Title: Confronting the Sun (1/1)

Author: Sandy S.

Email: ssoennin@juno.com

URL: http://www.geocities.com/ssoennin

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Joss and UPN.

Dedication: For my Aunt Steph who loves vampire stories.

Spoilers: Through Season 6.

Summary: Set in the year 3002. Spike and Buffy are still together. The world's changed just a little bit. Buffy's POV.

Author's Note: 1) This story is based on a short story, which I wrote a long time ago (1995, I think) called "Dreaming of the Darkness," which you can find on my site. Some passages that I particularly like may be pulled from the story and put in this one. The 1995 story was supposed to be novel length, and I only wrote the prologue and first chapter. The plot is similar, and the ending is the one I planned for my other story..Hope you enjoy it! ;o) 2) For some reason, assume Spike knows how to play the piano.



Confronting the Sun

"But when the sun in all his state

Illumed the eastern skies,

She passed through Glory's morning-gate,

And walked in Paradise." --James Aldrich

3002

As per our routine, my mind stirs awake before he even thinks about moving. My senses reach out beyond the hidden wells of my dreams to languidly test the environment around us. The first thing I notice is how firmly his strong lean arms encircle my ribs and waist to hold me on his lap.the way he's held me since I left him the first time. The corners of my mouth upturn slightly because I haven't been away from his side for at least six hundred years.

Inhaling his familiar scent of cigarettes, fresh soap, and the mints he's so fond of sucking before he kisses me, a quiet growl unconsciously rises in the back of my throat as if to say he's *mine* and no one else better dare draw near. At the sound of the noise in the back of my throat, his body shifts under me, and the coolness of his bare torso presses against the length of my body. He returns the shiver that suddenly runs down my spine with a small shudder and deep-throated groan of his own, and I use the moment to reluctantly untangle myself from his jungle of limbs.

Balancing shakily on my sleep-cramped legs with my naked toes curling slightly at the iciness of the space ship's floor, I gaze at him as if I have never before seen him. He takes my breath away every time.even after centuries. His tousled curls have been the color of chestnuts as far back as I can remember although I acknowledge a vague recollection that his hair was once bleached blond, garish auburn, and honey brown at various points in our journey.

Sometimes I still cannot believe this gentle yet proud vampire.man.is mine.

In those moments as now, I reach out a single finger and trace the contour of his cheekbone so that he instinctively nuzzles toward my palm. I trail a feathery touch down his neck, over his collarbone, and down his arm to where my path ends at his left hand. While he is lost in the oblivion of the unconscious realm, I am not subjected to the intensity of the blue depths of his eyes and can marvel at his long fingers, which usually reach toward his chest when I am not snuggled next to him.

Hands and fingers fascinate me. One can learn so much about a person by what he does with his hands.

I marvel that hands, which can maim and kill the demons we've fought over the decades, can be so tender and loving with me. In awe again by the humanness he still attempts to hide on occasion, I notice the tears rising up to mar my vision. Breaking contact with my lover, I wipe the salty, warm cascade away and swallow in determination.

Today is the day that our fate will be determined, but first, I want to remember the defining events..

* * *

2007

Slipping into the house as silently as possible, I keep my ears perked for any sign that Spike is awake. Only the quiet hum of the dishwasher and the air conditioner fills my mind as I slip off my winter coat and pumps, groaning at the dull ache in my ankles and joints that I now know comes from more than just slaying and wearing heels. Quietly padding up the stairs in my now bare feet, I use the handrail to prevent my footfalls from being too loud. After all, Spike has his acute vampire hearing.

I usually try not to wake him during the day, so he is fresh for demon slayage with me at night. Sometimes, if I'm feeling feisty, I will pounce on his prone form and startle him out of his dreams. If he is really far- gone to reality, he switches immediately to his vampire face, complete with fangs and ridges that he patiently lets me explore with all the tingling nerves in my fingertips and lips.

Today, after the news I received, I just want to be near him, snuggled up in the cool comfort of his arms.

I approach our bed cautiously, my senses on hyper-alert for the slightest hint of movement. In the darkness, he lies unmoving on his side with one hand tucked underneath the pillow, and his face is the picture of peace that comes in a boneless sleep. My scalp tickles a little in the nearness of his presence, and in slow motion, I lift the sheets, feeling the rolling air drafts that roll past me before I slide dress and all into the place where my whole world rests. I ease my back and hips against his chest, wiggling my hips slightly to find our familiar comfortable position. In his sleep, his free arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer to him as I inhale his scent and making me wish for a moment that he were awake.

My wish comes true.

"Kitten?" His voice is hoarse and low from disuse, and the breath from his speech laves over my earlobe, sending goose bumps flying across my skin.

I don't feel like talking about what happened just yet. "Ummm."

"What did the doc say?"

Twisting in his embrace, I face him with a shy smile and peer into his eyes from wide lids. "I love you."

"Love you, too, pet," he returns, kissing the tip of my nose. "But you didn't answer my question."

He knows me too well.how I like to avoid telling him things that scare me. He has always been patient and persistent with me. That's one of the characteristics I love most about him.

"Can we talk about it later, and," I run a finger down his chest seductively, "do other things now?"

He grabs my hand with his free one. "No," he insists. He can tell something is wrong.

Tears brim over my lashes and spill in hot trails over my cheeks. His fingers immediately are there, wiping away the liquid that is stinging my face. His lips sweep over my skin, which only makes me cry harder.

He sighs softly, "Please tell me, love. I want to know, so I can help."

I bury my head in his chest so that my voice is muffled. The truth sound better that way. "Leukemia. A-adult lymphocytic leukemia. I-I have a pamphlet d-downstairs."

Stroking his hand down the length of my spine, he lets me sob openly.

After several minutes, he finally asks, "W-what does that mean?"

"I'm dying."

"Are they sure? I mean, the docs? How do they know you're dying?" His tone is desperate for a small hope.

"I'm too far along. And with my body producing more white blood cells than most people because I'm a slayer, the growth of the damaged white blood cells is more rapid. Hence, there's nothing they can do."

Tears fall unbidden down his cheeks. Reaching up to cup his face in my palm, I smile in the realization that I love how he can display his rawest emotions with me. He's the first person I've ever known who feels so deeply and isn't afraid of his feelings.

He scowls suddenly and pushes away slightly. "Stop smiling. There's nothing to bloody smile about. I'm losing you all over again."

"Damn slayer healing powers. Never thought I'd be saying that one," I jest mildly, trying to soothe him in my own fashion. "And you haven't lost me, yet. I'm still here. Not going anywhere. I love you."

