Chapter 26:

Glory dialogue taken from Checkpoint – and played with to fix the plot – forgive me JW!!

A massive HUG for Megan for betaing this chapter when she was snowed under with writing – SQUISH!!!

Italics = Thoughts


"Were is she?" Spike burst through the Magic Box door and spotted Tara sitting at the research table immersed in a letter.

Giles and Anya followed closely on his heels.

Spike ignored Giles whining at Anya about the scratches all down one side of his new car. Her retort to his less than manly whimpering was that she had saved his life and he owed her.

Tara looked up tiredly from the letter she was reading. It was from Willow; Tara having found it in amongst the letters behind the till. Anya had put it away safely that morning when it had arrived.

Spike slid to a halt at the look of concern on Tara's face.

"What happened?" he asked gently, his nostrils flaring as he scented Riley on Tara.

"It wasn't pretty." Tara tried to verbalise what she and Buffy had witnessed in the ward and struggled for the right words.

"Whitebread never was," Spike muttered as he sank down in the chair next to Tara. "Come on, luv, don't keep us hanging. What happened?"

Anya whispered to Giles and then disappeared out the shop door.

The older man hovered behind the till, keeping an eye on the door and listened to Spike coaxing out the news from Tara.

"Spike, she just ran off. I tried to stop her but she was too strong. I think, no, I know that seeing Riley in the state he was really shocked her."

"State? What has happened to the boy?" Giles leaned on the counter and stared expectantly at the girl.

"I tried to see… it felt like all his essence had been drawn from him. There was some sort of electrical imbalance. The doctor that Graham brought with him thinks that he might be able to help Riley."

"Graham?" Spike interrupted.

"One of Riley's friends from the Initiative," Tara explained softly. Spike tried to suppress the prickling of anger that shot through him. The Initiative where around and near Buffy? He growled quietly, trying not to burst into a fear-fuelled bout of pure ire.

Tara laid a hand on his arm, surprising him with her bravery at touching an un-chipped and extremely agitated Master Vampire. Her eyes bore into his and she quirked the corner of her mouth. "No need to worry, they have no idea about Buffy. I zapped her with a little warmth and they never knew."

“That worked out nicely then…." Spike stared in surprise at Red's girl. She was a revelation. Every time he thought he had her pegged, she threw a curve ball and shocked the hell out of him. He narrowed his eyes and wondered if she was a mind reader or something.

"Excellent idea. Last thing we need is the apparently not-so defunct Initiative discovering that Buffy has been turned-- that would be too much of a temptation for them." Giles nodded approvingly at Tara for her quick thinking.

Tara nodded, "Buffy was upset by the state Riley was in. He was covered in vampire bites, head to toe. I snuck a look at his charts and it seems that the vamps that got a hold of him had nearly bitten off his...his...um…" Tara gestured at Spike’s lap.

Both men inhaled deeply and loudly, and then reflexively covered their groins.

Spike suppressed a teeny smirk at the thought of Riley having his dangly bits chomped off.

"Oh my! Poor man," Giles exclaimed.

"Yeah, heartbreaking really," Spike added unconvincingly, earning a look of rebuke from Tara. "Wot? So I'm not tossing ashes on my head and weeping over Cap’ Cardboard’s near Bobbiting."

Giles failed to suppress the snort of laughter, and to everyone's utter surprise he started to giggle uncontrollably.

Anya clattered back in carrying several bags of take out and juggling a tray of coffees. She stopped, stupefied. "You broke Giles! What did you do to him? Fix him!"

Giles braced his hands on his knees and guffawed with laughter.

Anya looked from one to the other, "what's so funny?"

"A Vamp tried to bite off Riley's bits and bobs," Spike chortled.

"Oh, well now I understand Spike's mirth. A fitting end to something that Buffy had experienced first hand. Good news - no more feelings of jealousy, right Spike?" Anya nodded and began to unpack the food. She leaned over to Spike, "No great loss for womankind, I hear!" she smiled and winked at Spike. He suppressed a snort of laughter at her cheeky comment.

"Where's Buffy?" Anya asked as she pulled out the second container of blood and noticed that her friend was not there.

"Still waiting to find out about that!" Spike turned to Tara.

"So...so...sorry, she said she needed to think. I tried to stop her but she was too fast."

"When and which way?" Spike prodded gently, worry starting to fill him. Their run in with Glory had him concerned for all of their safety and no one should be on their own right now.

"Few minutes ago and off to the left. Spike, she was really shaken by Riley's condition. You know what she's like," Tara sighed. "And you know how fast she can move-- I couldn't catch up!"

Spike nodded grimly, "Yeah, silly bint'll be blaming herself about that wanker now."

Giles sat down and helped himself to a sandwich and some coffee. "If I know Buffy. She will be concerned that his involvement in her life resulted in Riley's current predicament. You say that the Initiative have taken him to their base?"

"Yes, they are going to try an fix whatever was done to him. But they have no basis for their research, they have no idea how this happened," Tara added worriedly.

"We can only hope that there is a cure." Giles handed Tara a cup of green tea with a gentle smile.

"Tara, did they tell you I saved them from Glory and Dracula?" Anya interrupted excitedly.

Spike rose. "You lot got the wards up, right?" He gestured to the exterior of the shop. Tara and Giles had spent several hours incanting projection and warning spells around the shop, Spike and Buffy's place, as well as their own homes.

All three of them nodded, and watched as Spike shot out into the night to find Buffy.

"You saved Giles and Spike? How?" Tara turned to Anya with a slight grin.

"Well, I was waiting in the getaway car and saw that Giles was about to be eaten and Spike pulverised. Did we mention that Glory and Dracula are working together? Very disappointing of Drac to side with someone so obviously demented. Anyway, I saw that they were in trouble so I rammed Glory with the car and shot the Bride about to chow down on Giles with that nifty little crossbow. You know, the one I found on Ebay."

