a soft embrace that spoke volumes of the affection between the two blondes, and Hilary found herself more than a little envious at the feelings they had for each other. As the kiss deepened, Hilary became more and more interested in a piece of imaginary lint on the chair.

Spike brought his hand up to Buffy’s cheek, cupping it softly as their lips brushed together. Pulling back, and remembering that they weren’t alone in the room, he levelled a naked gaze with her hazel eyes. “Thanks, love.” One last lingering kiss, and he turned to Hilary. “And thank you, Hilary. As much as it makes me feel like a wanker, what you said makes a lot of sense to me. And before this whole scene becomes too emotional,” he got up off the couch and headed towards the door, “I’m going to go have a smoke. Clear my head.”

***

When Spike returned from outside, where he’d forced himself to clear his thoughts of everything but the nicotine hit his body was getting, he walked into the apartment to find both girls sitting on the couch watching TV and giggling. He grabbed the wingback chair in which Hilary had been sitting and set it beside the couch, curious as to what had the girls in a fit.

His jaw dropped when he stared at the television, and saw that the two girls were in stitches over Monty Python. Castle Anthrax, to be exact. He’d watched all the movies dozens of times, but had never found one woman who found their comedy remotely funny.

When Sir Lancelot had ‘saved’ Sir Galahad from the scores of young maidens, Buffy turned to Spike. She smiled at him, laughter in her eyes. He decided, at that moment, that he would work hard at making her this happy every day. The Slayer’s life was so serious, so full of responsibility, that she didn’t often get the chance to act like a normal young woman. It was refreshing to see her carefree and enjoying herself.

Hilary turned the TV off at the movie’s end credits. Leaning back against the couch’s arm, she looked at the two others. “I guess it’s my turn now, isn’t it?” As this was a rhetorical question, neither blonde saw a need to answer.

Spike turned his chair in order to have a better view of the brunette as she told her story. He propped his boots up onto the couch’s arm, next to Buffy, only to have them swatted down.

“Don’t put your boots on the furniture! What, do you live in a crypt or something? Oh, wait, you do...” Buffy gave him a dirty look, and didn’t relent until the vampire grumbled and removed his boots. She moved over a bit to accommodate his now bootless feet, and draped her arm across them in a way that spoke of a comfort shared by old friends.

Noticing this domestic familiarity between the two blondes, Hilary bit back a grin. Turning her attention to Spike, she began. “I don’t know how much Buffy has told you, but I’ll start at the beginning. Well, the beginning of what you need to hear. I was hired as a nanny for Daniel and Susan Rodger, who were expecting their second child in the upcoming week. I was to start the day that Susan came back from the hospital with the baby. That was on...” The brunette closed her eyes and began to count on her fingertips. “...April 28th, I believe. We’re June 10th, right?”

“Uh, I think so. Yeah, June 10th--that sounds right.” Buffy looked at the vampire for confirmation, but was met with a shrug.

“Don’t look at me, Slayer. I haven’t followed a calendar for over a century. Not about to start now.”

Accepting that it was June 10th, Hilary resumed her tale. “Ok then, April 28th it was. I moved into their house in South Kensington--nice big house, by the way. I had a spacious room with an ensuite bathroom. Anyway, my job was pretty much to look after their eldest child, Celia, who was three, and to care for the baby when Susan was too tired. She wasn’t breastfeeding, so that left me free to feed her on my own. We went through this routine for a few days. She was such a good baby...” She paused, and sniffled. “Sorry, but this is really hard for me.”

Buffy leaned over and placed her hand on the other girl’s leg, patting it reassuringly. “Hey, that’s ok. Just go at whatever speed you want.”

Hilary wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve and smiled weakly. “Thanks.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her frayed nerves. “Anyway, on the third or fourth day after the baby was home, there was a knock on the door. It was late at night--I remember wondering who it could be at such an odd hour. I was standing at the top of the stairs when Andrew--he was the butler--answered the door. Before I knew what was happening, Andrew was on the ground, bleeding. They’d... they’d hit him with an axe. He was still alive, because he looked up at me.” She whimpered. “He looked so surprised, and he had blood coming out of... out of his mouth, and his nose...” The young woman paused again, fully willing to take advantage of the two blondes’ patience towards her storytelling.

For the first time in his unlife, Spike felt a twinge of guilt for all the death he’d caused. Seeing this girl, how strong she was trying to be and how much the sight of this man’s death--a man whom she’d only known for a few days--affected her, he couldn’t help but think of all the secondary casualties of his rampages: witnesses, mothers and fathers who either grieved or waited for the return of their children, orphans... And all because of him. A part of him reeled at this new sensation, this guilt--he was a soulless being, animated by a demon. Why should he feel guilt over something that was so natural? Survival of the fittest, he’d always said.

But part of him felt a slight consolation at this remorse. It was as if he was finally regaining a little part of his humanity. Maybe he’d be good enough for Buffy after all... The sound of Hilary’s voice brought his attention back to her.