His muscles stiffen as his mind wars with the swirl of emotions that are painted in his eyes. In one motion, he leaves my side and our bed, causing me to gape at him in shock. "I gotta go. I gotta have some time to process this."

He pulls on a pair of jeans and is striding toward the door as I call after him, "It's sunny outside, Spike."

"I'll be all right," his voice echoes back to me.

TBC.

2007, two weeks later

"Love?" Spike whispers in my ear as I lay half-dozing on the living room sofa.

I painfully open one eye at him. "Yeah?"

He sits down with a sigh next my feet and picks up one leg gently. He massages my calf muscle, careful not to press too hard because too much pressure bruises me. "I made sure Dawn left for uni for her night classes this evening. She didn't want to go, but I thought it'd be good for her to get out for a bit."

Wincing as one of his motions on my leg sends a sharp shoot of pain up my body, I manage to smile, "Good."

"Did you manage to eat anything?" He switches to the opposite leg.

"No. A little," my volume fades toward the end of my brief utterance, and I leave my eyes shut, relishing his touch on my bare thigh beneath my nightgown.

I know he's studied the still full soup bowl on the coffee table before he speaks again, "Are you sure you don't want to go back to the hospital, love?"

Spike, Dawn, Xander, and Willow forced me to go to the hospital emergency room last week after I fell down the stairs and received a nasty cut on my face and almost broke my arm. The bleeding refused to stop, so I relented and went to the emergency room.

"No," I state adamantly. "No tests." The doctors at the hospital had run what seemed like an infinite number of tests on my blood. I know I must appear to be a junky with my arm dotted with unhealed needle holes, my hair limp, and my skin pale.

Spike is silent but pensive as he finishes massaging my legs, and then, he softly picks me up and cradles my body in his lap.

"Ummm.loving the holding," I murmur weakly. His body is cold against the constant fever that I'm running.

A heartbeat later, he asks, "Have you thought about what we discussed?"

"No. Need more time to decide." I press my forehead into his neck.

"Buffy, we don't have more time. You could go any moment. The doctors know what they're talking about, love.this time, at least."

"I know."

He says nothing. I let several minutes pass, and he brushes his hand back and forth over my shoulder blade rhythmically. Aware of the magnitude of what I am about to do, I draw up as much energy as I can, lift my head, and open my eyes. For the first time that evening, his sapphire eyes shine into my own.

"Yes," I declare clearly so that neither he nor I can mistake the meaning of my word.

"Are you certain?" He is hesitant because the turn of events is not what he expected.

I make up for his uncertainty, "Yes, I am sure."

He lays me gently on the sofa and balances on his arms above me, taking steps not to smash my frail body. "Feel free to stop this at any time. And remember how much I love you no matter what happens."

Too fatigued to reply, I smile and tell him to continue with my eyes. He sweeps my hair away from my neck and licks the scar where Angel, the Master, and Dracula have bitten me in the past. He growls as he shifts to vampire face, and I shiver as I feel two tiny needles of pain dig into the surface of my flesh. His teeth remain in place as he allows the implications of the decision I made to become real in my mind. I feel something wet on my neck, and I recognize the source is not my blood but tears falling from my sweet lover's eyes.

With that, I make my decision final.

Inhaling so deeply my chest hurts, I bring my neck forward so that his teeth fully enter my neck and my bloodstream.

At first, the injury aches acutely, and my natural instincts encourage me to fight the bond as my lover drinks. I push my palms against him almost desperately. Slowly, the distress eases like a raging river, and I comprehend that this experience is going to be nothing like the bond I shared with Angel when I allowed him to drink from me to save him. This time, someone is saving me because neither of us has had enough time together. We are defying nature in the most selfish way possible.

Slowly, the distress of the initial merging eases like a raging river that is dammed off to a gentle stream, and I relax as he empties my body's life force as if he is a man dying of thirst in a dehydrated desert. We make no audible sounds although the flames from the fireplace roar like we are drowning in the fiery sea of hell.

My body becomes lighter and lighter until I feel weightless, and I know that if I let loose his arms, I will undoubtedly soar up into the heavens and leave the planet forever. I do not fear whatever is to happen next, and I do not resist when he comes to his feet and races me from the intense blaze of luminescence into the cold shock of night.

He runs, it seems, faster than the deadly winds of a hurricane, and I manage somehow to turn my head against the abrading force. I tremble as the remainder of the heat in my limbs dissipates into the wind and is reabsorbed by the energy of the living earth.

Am I dying? I do not feel dead. Although my soul is slick with sticky blood, life holds onto my fingertips with fierce concentration.

I hardly notice when the atmosphere changes, and the gale ceases. My vision is blurry as he carries me into the shelter; the only clear object my mind registers is a row of long, pearl-white teeth that glow against the gulf of shadows. My mind grasps the purity, and the whiteness grows to fill my entire consciousness.

He settles down with me curled despondent on his lap, and his fingers reach out to caress the ivory planks. The diaphanous notes swirl around my desiccated muscles and allow them to unearth and gather small puddles of oxygenated blood. Instinct guides me slowly up the wall of his chest and over his rising and falling shoulder to reach his broad neck.

My eyes focus on a pulsating artery that cries out with the richness of life.my life. My entire body is scraping up the last of its vitality, and I want what lies beneath the gossamer layer of skin. As if the blood vessel registers my desire, a thin stream of red liquid erupts with a will of its own through the barrier. My tremulous tongue reaches to catch the flowing drops.

My senses are immediately overwhelmed and intoxicated. Every cell of my being is consumed with a need for more. With renewed strength, I reach up and up to suck and suck, joining his powerful essence with my weakened one.

The music drives on with increasing complexity and potency.

His life force plays and dances through my blood vessels in time to the notes that erupt forth from his fingertips until suddenly I reach the bottom of his soul. Afraid to resume my original velocity, I hesitate.

The urgency of his movements forces me to continue.

I meet with raw, unadulterated pain that sweeps forward and mingles with the naked motif. The mournful melody permeates every inch of the atmosphere and soon fills my own soul until I am intricately and permanently connected to him.

Deliberately, the music begins to fade into the obscurity of the piano's memory. Vainly and feebly, his shaking hands try to force me away. Stalwartly, I cling to his neck, passionately trying to regain the euphoria I have just experienced. At last, I feel him summon all his mental energy and hurl the force directly at me.

We tumble apart.

I am aware that he stands unsteadily. I attempt to imitate his actions, but in the strangeness of never felt inebriation, I collapse to the smooth ground. Drowsiness washes over me.

He arrives at my side, and with a struggle, he lifts me onto a soft, cushioned plane. As I sink down, my fingers run lightly over his forearms. How very odd I feel. With keen awareness of my body, I listen for the sound of my heart, but I cannot hear anything. I am so tired. The newness can be explored later.