********

Spike loped down Main Street. To the passer-by he looked like a normal human being, albeit a very good-looking one. But unknown to the casual observer, Spike was using all his vampiric senses to track down his missing childe.

There was a faint trace scent of her heading south and Spike turned and shot down the street, chasing after his girl. Her usual scents were intermingled with shock and a touch of guilt. He rumbled deep in his chest and began to walk faster and faster. Ignoring the twinges of jealousy he was feeling and focussing instead on Buffy.

***********

Buffy sank into the armchair and curled her legs under her, pulling her Mom's throw around her for comfort. The house was so still, almost lifeless without Mom or Dawn around. She missed them both. The daily calls weren't enough, and she was tempted to get Spike to drive her down to LA for a visit. But then reminded herself why they were there and not at home.

Glory.

Buffy curled up even tighter and was severely tempted to pull the throw over her head and pretend nothing was going on.

But it was.

Riley was a drooling vegetable.

Dawn was in danger.

And Spike was covering up something.

Something big which, when she found out what it was, he was going to be so much dust!

Buffy stared sightlessly at the framed picture her Mom had left out on her desk of the three of them. Her mind was filled with images of Riley and his bite-strewn body. She had barely been able to look at him let alone speak to Graham, the doctor or Riley. Instead, she had clung to Tara and let them discuss her ex and his situation. Buffy's hand crept into her slacks pocket and fingered the card Graham had given her containing his contact numbers. She had dumbly taken it and nodded as Graham had promised he'd keep her apprised of Riley's condition, and to call him no matter what time if she needed to talk.

"Long day, sweetie?

Buffy's eyes widened at the sight of Glory strolling into her home without any hindrance. She then slumped, remembering that they hadn't placed any wards here as Mom and Dawn were not in Sunnydale.

"So this is where the Slayer eats, sleeps, and ...combs her hair?" Glory trailed her finger over the desk as if checking for dust.

"Oh..." she picked up the same photo that Buffy had been staring at seconds ago.

"So cute!" She tossed the photo frame aside casually, not even flinching when the glass shattered. "I can't even stand it." She turned to look at the fireplace. Buffy slowly uncoiled and reached for a stake she had tucked in her waistband

"Personally? I need more space, but uh, this is good for you, it's, it's so quaint, and..." Glory flashed around and appeared behind Buffy plucking the stake out of the Slayer's hand.

"If I wanted to fight, you could tell by the being dead already." Glory flopped into an armchair and fiddled with the stake she had confiscated. "So play nice, little girl.

Buffy's hands clenched into small fists, "What do you want?"

"The key. Why else do you think I'd come here? See," Glory pointed the stake at Buffy. “I think you know where it is. And that's a good thing.”

"I'm glad you think so," Buffy dryly replied.

"Well, it's the only thing keeping you alive right now. Because you may be tiny queen in vampire world... but to me, you're a bug. You should get down on your knees and worship me!"

"Bollocks to that. She's a goddess in the vampire world, you ratty haired bint." Spike leaned against the arch leading into the front room. His calm demeanour belied the frantic rush he had been in prior to entering the Summers’ house. Halfway to Revello Drive he had picked up Glory's scent following Buffy's and had thrown caution to the wind and raced here.

For a brief second, Glory's imperious expression slipped and her hands shot to her hair, a pout trembling on her lips.

Visions of Buffy being beaten to a pulp again by the Hell god filled his terrified mind and he fell into protect mode. "Stay away from her you bint, or I'll make you bleed and beg for death," he threatened, ignoring Buffy's shushing motions..

"Aww it's the boy toy with a waaaay over inflated opinion of himself." Glory flipped her hair and turned back to Buffy. "You better warn your little friend who mashed me against the wall that Dracula is not happy with her!"

“Huh?” A small frown marred Buffy’s forehead, she turned to Spike wondering what the hell had happened earlier. But before Spike could explain himself Glory spoke.

"Where's my key, Slayer?" Glory demanded, dismissing Spike's presence with a wave of her manicured hand as she focused instead on Buffy.

Buffy shook her head, "No idea."

"Sod off why don't you?" Spike added for good measure. He watched as Buffy moved slowly closer and closer to him, his muscles tensed ready to fight or flee - whichever she decided.

"Ooh, I like him. He's sassy." Glory paused for a moment and then a look of malice crossed her face. "He was so nearly mine earlier, if it hadn't been for that bitch driving me into a wall!"

"And I'll kill him. I'll kill your mom, I'll kill your friends ... and I'll make you watch when I do," she sighed dramatically. "Just give me the key. You either have it or you know where to find it."

She stood up and tossed the stake causally at Buffy, who caught it reflexively.

"Obviously, this is a one-time-only deal. Next time we meet, something you love dies bloody. You know you can't take me. You know you can't stop me."

With that, Glory brushed past them and headed off into the night.

"I'll give Drac your love, shall I?" Her words echoed mockingly behind her as she disappeared.

***********

"Fucking hell!" Spike slammed the door shut, knowing it was a purely symbolic action, but he needed to do something before he flipped out. The fear that had seized him from the moment he had scented the Hellbitch was now in full throttle - there was little either of them could do against Glory and it was emasculating the hell out of him.

As per usual.

Buffy reached over and gently brushed the glass off the photo of her, Dawn and their mother. The shards of fine glass, nicking her fingertips and small beads of blood seeped out of the cuts. She pulled away from the photo and licked her fingers, sealing the cuts.

"She nearly had you? Spike what have you been up to?" Her voice was deceptively calm; so relaxed was her body that Spike froze and waited for the meltdown. He was an adept at reading women and the blond vampire knew hell was about to be unleashed on him in the form of his very pissed off girl.

'I'm well and truly screwed here no matter what I say.' Spike pasted on his best ‘please forgive me for placing myself in mortal danger’ look on his face and slowly batted his lashes at his fuming girl. "She didn't hurt you did she, love?" Spike waited with baited breath.