“I ran up the stairs, screaming, trying to warn the others to get out, to get the baby out. Dan and Susan walked out of their bedroom, still half asleep, and I tried--I tried so hard to get them to leave, but they wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly. “I mean, how quickly would you turn and run just because some hysterical girl whom you’d just met told you to? Needless to say, Dan demanded to know what was going on. Something compelled him to look down and he saw Andrew’s body--I think he was dead by then--and he looked at me. The colour had drained from his face and his mouth was open, like he was trying to say something but couldn’t quite settle on what to say. That’s when the Pelorak came in. Of course, at that point, I didn’t know what they were. Maybe thieves in weird Hallow’s Eve costumes, I really couldn’t tell.”

She stopped again, concentrating on the paisleys adorning the flannel pants Buffy had given her. When she resumed, she kept her gaze locked with her pants. She knew that if she looked up, at this point in her story, she wouldn’t be in a state to continue. “It’s like they knew the layout of the house. They didn’t bother searching the main floor of the house. They all headed up the stairs. One grabbed me and hoisted me over its shoulder,” she shuddered at the memory of her first contact with her abductors, “and locked me in my room. I... I didn’t see anything that happened after that. All I could hear was the screaming. I hid under my bed praying, hoping that they’d leave me alone, that they’d forget about me. The screaming seemed to last forever, but I’m sure it was over in less than five minutes. They had a plan and it was executed flawlessly.” She looked up to see tears streaming down Buffy’s face, and even Spike looked guilty. In a weak, raspy voice, she asked for a glass of water.

Buffy made a move to get up, but a hand on her shoulder kept her in her seat. “I’ll go, luv. You stay here.” Spike let his hand linger a little, brushing a strand of golden hair off her shoulder. He came back with two glasses, one for each girl. When he handed Buffy hers, he offered her a tight smile. “Looked like you needed one too.”

Surprised at the vampire’s insight and at his thoughtfulness, Buffy could only stammer a “Thanks.”

After Spike had settled back in his seat, and both Buffy and Hilary had had a few sips of water, the brunette resumed her tale. “I knew the baby was still alive because I could hear her crying. The door to my room opened and a man came in. He was holding her, so I rushed out from under the bed--I thought he’d come to save us. I mean, he was human... I ran to him and he took a step back, holding the crying baby like she had the plague. He leaned back out of the room and yelled ‘You missed one! What am I paying you for?!’ That’s when I knew that it was all over. The man left the room and one of the Pelorak--the one you played poker against--picked me up and told me to keep my mouth shut. ‘Do as I say and you’ll live’ was what he said. As I was carried out of the room, it was all I could do to stop from screaming. There was blood everywhere. I could see Dan and Susan’s bodies, and even little Celia--she was so young, it was so unfair...” Hilary took another sip of her water and waited until she was composed before continuing.

Although it was very difficult for her to relive these memories, she found it to be therapeutic. After all, Buffy and Spike believed her--they were part of this strange world which she’d been part of for these past weeks. How difficult would it be to visit a therapist and try to make him believe that she had been kidnapped by purple demons, kept as a slave, and released into freedom by a vampire who won her at poker? Yeah, like she wouldn’t be committed for that one...

“But I kept quiet. I guess that my self-preservation was stronger than my horror at what I was seeing. We followed the human out and hopped into a black van. Well, the Pelorak hopped in--I was tossed in. I pretended that I’d fainted--I just wanted them to leave me alone, which they did. They were talking among themselves--that’s when I figured out that the man and baby were not in the same vehicle as us. Instead of listening to their babbling about money and what they’d do with it, I concentrated on trying to make out sounds--try to figure out where they’d brought me. I heard boat horns, and lots of machinery. I can only guess that we were near some docks. We stopped shortly after and they blindfolded me before dragging me back out of the vehicle. The smell was horrible, like a mixture of dead fish and petrol.”

It was easier to tell her story now that she was past the worst of it--compared to the others’ deaths, her stint as a slave didn’t seem as traumatic. “They brought me into a warehouse of some sort and took my blindfold off. I guess they were tired of dragging me around. The man was already there, but the baby wasn’t with him. I could hear her crying--I wanted so badly to go to her, I knew I could comfort her. I don’t know where they had her, though--I haven’t seen her since we were taken from the house. I was told to sit on the floor--something about being ground meat if I moved. The Pelorak who’d taken me, and the man huddled but because of the building’s acoustics--I heard most of what they said. I think maybe it’s because I was leaning against the wall or something.” She scrunched her face, distracted by this little detail, then hunched her shoulders.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter now, I suppose. Nothing of what they said made sense to me at the time, so I can’t remember it very well, but the man said something about a witch and a ceremony. He didn’t mention a place--that much I know for sure--so I don’t know if it will be in that same building or not.” She looked at them, sheepishly. “Sorry about that. They did, however, mention that the baby had to be 2 months old before they do perform the ceremony. That would give you until June 20th, since the baby was born on the 25th of April.”