He falls in exhaustion next to me, and he draws me close.closer than he and I have ever been. I still have my soul; I can feel it, wrestling around inside of me, fighting the newly born demon. I know who will win. That's my last thought as I fall asleep, dreaming of the darkness.

And I have never been happier in my life.



TBC..(next stop 2016)

2016

"Rachel! Grab my stake!" I shout to the newest slayer as I pin the struggling vampire to the moldy concrete crypt wall.

The willowy Rachel breezes past me with her long, auburn hair flying behind her, and before I blink, a wooden stake hurls through the air and punctures the captive demon's heart. The vampire stares at me in surprise before dissipating in a cloud of dust.

"Thanks!" I call as I whirl to witness Spike being outnumbered by five other vampires in the nest.

"Welcome," Rachel returns, leaping at one of the vamps on Spike's back.

Spike sends a fist into the abdomen of one of the creatures nearest me so that he stumbles in my direction. "Buffy, love, here's one for you!"

"Oh, Spike, just what I've always wanted." I wink at the vampire dressed in tattered clothing and use his bewilderment to kick him in the face, adding a jaw fracture to his list of head injuries.

"Glad you like him, pet. I was a little worried."

I hear the faint sound of vampires exploding into oblivion as Spike and Rachel simultaneously take out their prey. Then, overlaying the reverberation of my own successful kill, a shrill beeping ring echoes from my waist. Punching a button to end the noise, I glance down at the tiny machine to see the number and read the message, "Baby.SOS."

"Time for the baby?" Spike asks, concern and the edge of excitement in his tone as he approaches me from behind.

Glaring at the remaining two vampires who stood paralyzed by the realization that they are now outnumbered, I reply to Spike, "Yep."

Rachel, Spike, and I easily overtake the two vamps. They are heading out the crypt door when I catch the slightest movement out of the corner of eye. I turn and plant my hands on my leather-covered hips impatiently. Even with my enhanced vampire vision, I can't find the source of the activity.

"C'mon out. I haven't got all day. Unlike you, I have places to go and people to see," I demand.

Rachel and Spike are moving around opposite sides of the crypt, successfully blocking the hiding demon from escaping. A small child with dirty, scraggly hair and wrinkled clothing climbs out of the tomb in the center of the room and blinks at me with wide blue eyes. My senses scream that this little girl is a vampire. I'm uncertain what to do next.

I squat to the ground, and the tiny girl, who must have been only seven or eight-years-old at the time of turning, runs to me. I can't fathom what she must have been through, and memories of my own turning rush through my brain like someone dumped a gallon of water over my head. Reaching out a hand, I caress her full cheeks, and she smiles. She is beautiful but probably only knows pain. Might I take her home with me and teach her the ways that Spike and I practice?

At that moment, the girl turns her face to my palm and shifts into game face, biting deep into my flesh. I cry out in astonishment and pain and jerk away. The girl scampers into the night with Rachel in close pursuit.

Spike pulls me close in silence and then, steps back to examine my hand with me. Blood wells to the surface of my palm and drips to the floor as I watch intrigued. As he rips a strip of cloth from his T-shirt, my pager begins to beep again. A flash of confusion washes over my face as my thoughts attempt to refocus.

Spike reaches to my waist and snaps off the pager. "Are you okay, pet?" He gazes into my face as he wraps my hand with skill that only comes with much practice at dressing wounds.

I shake my head, trying to snap out of my trance. After a brief time lag, I offer him a nod to let him know that I'm doing fine.

He kisses my forehead and whispers in reference to the girl, "You know it's for the best, right, pet?"

Not returning his affection because I'm still trying to make sense of what I'm feeling, I nod again.

A breathless Rachel appears in the doorway, hair in disarray and used stake in hand. "Are we going to the hospital?"



TBC...still 2016 Wow! Thanks everyone for reviewing! ;o)

2016, fourteen hours later

Leather duster floating behind him, Spike is pacing back and forth in the windowless hospital waiting room as if *he* is the father of Dawn's child. I'm so used to his accelerated energy that I only watch in vague amusement. He loves Dawn so much, and the pregnancy has not been easy on her body. She almost had a miscarriage twice and was bleeding when her doctor ordered her on bed rest until the baby was born. I can't count the number of hours over the last two months of her pregnancy that Spike has been by her side, keeping her company while her husband, Martin, worked at the law firm.

Removing my eyes from Spike for a moment, I glance at Rachel who is fast asleep with her head heavy on her watcher's shoulder and her body limp in her grass-stained slaying outfit. She is only sixteen years old and has been slayer for a mere year and a half. I recall how I felt at her age when slaying was new and fresh and my world had yet to turn completely upside down.

Her watcher, a stocky young man named Sean, smiles at me through eyelids that are threatening to close. Although at first he was skeptical until Giles, my watcher, explained my situation to him, he has generously adjusted to Spike and my presence in Rachel's training and has joined Giles in his support of us among the Watcher's Council in England.

Rachel is from Canada and left her family in Ontario when she moved to Sunnydale. Sean owns a small house near the high school and feeds, clothes, and provides shelter to Rachel whose own family can't provide for her. He already loves her like his own daughter. I'm glad Spike and I are available to help because I don't want to see the grief in Sean's eyes if she were to die in battle.

Spike crosses in front my view of the sleepy couple and plunks down in the chair next to me with his legs and arm sprawled, shaking the whole row of attached seating. "Bloody hell. How long does this delivery thing take?" He rakes a hand through his hair and rolls an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

"Sometimes more than twenty-four hours," I inform him, anticipating his reaction.

"Twenty four hours! We have to stay here," he points to the litter strewn carpet, "for twenty four hours? While Dawn's in there," he stabs his finger toward the delivery wing, "with doctors doing god knows what to her and the babe?"

The corners of my mouth lift despite my effort not to grin. "Yeah. Sometimes it's longer than that." I pat his thigh briefly.

"Longer?!" I notice that Rachel startles awake and almost falls out of her seat when Spike practically shouts and jumps to feet to begin pacing again.

Rachel looks at Spike and then at me. "Are you guys hungry? I can run to the butcher's and pick up some blood since it's daylight, and things might take a while."

Spike shakes his head, and I speak for both of us, "No, thank you, Rachel. We'll be fine. Spike's just. . . being nervous for all of us."

The young slayer stretches her arms and hops to her feet. Holding her hand out to Sean, she announces, "Well, I'm starved. I'm off to raid the snack machines."

"What's this?" Sean teases, gesturing at her open hand.