Buffy shook her head, "Nope, she didn't hurt me. What about you and the others? I thought it was strictly recon?" She folded her arms under her breasts and tapped the toe of one of her well-shod feet impatiently.

Spike sheepishly shuffled his feet, secretly gladdened by her possessive nature and worry of his well being - even though they were together and had declared themselves to each other, he was still unsure. His demon kept tickling around his conscious, prodding and pushing for him to claim his childe. So far, Spike had suppressed the natural urge; he wasn't sure if Buffy was ready for the final step. He knew he was, but was she?

"Well?" Buffy growled, not buying the cute behaviour. After seeing the state Riley had been in because of her involving him in her supernatural world and making him feel inadequate, she was dammed if she was going to let Spike play chicken with death. She was determined not to let anyone else get hurt because of her, and she knew Spike had only been out searching for Dracula because he wanted to help her.

"Wasn't me! It was Anya! She crushed the lopsided arse against Drac's place and she dusted one of Dracula's birds with that nifty little crossbow, you know?"

"Yeah, the one she found on Ebay," Buffy interrupted dismissively. "That still doesn't explain the whole ‘lets taunt the Hell god and scare Buffy into thinking Glory was gonna waste you!’" Buffy eyed Spike possessively. She sauntered over to Spike, a sultry sway to her hips, and then just as he was lulled into a sense of security, her hand whipped out and grabbed hold of his balls through the denim.

"These are mine!" she growled, her fangs dropping and her eyes flashing to lavender.

Spike's eyes rolled back in his head and his jaw dropped, a long moan whispering out of his mouth as Buffy gave Spike Junior a good squeeze and a hearty fondle. Spike knew the look in her eyes; she was hurting and wanted to shag to make it better and there was no way he was going to be her sex toy – well, not on these terms.

He stepped away, "Buffy, luv, not like this. Lets talk." Spike rolled his eyes as the words came out of his mouth. He sounded like a trashy TV psychiatrist talk show host! Spike was dammed if he was going to let her use him as an interactive dildo - something to scratch the itch and make her forget her worries. Not without calling her on it. 'Defending his somewhat dubious virtue from his girl?' he smirked. He wasn't one to say no, but to be used like this by her--by his Slayer-- was not sitting right in his gut.

"What about, the Hell god who just sauntered in here and gave me an ultimatum - tell or I kill everyone you love? Or was it the visit to the hospital you wanted to talk over? How I just froze and stared at the drooling mess that was my ex? And how it's all my bad, cos Riley only went to get bit so he could be darker for me? Oh! Or is because my idiot sire of a boyfriend decided to not be with all the observyness but instead pick a fight with Glory and Dracula and whoever the hell else he could find?” Buffy roared and then whirled and stomped out of the front room and upstairs.

Spike stood stock still, listening to Buffy muttering under her breath about stupid male egos and how they needed to pick a fight with anything that would fight back. He cocked his head as he heard Buffy go into her recently vacated bedroom and slam the door. 'So much for standing up for yourself. Now she's in an even more rotten mood.'

He rocked on his heels and thrust his hands in his duster pockets, his fingers brushing against the box that had lain forgotten there for so long.

Curious, he pulled it out and opened it. A smile brushed across his lips at the contents. He closed it reverently and stashed it back in his pocket. 'Need to make amends with the bint. Not good for the digestion, all this drama.

Spike knew that the Riley issue would have to be addressed - hopefully to Guam, along with the nit who got in his way for too many years. He also knew that he wasn't the only one she was going to have a 'go' at for scrapping with Glory and the Vamps. Giles was going to get it in the neck; a sound erupted out of Spike that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. He knew that with Buffy her anger was just a way of her expressing how worried she was about their safety.

She loved them all. ‘Has a big heart, my girl…’

There was a loud crash from above. Instinct propelled his heavily booted feet up the stairs, her name fading from his lips as he kicked the door open with a snarl.

Buffy span around with an answering growl and vamped out.

Spike scanned the room for intruders and found only a broken lampbase that she had thrown against the wall in a fit of pique.

He was on autopilot, ready to protect his childe, and instead she stood there with a feral look in her eyes and growled challengingly. The atmosphere in the small room was charged with anger, possessiveness and a sultry undertone of sexual arousal. One that was vibrating off Buffy in waves of intoxicating scents that called to his demon. All control lost, Spike vamped out and growled warningly at the minx who was standing her ground against him.

Buffy flashed her fangs at Spike and with salacious flicks of her tongue, she toyed with her fangs, purposely slicing it and letting the crimson drops of blood scent the air. She purred coyly at him and fluttered her lashes, her slim hands making short work of her shirt. Naked from the waist up, she swayed towards him.

Spike whimpered. He was fighting a losing battle; he knew he shouldn't succumb, but the siren in front of him had other ideas. He was supposed to be stopping her from using him for sex to forget her worries. But when she toyed with her nipples like that, who could deny her? His cock lurched in his jeans and hardened at the sight of one of her hands sliding down the front of her slacks.

Spike's hands clenched into fists, the mantra of ‘be strong’ stuck on repeat in his mind. He tried desperately to resist reaching out for her and ripping off the rest of her clothes. His moral high ground was rapidly vanishing as the first button of her slacks was popped open with one manicured fingernail. His cock twitched in anticipation and his nipples tightened.

Buffy looked up through her lashes and with her free hand pulled the tie from her hair and shook her head. Her long hair settled on her shoulders and tickled the tops of her grapefruit sized breasts. Taking in the mesmerised look on her sire's face, a throaty chuckled erupted from her.

Spike's amber eyes were riveted to her bobbling breasts and the perky nipples that were calling to him. His mouth watered and his brain shut down. Instead, all he could hear was the new mantra of 'get the girl', over and over.