She trailed off and finished the last of her water. “And that’s all I know. I’m not going to tell you about what happened when I was with the Pelorak. It’s too personal...”

The young woman shuddered almost imperceptibly, and Buffy couldn’t help but wonder what she’d been through in those five weeks. While she was sure that Spike had a good idea, she wouldn’t ask him--it seemed like an invasion of Hilary’s privacy. Resigned to stay in the dark on this topic, the Slayer got up and stretched. It had been a long, long time since she’d stayed still for so long. “So, Hilary--where is it that you lived... live, anyway?”

The brunette smiled, happy thoughts pushing the horrible ones out. “Actually, not too far from here--my parents own a small house about 15 minutes from here.” She sighed and turned towards the window. She parted the curtain and peered out into the night. So close, yet it seems so far... It seemed like years since she’d seen her family.

Buffy shared a conspiratorial glance with Spike--it was as if he’d read her mind. He smirked and nodded, then got up off the chair.

“Well, what would you think about going back home? Tonight? Unless you’d rather wait--I’m not sure you’re really ready...” She wasn’t able to finish her teasing, as a screeching Hilary threw her arms around the Slayer’s neck.

Crying once again--tears of joys, however, this time, Hilary was overjoyed. “Home? Home! I’d love to go now, if it’s ok, if you don’t mind...”

Putting his boots on, Spike answered her. “Nonsense, pet. It’s not like we’re going to keep you here with us forever. Anyhow, I’m sure you’d prefer to be with your family than the likes of us.” He winced when Buffy’s hand flew out and smacked him hard on the chest.

“Speak for yourself, fangboy. I’m a charm to be around.” She threw him a 100-Watt smile and laughed.

Shaking his head, the bleached vamp rooted through the closet for his coat. After all Hilary had been through, driving her home was the least they could do, to make sure she got home safe--well, aside from saving her. It certainly didn’t make up for all the pain he’d caused in the past century, but a drop in the bucket was still a drop in the bucket--get enough of them in there, and eventually the bucket begins to fill up.

***

The drive to Hilary’s was spent in near-silence, the only sound being the brunette’s directions to her home. All three were lost in thought, thinking about loved ones, lost ones, and the hands that fate had dealt to each of them.

When they pulled up to a small brick bungalow, Hilary’s voice could hardly be heard. “Here,” she pointed out, almost in disbelief that she was finally home. All three got out of the car and stood at its front, illuminated by the car’s beams.

Hilary was the first to speak, feeling the necessity to thank the two blondes who plucked her from a potential life of hell on earth. “I’d say thank you, but I don’t think that quite covers it, you know. You’ve given me my freedom, my life back. You’ve shown me that there still is good in the world, even if it comes in the oddest of packages.” At this, she looked at an uncomfortable Spike.

“Heck, I’ll say it anyway.” She threw her arms around Buffy and gave her a bear hug. “Thank you, Buffy, for everything. For risking talking to me at that club, for helping me get out of there, for the bath and for the clothes...” She sniffed back tears and released her hold on the Slayer.

Hilary moved to face Spike, who had a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. She hesitated for a moment but decided that the bleached vamp deserved a hug as well. She slowly approached him and put her arms around his neck. To her surprise, the vampire returned her embrace--albeit awkwardly. Placing a quick kiss on his cheek, she took a step back. “And thank you, Spike. Thanks for risking your life to get me out and thank for proving that goodness lurks in the strangest of places.”

The vampire’s face furrowed as if he was trying to remember something important. “Oh, yeah--hold on a sec, ducks.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Taking out a wad of bills, he handed them to the young woman. “This is money that I won off the Pelorak--I reckon you’ve a right to it, seeing what you went through. Go buy yourself... well, just spend it on whatever you like.” When the girl had taken the money and thanked him, he put the wallet back in his pocket.

Hilary looked at them one last time and turned, walking up the path that led to the front door. She stopped when Buffy called out to her. Turning to face the blonde, she waited to see what was the matter.

How could she have forgotten this most important of details? “What’s the baby’s name?”

The brunette smiled and, looking at the horizon which was beginning to lighten, replied “Dawn.”

The two blondes watched her knock at the door and be greeted by her father. There was much commotion, many hugs and even more tears of joy. Feeling like they were invading the family’s privacy, they returned to the car.

The evening’s stress finally reached Buffy, who broke down in tears. Spike pulled her into his arms, all awkwardness at holding his Slayer having dissipated. It seemed so natural, comforting her in his arms. He pulled her in closer, wrapping his arms around her shaking frame. After a few minutes, and when the Slayer’s tears slowed, the vampire placed a kiss at the top of her head and took a step back.

“We’d better be off, pet. The sun’s about to come up and I don’t feel like having to make a dash from the car to the hotel.” He held the door open for her, like a perfect gentleman.

Neither saw the curtain in the bungalow’s front window part, as a tearful pair of brown eyes watched her saviours drive away, smiling at the luck she‘d had by meeting them.

Next