"Money. Now. Hungry," she explains with a playful pout. Sean hands her several one dollar bills, and Rachel grins, grabs Spike's coat pocket, and begins dragging him out of the waiting room. "You're coming with me, mister." Spike growls but accedes.

When the two are far enough down the hall to not overhear, Sean opens a conversation with me, "I spoke to the Council tonight while you were raiding the nest."

Spike knows nothing about my recent concerns regarding the Council, and I am pleased that Sean honors my wish to not get Spike involved unless absolutely necessary. "What did they say?"

"They met again on the status of your assistance with Rachel. The arguments were the same as they have been in the past. only this time there was greater support for eliminating Spike and moving you to England. Apparently, many of them still want to keep an eye on you," he reports grimly.

The Council learned that Spike was helping me after he attained his soul fourteen years ago. The Council members had no say at that point in my affairs because Travers, their leader, knew better than to interfere with the Giles-Buffy team. Since then, Travers died, and I was turned. Other slayers were called and killed in various parts of the world. My position among the Council became more tenuous, especially when we began interfering in their plans for Rachel. They want to regain the control over the slayer that they once had. Luckily, Giles is still a force among the Council for us in England, and Sean is now an ally although he has less influence because he is in the United States and because he is younger than I am if I were still alive.

"Well, at least they're past the having Rachel slay us phase," I comment.

Rubbing his eye with a finger, Sean chuckles sleepily and adds, "Well, Giles reminded them of the rationale for you two helping her again. He told them for the upteenth time that she would benefit and become a stronger, longer lived slayer with two vampires. her main prey. training her."

"And?"

"They reluctantly assented."

"Good." I am perfectly aware that the issue is not over.

"Hey," an exhausted masculine voice calls from the entrance to the waiting room.

We turn to view Dawn's husband holding himself up with the doorframe. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his unshaven jaw, and the redness of his hands that look like they've been squeezed to death, he's wearing the goofiest little smile. Sean and I stand, eagerly waiting for his news.

"She's a beautiful girl. Six pounds, nine ounces. Natalia."

* * *

2016, the next evening

Spike slips catlike up behind me and enfolds me into his arms. Smelling of a recently smoked cigarette and of the peppermint that he's flipping around in his mouth, he lowers his head to my shoulder so that he's on level with my view of the world. I place my forearms over his, tracing circles on the backs of his hands with my fingertips.

"Knew I'd find you here, pet," he breathes into my ear.

I'm standing at the window to the maternity ward newborn room, staring at Natalia's round fair head and tuft of dark hair. Her expression is one of utter peace as she sleeps, her tiny rosebud mouth working occasionally as she dreams.

"Did you know that her eyes are blue like Dawn's when she opens them?" I ask in a low voice.

"Really?"

"Yes." I pause. "She's perfect. so beautiful. makes me just want to protect her from the horrors that she will soon experience."

"Buffy."

"Hmmm?"

"Do you sometimes regret staying here with me?"

I turn to raise my eyebrows at him. "What do you mean?" My gaze returns to the small life on the other side of the glass. "I love you. And where else would I go? You and Dawn are my whole life."

"I mean, do you sometimes regret me turning you?" he persists, rubbing my stomach.

My stomach drops as compassion floods my heart at the pain and tinge of fear in his words. Tightening my hold on his arms, I squeeze him tenderly. "No. Never."

Natalia's foot kicks out from beneath her hospital dress.

"I saw how you looked at the child vampire last night. You wanted to take her home with us."

How does he know me so well? And he never lets me get away with not admitting the truth to him and myself. "Yes."

"You know what she would have done. We don't even know how old she was. She could have been decades old."

"Are there many children who are turned into vampires?" I wonder.

Natalia opens her eyes, squinting a bit in the light of the room. I can see her pink toothless gums as she begins to cry in hunger. A nurse promptly strides across the room and gently cradles the wailing baby in her arms as she softly presents her with soothing sounds.

"Well, older vampires. before my time. used to turn three or four children. Say, one child for every ten minions."

"Why?"

"They viewed it as increasing their chances of keeping everyone fed and happy. Not many people could resist an innocent little child in need of help."

"That's terrible." I shiver at the idea of witnessing a child vampire feeding.

"Yes."

"How come they stopped doing it as much? Turning children, I mean."

"Most vampires found it to be too disturbing to have child vampires around especially after they got past a certain age. And minions who were younger vamps than the child vamps were intimidated and ended up killing many of them. Eventually, the practice of turning children to vampires dwindled," Spike explains while watching Natalia as I am.

"Oh."

The nurse is readying Natalia for a trip to see her mother. I guess that Spike and I should head upstairs to meet with Dawn during designated visiting hours.

Spike breaks away and leans against the glass window with his palms on the ledge. He holds my attention with the seriousness in his eyes. "Buffy, do you regret not being able to have a child?"

I have to tell him the truth. "Sometimes," I murmur, not able to maintain eye contact at the thought of him hurting.

In the corner of my eye, Spike bows his head. After a few minutes, he speaks, "I wish I could do something about that, pet, but I can't. You know I'd give you the world if I could."

Without hesitation, I throw myself at him, lacing my arms inside his coat and crushing him to me as a child might hug him. "Ooooh, mister. I know."

After an instant of being stunned, he kisses the top of my head and brushes his lips against mine. "I love you."

I purposefully make sure he views the truth in my face as I pull back and really look at him. "I love you, too. And if I have to give up having babies in favor of having you in my world, I'd gladly do it all over again. You *are* my world."

A door clicks open, and the nurse from the other room wheels Natalia into the corridor. She smiles when she recognizes us. "Hey, aren't you two relatives of little Natalia here?"

Returning her amicable expression, I release Spike but still grasp his hand while stepping toward the nurse. "Yes."

"Well, then. Would you like to hold her for a minute before I bring her up for a feeding?"

"Oh, yes!"

The next thing I know, I feel the tiny warm bundle squirming in my arms. Her sweetness and beauty amaze me, and I beam back at Spike whose eyes sparkle with joy in response.

* * *

2425

The faint ring in the back of my mind triggers my retricular activating system, and I am instantly fully conscious with any peaceful dreams swept under the rug. I dislike the implants required by the Watcher's Council that allow instant contact between and among members; however, they've only woken me from sleep once or twice, so I am less inclined to waste my energy protesting the use of such devices.

Wanting to prevent waking Spike who sleeps soundly with his body spooned around me, I deliberately and carefully remove myself from his embrace. He smiles faintly as I pause to lightly kiss his forehead and brush my hand through his soft curls. Over the centuries, he has been my rock and my deepest love. He taught me to utilize my vampire senses to my greatest advantage, and he taught and continues to teach me how rich unlife, which I now know is really just life, can be.