Buffy shimmied out of her slacks and stood clad only in a thong, which she toyed with as she licked her lips. Smearing blood over them, their cherry redness calling to Spike. His tongue flickered across his dry lips as he slowly began to relax his hands; they hung loosely at his sides. 'Two can play this game, if she's so determined for a shag, least I can do is make it a good un.'

With a rasping snarl, Spike shrugged out of his duster, which pooled at his feet. He yanked off his T-shirt and with a smirk that revealed his fangs he ran a hand over his defined pecs, and looped his thumb in his waistband. Fanning his fingers over his erect cock, he casually drummed the tight denim. Each little tap of his fingers sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine.

Turning and walking towards the window, Spike ignored the purr of enticement from the little tease. He pulled the curtains open and scanned the street, checking that the coast was clear. The moonlight flooded the room; his pale chest was gleaming in the silvery light. Spike rested an arm against the frame and deliberately tensed the muscles in his back, giving Buffy a show.

Buffy took in the pretty view with an appreciative glance and then curled her lip up, 'enough with the playing’. She ripped off her thong and threw it at Spike.

Spike turned and caught her offering deftly with one hand; he raised them up and sniffed them before tucking the frilly scrap of nothing into his jean pocket. He decided to return the favour and within seconds was standing naked, one hand idly pumping his cock as he lazily perused Buffy. He may be ready to play, but he had one more weapon in his arsenal to shift her out of her ‘lets shag like crazed minks to make me feel less guilty’ mood.”

“Love you, pet…”

And with those whispered words the entire atmostsphere of the room changed. Gone was Buffy’s need to screw to make herself feel better. Instead, it was replaced with anticipation.

She drew in a gulping breath. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Spike nodded and smiled around his fangs.

She raised a shaking hand towards him, beckoning him to her arms and her willing body.

Spike slinked over to his trembling girl and pulled her into his arms. Buffy’s hands curled around his shoulders as she sank into his arms – drawing strength from his embrace.

Their lips met and they devoured each other’s mouths, heedless of their fangs as they tore into each other.

Blood dripped between them from their cut lips coating their necks. Drops of the crimson fluid splattered across Buffy’s breasts. Spike pulled away and watched as the scarlet drops slid downwards. His mouth watered and his demon pushed to the fore. Dipping his head, Spike’s tongue lapped at their combined blood. A purr erupted from Buffy’s lips and they fell backwards onto her childhood bed.

Their bodies twisted and turned on the mattress as they re-visited familiar pleasure points on each other’s bodies – ones that they had learned from their previous carnal games.

Both of them were lost in the rapture of their lovemaking. Their combined purrs and growls painted the silence of the night with their presence.

There was a hint of feralness to their coming together, but underlying it all was a tenderness that balanced it out.

Seconds of bliss turned into minutes as they ravaged each other’s bodies.

A low guttural moan slipped past Buffy’s panting lips as Spike slid into her over sensitised body. Her nails scoured welts along Spike’s sides as her hands grasped at his hips, trying to anchor herself against the storm of euphoria that Spike filled her with as he thrust into her over and over. Her hands scrabbled up and her sharp nails drew blood.

Unable to delay her completion a second longer, she was greedy for everything Spike had to offer, Buffy sank her fangs into Spike’s pale throat and she drank deeply and greedily.

Spike’s hips bucked against hers as he felt her fangs enter his throat and her channel pulsing as she came over and over. Her inner walls captured his cock within her, holding him as a willing prisoner in her welcoming depths.

His sharp fangs pierced her neck and he drank.

Spike’s toes curled as a jolt of electricity shot down his spine and into his balls and he erupted with a muffled howl.

*******

Buffy woke to the sound of Spike involved in a whispered conversation on his phone. She was curled around him, one arm tossed over his stomach and the other bent under her head.

“So you went to some demon place and did what?” Spike hissed quietly.

Buffy kept her eyes shut and focused hard on the faint voice at the other end of the phone. Her vampiric hearing easily picking out Angel’s voice – he sounded tired and in pain. ‘Finally…might be able to find out what Spike’s been so sneaky about.’ She deliberately kept her body lax so as not to clue in her oblivious sire as to her consciousness.

“So you passed and what?” Spike questioned softly, trying not to alert his sleeping girl to the conversation. It was one he had been hoping for, as well as praying to whatever watched over semi-reformed former Big Bads.

“You sacrificed yourself for her? Mustn’t have worked seeing that you and I are having a confab,” he retorted.

“It did? Right…so was another test…you passed?” Spike shifted slightly, his attention piqued. “So Mum’s alright, not sickly anymore?”

Panic filled Buffy and was followed swiftly by a hot rage. An all encompassing one, directed at Spike and Angel for keeping something so vital a secret from her. Her Mom had been sick? A growl erupted from her throat before she could stop it.

Spike’s body froze at the sound.

“Peaches, need to get back to you.” With that he snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the nightstand. “Slayer?” his voice was tentative.

The sound of him addressing her triggered Buffy into moving and with a fluid roll she pulled away from him and sat with her back to him. She rose without speaking and jerkily dressed, her back still facing Spike.

“Luv, talk to me, please.” Spike knelt on the bed and reached for her rigid back.

“Don’t touch me!” she snarled in a hurt-filled voice.

“Please don’t do this, pet – talk to me!” Spike stood and yanked on his discarded jeans and stomped into his boots.

“Don’t do what? Be mad cos you lied to me? Hid something as important as my…mom…as mommy’s health?” her voice trailed off with a sob and Buffy turned slowly to face him.

Anger and rejection emanating from her small frame, her shoulder’s hunched protectively, trying to shield herself from the perceived deception from the one person she had never expected it from. Spike always told her the truth, even before they had become lovers, even when they had been enemies. It may have hurt, but he had always been frank with her.

Spike moved towards her, his hands outstretched to calm her-- to comfort her.

“Don’t.” Her hand raised in a slashing movement.

“We couldn’t tell you,” Spike tried to explain.