The ringing in my brain increases in volume, so I reluctantly stride over the plush carpet through the sliding door to the study, which is replete with bits and pieces of Spike and me. He has a taste for antiques, so the room is decorated with a richly colored rug, and our desk is strewn with compact discs of an era gone by. I can almost hear the music in my head and picture him dancing around the room when he thinks I'm not watching. I smile at the mental image as I clean away the mess and settle down at the single, plain screen in the middle of the desk.

Already irritated, I press the lone button. The machine comes to life instantaneously and picks up the signal from the miniscule device in my brain. I sigh when I recognize the person on the screen.

"What do you want in the middle of the day, Roger? You know I sleep during the day," I say, trying my best to sound put off by his intrusion. He usually leaves me alone if I let him know that he's interrupting something.

Roger is my liaison with the Watcher's Council. As the slayer who has lived the longest.the only one who has become a vampire and survived past the first century of unlife, I am valued as an asset to the Council. However, my relationship with the Council has varied over the centuries.

At first, they wanted to kill me and especially Spike. They deemed us too much of a risk to have running around the planet; they believed our power would be too great and would cause a war between demons and mankind. a war humans didn't stand a chance of winning if the demons were organized properly. More than one hit party was sent to capture and/or kill Spike and I. After a couple of centuries of aiding and extending the lives of several slayers, Spike and I were halfheartedly accepted as "part of the team" as Roger terms our current relationship with the Council.

"I'm sorry, Buffy, but this is a matter of some urgency," Roger explains, his face a mask of apology. He is thin wisp of a man almost paler than Spike and I. He appears to be much younger than his stated age of forty- five years even without the genetic alterations most humans undergo at his age to remove the lines, wrinkles, and blemishes of age. Yet, in contrast to his seemingly meek appearance, he is a powerful force among the Council members and will likely be promoted to Council head after the latest retires or dies. I am relieved to have him as an ally.

"Okay. So, spill it. And don't leave out any details," I command.

"Do I ever leave anything out?" Unlike the shady nature of many Council members, he doesn't hide important information. "There's been a problem with the new slayer."

"Not again." Spike and I have little to do with the new slayer who resides in what used to be called Europe while we remain in what used to be the state of California. The new slayer is only fourteen-years-old and a bit of a rebel.

"Yeah. She's apparently gotten a little out of control for the last couple of weeks. She 'fired' her Watcher. And now she's gone off on a rampage around the world. We can't seem to locate her even with the standard device in her head."

"Roger, I realize she was already not an easy girl to train and control like you'd like, but something must have triggered her recent behavior," I observe and subsequently watch Roger's expression become almost fearful.

"Well, that's just it. There's something we need your help with." I note that he is trying to peer around the study.

"What, Roger? What are you searching so hard for?"

"Is Spike around?"

"No, he's not. For some reason, I think he might be sleeping," I comment as sarcastically as possible.

Roger ignores my tone. "Good. This involves only you. You are not to tell Spike."

"Whoa, wait a minute. I tell Spike everything. And plus, we've been together for over four centuries now." Roger should be able to grasp that; after all, humans are living for a little over two hundred years now. "Let's just say, he knows me a little. How do you expect me to hide something from him?"

"Trust me; you'll want to."

"How about you tell me what's going on, and then, I'll decide what to tell or not tell Spike."

Roger frowns but continues, "Vampires killed Vanessa's family two weeks ago."

"I thought that the Council had provisions in place to prevent that from happening after the disaster with Sophie's family in 2057." Two days after Sophie was called to be a slayer, vampires slaughtered everyone in Sophie's village in an unspeakable manner. in a fashion more vile than anything Angelus ever did to torture his victims.

"Well, the sticky part is that Drusilla led the party that slaughtered the girl's family."

I draw a sharp breath and my fists clinch involuntarily at the mention of Spike's ex-paramour and sire. I have found that my connection with Spike has increased my dislike of the vampiress on a deeper and more primal level. "Oh."

Although we hadn't heard from Dru in a couple of centuries, Spike and I both knew that she would eventually resurface. Truth be told, I know Spike is afraid for her to make a reappearance in our lives because then, he'll have to decide whether to slay or spare her.

"Buffy." I nearly jump out of my seat at the sound of the familiar but fading English accent, and I glance up to witness a bleary-eyed Spike standing over me. Guilt washes over me, and Roger looks uncomfortable.

"Hey, sweetie," I barely find my voice. "What're you doing up?"

Paying no attention to Roger, Spike bends over and nips my neck, surrounding me with his essence and whispering, "You know I can't sleep without you there."

"We haven't been apart since I can't remember when, so how do you know?" I return the affection by pecking his lips and cheeks.

"Well, I'm not sleeping now, am I?" He offers Roger a glance and a smirk. "Private conversation, eh, pet?" Spike's never been known for trusting Watchers, so he avoids them at all costs and always covers his uncertainty around them with bravado.

"Yeah, sort of."

He strokes my hair in a manner that sets my skin alight and makes me want to run away from Roger and climb back into bed with my lover. "Was gonna fix me a mug of blood out of the food dispenser. Want some, love?"

I nod, unable to remove my eyes from his retreating back before returning my concentration to Roger. "Okay. Please finish your tale."

"As soon as Vanessa's Watcher told her who Drusilla was, she withdrew from others. her friends, her Watcher. A few days later, she was gone. No one's seen her since."

"And this interests me because?"

"Because Vanessa left a note behind." Roger pauses uncertainly.

"Boy, you are the expert at dramatic storytelling today, Rog. Please just get on with it."

"Vanessa's after all the vampires who are in the order of Aurelius," he finally states.

"Does that mean. . . ?"

"You and Spike. She's after you and Spike."

Slayer instinct takes over, and I'm all business in an instant. "Was the DNA enhancement completed before she took off?"

In this century, the art of DNA modification has been almost perfected; however, various worldwide laws and restrictions prevent the use of many of the techniques available. The Council, being the veritable underground organization, is able to access certain of the outlawed procedures and has long been genetically enhancing each slayer's strength, versatility, and intelligence a short time after she is called.

"Unfortuately, yes."

"Damn." This news means that the already especially gifted Vanessa will be nothing less than a formidable opponent.

"Buffy, we need your help to find and stop her. Slayers have been shown to have unexplainable connections with one another. Right now, Vanessa has no idea where you and Spike are. By keeping you on the move and on the search for her, we hope that she'll focus on you, and then, we can catch up to her."

"And do what after you have her?"

"Lock her up or. . ."

"Let me guess. . . or eliminate her."

Roger stares me in the eye. "Yes."

"I'll cut you a deal. I'll do what you say as long as you guarantee to merely hold and rehabilitate her. No killing. And, I will tell Spike what's going on."

Roger raises his eyebrows at me. "I can promise that we'll do everything to achieve rehabilitation with Vanessa. But, you must not tell Spike."

"Why not?"

"To keep him from doing something to endanger himself. He is rather rash at times. And to keep him away from Drusilla. His presence would only complicate things. You don't want him to get killed. Plus, we need his continued presence on the hellmouth in your sector to help keep the demons at bay while we concentrate our other resources on the problems in sector fifty-seven."

Roger is playing on my deep love for Spike and my ever-present sense of duty, but I have to concede Roger's conjectures as true. To have a rogue slayer on top of the rising demon dangers in sector fifty-seven means Council resources are stretched mighty thin. I thoughtfully chew on my bottom lip. "Okay."

"A transport ticket has been added to your profile. You just have to undergo the usual eye scan."

"When?"

"Tonight. You'll arrive in London five minutes after your transport time, so be on time," Roger becomes firm after he has my consent to go along with the Council's plan.

"All right." I snap off the screen, hanging up on Roger. My mind is a whirl of feelings, and I'm annoyed but have no idea why.

Then, strong hands begin rubbing my shoulders and neck. "So tense, pet. What's wrong? Bad news from the Wanker's Council?"

I force myself to smile and pick up a warm mug of blood from the desktop. "No bad news. Just the usual." I take a large swallow of the life- enriching fluid to cover my lie. Despite my best efforts, I can tell Spike knows I'm not telling the whole truth. Roger never calls in the middle of the day unless he has important news.

Spike decides to overlook the truth, managing to pick me up and slide beneath me to hold me on his lap in the chair. He takes a sip out of his own glass before setting the blood aside and pulling my nightgown over my head with slightly more urgency than usual. I slowly turn to straddle and wrap my legs around him. Groaning at the kisses he tickles across my bare stomach, I vow to cherish this moment more than he will ever know.

TBC. . . still 2425. . .

2425, the next evening

I rush through the transport terminal because my reservation is only a handful of minutes away. I almost stumble over a man resting on the ground and knock shoulders with several people in my hurry.

The transport terminal is the epitome of twenty-fifth century travel. A terminal is located in every city with over one thousand people worldwide. Millions of people travel via the transports everyday, and the most interesting aspect of the system of travel is that it is totally free and supported by the world government. To travel, all one has to do is make a reservation, and one can be at one's destination within the hour. Having extra hours before a transport is rare and an almost impossible luxury. Apparently, the Council pulled some strings to give me several hours prior to my departure.

That can only mean one thing.

The Council knows that finding the rogue slayer is going to take a long time. I try not to think about the amount of time I'll be apart from Spike.

Slinging my small bag, which is packed with a few sets of clothing and a small cache of slaying supplies, onto the baggage store, I lean forward to get my eye scanned.

The computer network reads the device in my brain, which contains my identification and my transport reservation. "Buffy Summers," the computer voice softly intones, "you may proceed."

The frightening aspect of travel in this fashion is that vampires and other demons who died after having the brain device implanted are still able to pass through the security system at the transport terminals without leaving a trail. Of course, I received the device after death through Council influence. After much convincing by me and grumbling about "sodding government brain manipulators," Spike agreed to have one implanted as well. The closing argument was that without one, he could not travel with me.

Long hair streaming after me, I run to wait by the door of my transport room until the time is exactly 1705. The door to my room slides open with a quiet ding, and I hurriedly seat myself on the tiny chair in the center of the room. Pulling my pocket journal out of the pocket of my standard transport jumper, I decide I have just enough time to re-read the note I left Spike.

Closing my eyes, I conjure an image of him, awakening from peaceful dreams and slipping through the rooms of our compound in search of me. I wonder if he will sense my absence as soon as he wakes. I know I already notice a difference in myself without him by my side. Somehow, I feel half-empty. . . as if a bit of my soul is missing.

I picture him slumped at the bar in the kitchen nook, reading and re- reading the note I left in his personal journal with tears and lines of concern painted on his face. Half of me worries that I will have broken him for the final time and that he will walk into the sunlight without me. The other half of me worries that he will search the ends of the earth to find me and will end up getting killed by Drusilla or Vanessa. I silently pray that he is able to wait for me no matter how long my mission takes.

Re-opening my eyes, I touch my personal journal, and the machine comes to life. The note I left Spike fills the screen automatically, and I read the words aloud to make them more tangible in my mind because I'm still not certain if what is happening is real.

"My dearest love,

I know you won't understand when you receive this letter, but I am asking you to please trust me. I have to leave for a little while. If I tell you where I'm going and why, I'm afraid that you will come after me. To come after me would place you in a dangerous situation. . . in the path of a formidable force from which I can't protect you. I couldn't bear losing you, so I must leave you without much information.

As you probably guessed, the Wanker's Council (as you love to term them) is part of this mess, and they have recruited me to dig them out of the hole they've gotten themselves stuck in. They need you to stay in the area to control the hellmouth while they extend their other resources to sector fifty-seven. I am being sent on a special mission that requires my silence. I don't have any idea how long I'll be gone.

Please know that I miss you terribly already, and I love you always. I beg of you, do not come after me, and I'll be home sooner than you think.

Buffy"

The transport door slides back, and Roger is in the doorway to greet me. Only then do I notice how wet my cheeks are from the tears streaming down my face.

TBC. . . next stop 2427. . . Thanks again for all the reviews!!! :o)

2427

"Stop!" a feminine, heavily-accented voice cries out in the international language over the crowd in the airport. "Buffy Summers, stop where you are!"

Come on. Where is it, where is it, where is it? I tap my foot, play with the ends of my cropped blonde hair, and glance around nervously, my eyes scanning the people around me for the source of the shouts directed at me. Luckily, the international transport had been full, so a dense throng surrounds me, waiting for their eyes to be scanned for identification purposes and for their bags, buying me some time.

Noticing the group rippling to my right, I know my time is dwindling to nothing. At that moment, I spot my bag being transported onto the platform by the particle beams. Snatching the small tote up almost before it materializes completely, I duck past people to avoid the exit eye scan; otherwise, I'll be caught more quickly.

Racing through the transport terminal and thanking the powers that be it is nighttime, I search for any sort of hover vehicle that I can use to lead Vanessa into a less populated area.

Spying a young woman entering her obviously rented vehicle at the curb in front of the terminal, I shove her out of my path and leap into the control seat.

"Hey!" I hear her shout. "That's mine!"

"Sorry," I call out behind me as I start the forward moving system and rise into the air. Fingers dancing over the navigation keyboard, I enter a set of location coordinates, forwarding a copy to the Council's main network.