“Tell me what exactly?” Buffy asked in an icy voice.

Spike sighed, his fingers twitching towards his pocket. He needed a fag more than ever.

“Tell me! Tell me what you and Angel decided not to tell me – lemme guess, it was for the best, right? Keep Buffy in the dark again, protect her again…” she growled and slipped on her shoes. “You know how old that is getting?”

“No! Don’t, luv. We only knew that something was off with her; she didn’t smell right. Peaches noticed before I did and told me…” Spike tried to explain. He could see he was fighting a losing battle; Buffy was getting crosser by the second.

“So you had a group sniff of my Mom?” she asked sarcastically.

Spike sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair. How had they gone from the sublime to the all out fury that now filled the room?

“Is she okay now?” for a brief moment Buffy let the anger leave her face and her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled as she tried to suppress the tears. She failed and they poured down her face unchecked.

Spike’s entire being ached to comfort her and he stepped towards her, only for Buffy to step backwards away from him-- which wounded him deeply. “She’s as fit as a fiddle now, I swear on my love for you.”

Buffy nodded briefly and then a harsh laugh erupted out of her, “Your love for me? Some love, you big fat liarhead!” she exclaimed brittley

“Oi, enough…none of that!” Spike’s anger peaked abruptly. She had no grounds to doubt his undying love for her – no matter how much she thought he had messed up. He had been trying to spare her any more worries; with Glory and Drac in Sunnyhell, he had been determined to not add to her stress. The blond vampire had been worried that if his childe had known about her Mum, then Buffy might’ve gotten sloppy on patrol or in a fight and been hurt, or even worse, killed. That had been the motivating factor behind his and Angel’s subterfuge.

“Yeah, you’re right it’s enough.” Buffy shouted and turned, disappearing out of her window and into the night.

“Bollocks!” Spike threw his duster on over his naked torso and launched himself out after her. Fear filling him for her safety. In the state of mind she was in now--the exact same one he had been trying to avoid by not telling her about Joyce-- he was worried she’d get hurt or worse, dusted.

*******

Buffy easily outstripped Spike as she ran down the empty streets of Sunnydale. She ran with no mind to where she was going. Only wanting to out run the deception Spike had been a party to.

He had done the one thing she had never expected him to do.

He had lied to her – okay, a lie by omission, but still it was a great big honking fib.

Tears still ran down her cheeks, drying in the wind as she ran at super human speeds.
Her feet pounded out an unrelenting rhythm as Buffy tried to get away from it all. Only to be stopped by a tree root, tripping her. and Stumbling, Buffy managed to stay upright.

“I’ve been waiting for you…” A chillingly familiar voice echoed out of the darkness. One she had not wanted to hear ever again.
 

Chapter 27:

Spike ran, his heavily booted feet thudding against the sidewalk. He extended his senses; searching for Buffy again. Twice in one evening he had been filled with panic, chasing around after her on the streets of Sunnydale. His duster whirled behind him, it's inky blackness gleaming under the streetlights. Spike's bare chest on display for anyone to appreciate; his sharply defined stomach muscles flexed as he panted unnecessarily.

Mentally he railed at himself for being a secretive git-- he should haven been up front with Buffy from the moment he had scented Joyce. He still didn't understand why he had been all cloak and dagger. Usually he was in your face and not couching the truth with pretty words. But this was Buffy, his Slayer and love of his unlife, and the need to protect his childe was instinctive.

Spike grimaced at the memory of the embrace with Joyce and the first inhalation of the scent-- and all the secrets it carried with it. The odour of incipient decay still lingered in his nostrils and coated the back of his throat with its sweet cloying taste. It sickened him - filled him with terror and sorrow. He hated Joyce for reminding him that mortals were fragile beings, that they were helpless in the face of some diseases and even more powerless in the face of death.

The ever-present spectre in a mortal's life. But this mortal was Buffy's Mum.

That was why Angel had fought against the odds to save her - to eek out a few more years for Joyce on this mortal coil. All for one person, the pain in the arse childe that he was chasing after with his dead heart in this throat.

He tried to ignore the spasms of hurt that were thudding through his body; her fury at what they had done made him ache and not in a good way. All they had been doing was trying to protect her from more stress-- he and Angel. Because he loved her, and so did Angel. Spike mentally retched at the fact he had acknowledged the enormous Poofter's love for Buffy. He would have to scrub out his mind with some marathon sessions of shagging Buffy to recover – well, if she let him near her divine bod ever again, Spike ruefully amended.

Until he had come to Sunnydale, his only concern for humans and their limited life spans was how long they'd last once he got his fangs into them. Extend their life by sipping at their fear tainted blood so as to prolong his pleasure. Until Buffy and her coterie of friends and family, humans had never been anything but food.

Since he had been turned, he had never worried about a mortal's health. Well, except for the one time. Spike's mind shied away from the taboo subject of his mother. Even now over a century later her cruel, disgusting and mocking words filled his mind with horror. That monster had not been his gentle sweet mum - but at the end, when he finally staked her, the look in her eyes had been so familiar that every now and then, when he allowed himself to think about it, Spike was filled with terror. Had that been his mum? Or the demon that had tried to shag him? And if it had been his mum - then god help her.

Something tweaked at the edges of his senses – thankfully, pulling his mind away from the memories of his Mum and her attempt to seduce him.

It was Buffy.

Someone was with her - someone she really didn't want to be anywhere near. Spike's feet carried him on in the direction of his girl.

*******

"I have been wondering when we would meet again. I sensed your much anticipated return to the Hellmouth - that evening was enlightening viewing," he added snidely.

Buffy blinked. He had been perving over her and Spike? A sickness blossomed in the pit of her stomach that the Master vampire infront of her had been witness to their lovemaking.