I glimpse Vanessa's lean form emerging from the terminal and pause to make certain that she sees me. When her eyes land on me, I release the brake and jerk forward, guiding my quarry to an area the Council managed to find for me.

Once I've set the vehicle in motion, the onboard computer does the rest of the work, giving my brain time to recuperate and plan.

The Council has had me on this mission for two years. Vanessa remained hidden for the first year and a half. No signs of her presence were detected by the myriad of identification stops around the world. The Council had me check out several bogus tips received by their agents. None of them panned out until Vanessa herself wanted to be located.

Six months ago, she sent an encrypted message through Council communication channels, announcing that she had found and slain Drusilla and her minion horde. Now she is turning her attention to other prey. . . me.

I took the news of Drusilla's demise with mixed emotions. Part of me remains glad that Dru is dust, but the other part of me aches because I know how much Spike will hurt when he hears the news. . . the way I hurt when Angel died over two hundred years ago.

And somehow, I *know* without a doubt that Spike has received the news about Drusilla. The Council has not told him, but Spike has his resources. He knows.

I regret not being there for him.

Though two years may not seem to be a long time in the course of four hundred years, I have never felt more alone. Each night, I achieve only a minimal amount of sleep, and I cannot count the number of pounds that have melted off my body. And if I am feeling this way with my knowledge of the truth of my situation, I can only imagine how Spike must be feeling.

A sharp crunch resounds in the air, and my vehicle jerks from the original path, almost hitting a nearby speeder. I pull the computer system offline and take manual control of my course.

My pursuer's stolen vehicle flies next to mine, and I catch a flash of Vanessa's reddish hair through the window. She rams sideways into me, and the flexible door bends and snaps back in place easily, so she switches tactics, forcing her vehicle up and over mine. Slamming down on top of me, she shatters the glass on my fore-window. The aftershocks of the blow reverberate through my bones, and the vehicle's computer is damaged, sending sparks into my face.

Time to force a manual landing. I focus my eyes outside the side window and espy a fairly deserted park a few yards away.

Perfect.

Making sure my weapons cache is firmly hooked over my shoulder, I pilot the wobbling machine toward the ground, carefully avoiding any cross air traffic. Several seconds later, I land with a bump similar to an old airplane landing. I whip off my body strap and push open the top of the vehicle, hopping lightly to my feet.

Vanessa has landed not far away, and I have seconds before I am engaged in the fight of my unlife. I shove a muscle paralyzer up my sleeve and pocket a sedative deliverer.

Crouching in a defensive position, I wait for Vanessa to engage me. I want to observe her fighting strategies before I attack. Through endless hours of training with Spike, I am now an expert at discerning the weaknesses of my opponents. While Vanessa has the advantage of power, I have the advantage of years of experience.

The upcoming fight does not intimidate me, but I am not a fool either. Vanessa is no pushover. She approaches battle the way I used to. . . without trepidation. After years of learning to survive and use all my feelings to the greatest advantage, I've learned to harness my anxiety and fear to give me an edge in a battle. Spike assures me acceptance of my feelings is better than ignoring or denying them.

"So, you must be Vanessa," I say, issuing the first communication.

The rogue slayer smirks at me, her features hardened. She does not appear to be only fourteen with her thatch of red hair streaked with burgundy and green. Her eyes flash steel grey when they meet my hazel ones. "And you must be Buffy. You know why I'm after you?"

I try to empathize first. "I understand, Vanessa, what you're going through. Vampires have done despicable things to my family as well." Images of Angelus and his rampage through my life flow into my conscious memory for the first time in years.

Vanessa begins to circle me, power pouring off of her body in waves, and for the first time, I feel strangely like a hunted animal. . . like the vampires I stalked and killed as a human slayer. "You could never understand. You're one of them. . . one of Drusilla's family."

"And I used to be a slayer," I remind her, trying to present myself as more human in her view, "Whose family and friends were tortured and murdered by Angelus."

"He was famous for harming members of his own. Doesn't mean they were innocents." Vanessa's knuckles noticeably whiten as she tightens the grip on her stake. I can feel her getting ready to pounce, so I ready myself for deflecting her attack.

A memory of Angel standing in my kitchen wearing an uncomfortable, pained expression issues forth. "Drusilla was psychologically tortured prior to being turned by Angelus. He killed her family and made her believe that she was evil and sinful. He took everything from her and drove her insane, and when she entered the convent to protect herself, he turned her."

"Doesn't matter. She's still soulless. She still killed my family."

I switch tactics. "Don't let what Drusilla did to your family destroy you, too. I'm here to help you. I know how hard it is to be a slayer."

Vanessa's face melts for a moment but then, resumes its armor. "Don't try to distract me. The world will be a better place when it's free of all demons. . . starting with all members of Drusilla's family."

Before I can reply, she launches herself at me. I anticipate her attack and block her initial flying kick easily.

"You'll have to do better than that, Vanessa."

Her arm swings out a well-timed punch that connects with my abdomen, throwing me back. If I had been human, I would have had the wind knocked out of me. "How's that?"

"Hmmm. Well, it leaves your left side wide open," I note, grasping her left arm and flipping her onto her back.

She kicks out as she falls, sweeping my legs out from under me. "Which I can use to my advantage."

I can tell she still hasn't taken me seriously. Obviously, she doesn't know Buffy Summers.

Rolling over the soft, genetically engineered grass, I land on my feet and whirl to face her as she hurls herself at me. Using her inertia against her, I send her tumbling over my shoulder to the ground. She grunts as her body connects with the unmoving surface, and before she knows what's happening, I am upon her, pinning her down.

"Vanessa, we just want to help you," I assert.

Breathing heavily, she grins. "Who's 'we'? The Council? They're a bunch of idiots who don't know what being a slayer is all about."

I have to agree with her on that point. "Well, even if the Council has ulterior motives, I don't, and I want to help you."

"I don't think so." In a characteristic slayer move, she wraps her legs around my ribcage and uses me to propel herself over my head to land behind me.

For several minutes, words and logic are lost in the fast-paced ballet of exchanged kicks, punches, dance steps, and acrobatics. For the first time since I've been a vampire, I am truly fighting, not just sparring, with a slayer, and I note with irony that I now understand exactly what Spike meant when he said that all we ever did was dance.

Loneliness shoots through my muscles, and I experience a momentary longing for Spike's presence.

Vanessa uses my lapse to her advantage and manages to pin me against a nearby tree trunk, which is more synthetic than actual wood, so I am not afraid of being staked on a stray branch. However, Vanessa jams what I am sure is a stake made of pure wood grain between my ribs, almost but not quite puncturing my flesh.