The calm tenor of his voice belied the jealousy and anger he felt towards both the Aurelian vampires for their intimate and loving relationship - one he had witnessed first hand. One he had watched with obsessive intensity, envy filling his entire undead being; he had never experienced what Spike and Buffy had. He had berated himself over and over for giving his prize up so quickly. The love, the depth of emotional connection and the joy they took in each other. Instead, he experienced only fleeting moments of pleasure at the hands of his victims - only achieved through his thralling of them. Only his Brides offered themselves willingly - and now he was left with only
one.

Buffy stood on the balls of her feet ready, to attack or flee? It depended on what the evil being in front of her did. Fear and anger fought for a place in her heart as her mind ticked over the potential escape routes - she wasn't strong enough to fight him. Not now, not after discovering the duplicity of her sire and great-grandsire. And Buffy hated herself for the weakness; she had hoped that the first time she came across the vampire would be his last. But now she was unsure of herself, her emotions getting the better of her fighting ability and mental control.

"Nothing to say to me, pretty one?" Dracula teased. He cut a striking figure as he stood on top of a crumbling mausoleum, his dark clothes adding to the mystic that he worked so hard to promote. His long silky cloak swung in the evening breeze; he had chosen his spot well. Behind him was a full moon - a silver disc that he stood in the centre of --heightening his dramatic impact. It was one that failed to impress Buffy. Maybe at first there has been a mini ‘eeeeh, it's Dracula’, but now, after everything he had done to her, nothing would make her even the vaguest bit interested.

Buffy dragged in an unnecessary deep breath. She vamped out and stared cautiously at the instrument of her turning. She felt nothing for him at all - no connection. Not anymore. Not since Spike had saved her. She could feel a deep connection to Spike and a familial one to Angel; Buffy wondered if she would feel like that with other vamps that were scions of the House of Aurelius.

'Focus on the drama Queen posing on the crypt, and not on whether or not Aunty Dru will be happy to see you!' Buffy's mouth made a small moue of disgust at the thought of Dru being happy to see her - she imagined that the nutty vampire would probably do something weird like make her have a tea party with Miss Edith or something lame like that. Well, after the catfight she would try and have with her for taking Spike from her.

As if! It had been mutual takage.

"Ahhh, such deep thoughts. Really, you should not worry that pretty head of yours with thoughts." Dracula smiled evilly at Buffy.

"Geez, join the 21st Century, why don't you?" Buffy’s strong voice covering up the massive attack of nerves she was in the throes of. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Dracula's naked body moving over hers - his hand touching her breasts and sliding down her stomach and between her thighs, pushing them apart. Revealing her intimate secrets to his jaded and knowing gaze. She wanted to puke - fall down and start crying. But there was no way she would let herself… not in front of him. Instead, she jutted her chin out stubbornly and growled faintly.

Dracula's face darkened at her overt challenge. "Stop that, Childe," he ordered. He jumped down and landed smoothly in front of Buffy. His proximity started to make her even more uncomfortable and he smiled cruelly at the scent of fear, that flooded the night around her.

Buffy took a mini step back, trying to reclaim her personal space and damning herself for needing too, knowing she had broadcast her weakness to the Master vampire. She growled again, just to show him that his orders meant nothing to her. She was not his Childe anymore, and never would be again. His mind tricks would have no effect on her either, thanks to Kendra's whammy.

"You know something?" Dracula purred as he drank in the luscious sight of her body and the scents of terror that filled the night air. He tried to ignore the combined spending of her and the mongrel Spike.

Buffy worried her lower lip with a fang and cocked her head.

"You owe me." Dracula's thickly accented voice floated towards her, filling her with dread.

"I don't own you bupkus," she retorted, her voice squeaking with nerves.

"Anasztaizia never returned from the hunt the other night…do you... have any idea where she is?" Dracula asked in a mocking tone. All too aware that the small vampiress in front of him had something to do with his missing Bride - he had spies all over the town.

Buffy nearly bit through her lip, her mind flashing back to the rooftop and her torture of the vampiress he was referring too. She shook her head, panic beginning to claw at her mind, her body tensed as her eyes darted from side to side searching for a way to escape. She wasn't ready for this confrontation - she doubted she ever would be.

"And then tonight. My beloved Ktisztina was torn from my loving embrace by that bitch Anyanka. I believe she is one of yours?" Dracula bared his fangs at Buffy.

The sight of the instruments of her death terrified her - she hated herself for showing the fear so openly, but it was all too much and her false bravado disappeared. It was all too much. Her mom. Spike, Angel, and now confronting Dracula for the first time - alone without Spike to back her up. It was all too much. Buffy backed away until she tripped over a gravestone and fell backwards, her hands scrabbling in the grass for purchase as she edge away from the tall vampire standing over her, condemnation and ire in his eyes.

Almost hyperventilating in her terror, Buffy slid back on her butt, her feet kicking as she move away . 'Oh god! Please, please go away. I can't deal with this right now. Not on top of Spike and Angel and their whole ‘lets keep Buffy in the dark.’' She hated herself for being such a baby; she was the Slayer and here she was scrabbling away from a vamp that, in all honesty, should have been dust by now.

"And to think Anyanka and I once shared a bed." Dracula shook his head in mock disappointment. Then he looked over at the terrified vampiress at his feet and malice filled his eyes. "Not that she will ever have that honour again - she took...no...killed Ktisztina - something that was mine to decide whether or not lived or died. Not some paltry ex-vengeance demon who appears, as rumour has it, to have appalling taste in men."

Buffy rolled onto her knees and tried to stand, only to be stopped by Dracula's foot as he stomped down on the small of her back. A delighted smile split his pale lips. He revelled in her fear; to see a Slayer crawling away from him was pure joy.

A grunt escaped her lips as she was pressed down to the grass, the blades tickling her face. Pushing her head up, Buffy gazed helplessly around the cemetery. She was pinned like a butterfly, her legs and arms flaying around.

"Be still," he ordered. Again, confused that his thrall or magical influences had no affect on his soon to be bride. No matter, he would find a way around that obstacle. But for the moment, his demon enjoyed the terror emanating from her.

"Stop it," Buffy whispered, her panic making her forget she was stronger than Dracula and could easily escape him if she wanted. Instead of the warrioress wanting to shed blood and scatter dust, Buffy felt like a scared violated girl being tormented by her attacker-- much like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

Dracula laughed, "Never."

Buffy wriggled again, her nails clawing at the soil below her.

"You are beginning to bore me - and we have so much to discuss."

"Yeah well, if it's all so yawnsome, why not let me up and I'll get going?" Buffy bluffed, the tremor in her voice belying her bravado.

"Hardly." Dracula pushed down with his all his weight. His booted foot held her still. "Where was I? Oh, that's right, Anyaka - she's not a problem. I will kill her and avenge my Brides death." Dracula shrugged dismissively.

"NO!" Buffy slid her hands along the grass and pushed up, the casual threat against Anya giving her a modicum of strength; she was not losing another one of her friends. She managed to get some leverage and pushed against the foot that was pinning her down.

"Yes, and you will be making amends for stealing my Anasztaizia from me." Dracula grunted when Buffy managed to dislodge his foot from her back. She slipped out from under it and pulled herself up shakily.

"She deserved to die for what she did to me!" Buffy exclaimed angrily.

Dracula shook his head and lunged forward. He grabbed Buffy by the throat with one hand and let the other run softly over her face. "I may have handed you over to that mongrel William, but now I think it's time you came back to the fold."

Buffy's thin fingers wrapped around his wrist and she struggled against his hold. "Never!" she snarled.

Dracula shook his head and then laughed, "I think I may have given up on you too easily. The fire in you is really quite enjoyable. I shall really take pleasure in breaking your will...again." he added menacingly.

"No," she whispered and twisted her body away from his free hand that now ranged over her breasts in a familiar manner, re-mapping her curves. His long fingers cruelly pinched her soft nipples, futilely trying to get them aroused.

"Yes, you will be my new Bride - it appears that thanks to you and your bitch of a friend I have a need for some fresh meat in my stable." Dracula giggled manically as his hand grasped her throat tighter, holding her in place as his other hand drifted between her legs and grasped her crotch hard, bruising the delicate flesh. "But first, we need to remove the stench of that Aurelian from your body." With that, he heaved Buffy over his shoulder and began to move with a supernatural speed towards the contemplating pool that was at the centre of the cemetery.

Buffy twisted and turned in his grasp, her fists beating a rapid tattoo on his back. Before she could gather her strength and get free, she was sailing through the air. Landing face down with a splash in the shallow pool, she inadvertently inhaled a lungful of water. Memories of the Master and her first death filled her mind and Buffy’s fear dissolved into a cold fury. Silt filled her mouth. Buffy shot upwards with a roar of anger; her body broke the surface of the water and she threw her soaked hair back and leapt to her feet.

She was done playing the victim. Sure, Dracula terrified her, but enough was enough. Spinning awkwardly, she turned to face her tormentor.

But he was gone.

********

There was a knock at his door. "Angel?" Joyce's voice was filled with concern. She pushed open the door to his suite and tentatively popped her head through the gap.

Angel levered himself up onto his elbows and nodded for her to come in. His mobile phone sat where it had been dropped; he had been waiting with mounting worry for Spike to call him back. It had been nearly half an hour and he was trying to work out a way to drag his aching body down to the car and drive to Sunnydale.

Joyce stepped into the room, carrying a tray of supplies. "Is it okay if I come in?"

The dark haired vampire nodded, awkwardness filling him - he still had no idea how to talk to Buffy's Mom. The few times they had conversed since she and Dawn had come with him to LA there had been a level of discomfort that had been overwhelming for the normally reticent vampire. He usually left the chatting to Cordy who was best suited to dealing with people. He found it much easier to be in the background watching people-- and not brooding like the others teased him!

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Joyce asked softly. She hesitantly approached the bed, eyeing his bruised and burned body. Despite her innate dislike for the defiler of her daughter's innocence, Joyce did feel badly for Angel. He was in pain because of her; she was still in shock about the revelations about her health. She was still in denial - a tumour? ‘No way’, to quote her daughters.

But the trials, and then her subsequent healing - all underscored how close she had come to leaving her baby girls alone in the world. Joyce knew she owed Angel her life and as much as that stuck in her throat, she would rise above it and be nice to him. At least now Buffy was with Spike.

Angel stared at Joyce quizzically. "Umm, I'll be okay I just need some bloo..." a mug was thrust under his nose.

"Here, drink this. Spike showed me how to heat it to the right temperature, and I have more." She gestured to the thermos on the tray.

Angel hesitated, unwilling to drink in front of her.

Joyce gave him her patented Mom look and arched a blonde brow at him.

Angel blinked and with a tentative grin sipped from the mug, surprise blossoming over his face - the flavour was amazing. He gulped it greedily down. Licking his lips, he looked at the thermos and then up at Joyce. "Can I? What's in it?"

Joyce uncapped the silver thermos and handed it to Angel with a faint smile. "Here. Drink it all, it'll help with the healing." She looked down and busied herself gathering the bandages and burn ointments. "It's Sambal Olek, a Thai spice. Spike said it gives the blood some kick." Joyce omitted adding that she had also laced the blood with a healing balm that the green horned guy Lorne had dropped off, knowing that Angel would probably moan like a kid over taking his medicine. Men! No matter if they were alive or undead they were born complainers - they hated being sick or hurt and turned into big babies.

"It's good." Angel drank eagerly from the thermos. He could feel his body recovering with each sip and he wondered what else was in the blood, but decided not to push his luck. Mrs Summers was being nice to him and he enjoyed the novelty. He glanced in the direction of the door, hoping not to spot Dawn. He had no idea how to handle her; she was too much like Spike and it irked him endlessly.