Sweat dripping off the young slayer's forehead, and her chest is slightly heaving. Her unidentifiable accent is thicker when she is tired. "So, I've got you now. I've defeated the legendary Buffy Summers."

Without warning, a lithe form clothed in a replica of the black leather duster he wore so many years ago crashes into Vanessa's left side, and the stake in her hand spins through the air. I pick the wooden instrument out of the air with a renewed ease and turn my attention back to. . .

Spike! My Spike is here!

TBC. . . still in 2427 *g* thanks everyone for continuing with the reading. . .

2427, a few seconds later

Stunned into inaction, I remain motionless with my mouth gaping wide. My lover moves with the grace of a lion and drives Vanessa across the park and away from me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that several speeders and air vehicles are now parked near my smoking one, and a small cluster of people press together, watching Spike and Vanessa's well-matched mêlée.

Their presence frightens me into action, and I palm my muscle paralyzer and rush toward the fray, hoping to end the conflict quickly before we draw attention that is not welcome. Knowing Spike's body language almost as well as I know myself, I detect every nuance without him saying a word, so when he stiffens at my nearness, I shiver in the fear of what is to come between us.

The battle pauses as three warriors contemplate their situation.

For her part, Vanessa's face is coated in the mask of an animal that knows she has nowhere to turn. Already tired from the battle with me, she is not ready for a fresh fight. "So, now I can kill two birds with one stone. . . end my pain in one evening."

She covers well but not well enough.

With a bitterness I have grown accustomed to not hearing from my lover's lips, Spike growls, "Slayer, you don't know whom you're dealing with here. I intend to make you my fourth."

My heart plunges at his words that cheapen the connection we shared so many years ago. He meant the words to frighten Vanessa but also hurt me as well. Trying to numb the sting of what he said, I remind myself that he only hurts me because he is hurting, too. However, the tinge of our past abusive relationship nags at the back of my thoughts. I file the doubts away for analysis after he and I are safe once more.

Similarly, Spike manages to push Vanessa's buttons past her level of tolerance, and she lunges at him with a battle knife raised. Spike merely reaches out his hand, grabs her wrist, and twists. The tissues in Vanessa's forearm emit a horrible tearing noise, and her face drains of vital color. She remains eerily silent and rips herself away, staggering back with her fingers still curled around the handle of the sharp blade.

As I watch dumbfounded, the crumpled waste of her arm begins to knit itself together again until her grip is once again fierce.

She sneers at my shock. "Guess they've improved the genetic technology a bit since the last slayer you've encountered, eh, Buff?"

In the instant Vanessa focuses her attention on me, Spike attempts to grab her by the shoulders. She anticipates his move, and kicks back at him, connecting her heel with his chin with a sharp crunch, sending him falling into a heap. "Won't work, pretty boy."

Gripping my metal weapon, I rush the rogue slayer, pressing her back to fall over Spike's prone body. Her damaged arm is weaker than earlier in our fight, and she drops the knife to break her own descent. I flow with her motion and press the paralyzer to her neck at full power, hoping the shock will disable her. Her body jolts and twitches as the electricity pours into her muscles and spinal cord.

Then, she stills.

Slowly and cautiously, I remove the weapon and collapse in exhaustion atop her hesitating chest. Her breathing is shallow, and her heartbeat sounds fainter than when I first encountered her. I remind myself that she is just a child. . . a child who has seen too much. Tears escape the corners of my eyes in mourning for her lost innocence.

Trembling, I rise to my hands and knees, wincing at the scrapes on my raw calves as I crawl toward Spike's unmoving form. The sharp scent of blood perfumes my senses, but I can't tell if the source is Spike or myself. Before I can touch his arm, a heavy form crushes into my body. I grunt in pain as one of my ribs breaks from the impact.

Vaguely, I feel the muscle paralyzer shove against my neck. The paralyzer doesn't work as well on a vampire, so I can't move but can witness Vanessa's face in mine. Her grin is maniacal, and her strange silence scares me half to death. I've never encountered a slayer so strong nor so insane with grief. . . except maybe Faith.

Dragging Spike into my field of vision where I lay upon the dirt, she brandishes another stake. Suddenly, the truth of what she is about to do dawns on me.

She is going to stake Spike in front of me. . . *make* me understand the depth of her sorrow. She doesn't realize that I already *know* how deeply carved her hurt goes.

Wincing at the warnings telegraphed by my wounds, I attempt to do everything I can to move. . . somehow move and stop Vanessa. . . to no avail.

Forcing my face to be a blank mask as Vanessa sits atop Spike's ribs and positions the stake against the flesh covering his unbeating heart, my ears are spectators to a distinct laugh and hoarse, bitter voice, "You can't fool me, Buffy Summers, childe of William the Bloody. I know you; I see you. And now you will feel as I do because I'm taking the last thing you have on this earth. . . as your grandmother did me."

My vocal cords are helpless to respond, so I plead with my eyes.

She watches me as she places her palm on the end of the wood, drawing out the moment as long as possible. When she brings her hand down hard, I squeeze my lids shut and will myself to be deaf, trying to block out the sight and sound of my lover turning to dust.

Instead, I hear a brittle cry issue from Vanessa and a familiar roar from. . . Spike! My eyes are instantly open, and I see Spike in full vampire face. He uses the element of uncertainty that Vanessa displays to pull her body close to his and tear into her throat. The sounds of greedy drinking permeate the air. Vanessa pushes vainly against his chest as I once had, but this time, my lover is not gentle. . . is not loving.

Within seconds, she is dead.

Not looking at my face, Spike is at my side immediately, and he gathers me into his lap. Staggering to his feet, he hefts my form and limps hurriedly toward the crowd of gawkers, shoving through their ranks to an unfamiliar vehicle. No one attempts to stop him because he still wears his game face, and his mouth is set in a straight, grim line.

Once we are in the air, he turns to me. Not sure what to expect, I eye him carefully. My heart breaks when his gaze is distant and cool. My body is tingling all over as the feeling in my limbs and my ability to move voluntarily slowly returns. I almost flinch when he brings a cup of something to my lips. . . .

Blood. . . slayer blood.

I glare and attempt to turn my head away in rejection. How dare he feed me slayer blood?!

Roughly, he smears some of the coppery liquid on my tightly closed mouth, and then, my demon momentarily takes over. Once I lick my lips the first time, I am overwhelmed by a such a feeling of excitement and inebriation that I overcome the effect of the paralyzer and lift my head to receive the rest of the powerful blood that he has saved for me.

Then, I hear the soft hiss of a medical inserter. My muscles relax, and before I can protest what is happening, I am asleep.

* * *

TBC. . . still 2527. . . Wow! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! ;o) The main thing is, though, that you're enjoying the story!

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