"Oh! Hey!" Angel gasped as Joyce pulled the sheets away from his burned feet and deftly began to apply the burn ointment and then wrapping them in soft bandages—her face not giving away the shock and guilt at the sight of the cross shaped burns and blisters on them.

"Angel, let me do this for you." Joyce pulled him up and put some pillows behind him. Angel was the alpha male here in the agency and was unwilling to show weakness to his associates, so she had waited until it was late in the night and then come to help him out. She owed him.

"Thank you." Angel tentatively smiled at the woman and allowed her to dress the wounds on his chest and back, all the while sipping at the warm blood she had brought him. Unbeknownst to either of them, they had an observer who silently fumed at her interrupted mind games.

***********

Buffy shook the water from her ears.

There was an enormous roar that broke the peace of the cemetery; she recognised it.

It was Spike.

He was in ‘must kill now’ mode.

She slipped and fell, falling face forward into the shallow water again. The sensation of the water seeping into her lungs made her freak. It was all too familiar - the Master drowning her all those years ago had a left a mark. She leapt from the water gagging. Buffy puked up the water and took a deep breath, unneeded but it helped in calming her down. Silt covered her face; she scrubbed at it with her hands, wiping it as clean as best she could.

In the distance she could hear the sounds of battle. Buffy's feet carried her towards the noise, worried now for Spike.

**********

Dawn peeked through the gap of her door and her jaw dropped.

'Oh my god! It's her...but she's supposed to be dead?'

Dawn clicked the door shut and leant against it. Her hand pressing against her heart; she was positive it was going to beat itself out of her chest.
She had only seen Darla once years ago, and that voice she'd never forget. She needed to get to her Mom - but she was in Angel's room looking after him.

The teen slid down the door and rested her head on her knees. She was still in shock from the revelations that had occurred earlier when her mom and Angel had returned from their walk. She could still feel her mom's arms around her, clutching at her and rocking them both back and forth as she explained how Angel had saved her life.

After that Lorne guy had read her, he had been able to tell that there was a tumour in her Mom's brain and Angel had fought for her life-- and saved her. Spike was gonna freak out when he heard that the Poof had saved Joyce. Dawn's eyes filled with tears of relief - she had nearly lost her mommy. Angel had saved her...no them. All of them. If Joyce had died, then the Summers family would've fallen to pieces.

Dawn dashed the tears from her face; a look of determination filled it. She grabbed the lamp base from the table next to her, her face set in an uncompromising line-- one that was startlingly similar to how her older sister looked when confronted with a demon. Sniffling loudly she stood, and bracing herself she swung the door open and charged out into the corridor, ready to kick some vapid blonde's undead ass.

There was a sense of anticlimax - the corridor was empty. Dawn sighed with relief and ran as fast as she could for Angel's suite and kicked the door open.

"Eww, that's gotta hurt!" Dawn stared in shock at the burnt mess of Angel's foot. She dropped her makeshift weapon and it bounced forgotten on the carpet, her eyes glued to the blister mess of the souls of Angel's feet.

"Dawn, why aren't you in bed?" Joyce stared over her shoulder at her youngest daughter.

Angel scrabbled to cover his chest with the sheet. He had no idea how cope with Dawn, and lounging on a bed with no shirt on was not the way to go. Even he realised that.

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to one side. "So Angel, care to share with us?"

"Huh?" The brunette vampire's large brow furrowed in confusion. She really confounded him sometimes.

"Dawn." Joyce's voice held a hint of reprimand in it.

"How come your undead skank of a sire is hanging around the hotel? Buffy told me you dusted her?" Dawn shot out with a look of curiosity on her face.

"What? No...Darla's dead, I dusted her myself," Angel stuttered. Suddenly everything clicked into focus, the dreams he had been having, and the sticky not so fresh feelings he'd had in the mornings when he woke up.

"OH!" he sat up in shock.

"Darla's alive? It's all real? I thought I was dreaming...Darla was here in my room - in my bed." Angel trailed off sheepishly, embarrassed beyond his wildest dreams about what he had had just revealed to Joyce and Dawn.

"Yucksville!" Dawn grimaced at the mental thought of Angel having sex with Darla; she still pretended that Buffy had never let him touch her. Cos ewwww.

********

Buffy skidded to a halt at the sight of Dracula and Spike fighting. She tripped over something on the grass and landed with a jarring thud on black leather. Her cold fingers scrabbled at the duster that Spike had disguarded at some point. Grabbing hold of the soft leather she pulled it out from under her and slipped it on, drawing comfort from the worn leather and the heady scents of her sire as the coat enveloped her. Inhaling his familiar scent and getting a snugly feeling from it, helping her to ground herself, all thoughts of her anger towards the peroxide menace were eased - until she could get him on his own and kick his ass.

"Sodding ninny!" Spike roared and launched himself at Dracula, his clawed hand reached for the European vampire's throat. Blood poured from a gash on his cheekbone where Drac had lashed out with his Gucci clad foot moments earlier, sending Spike sailing through the air.

The two master vampires met halfway with a bone crushing thump. They wrestled wildly, each trying to gain ascendancy over the other. Buffy gulped at the sight of the two of them fighting all out fist and fangs in a flurry of blows and bites.

Spike's naked torso gleamed in the waning moonlight, streaked with mud and blood from both his wounds and those of his opponents. She tried to not swoon with girlish glee at the sight of him stripped to the waist and fighting. He looked amazing in the moonlight, his hair in a tumble of pale curls and an unholy look of anger in his eyes. Spike's entire being was focused on decimating his opponent. A stray thought popped into her head and it lightened her heart for a split second.

Buffy stepped forward to help him, only to be stopped by a piercing blue gaze and a brief shake of his head before he head butted Dracula in the nose, shattering it with a satisfying crunch. Blood and small slithers of bone poured from his shattered nose and coated the dark haired vampire's chin.

He howled in pain and his knee jerked up, catching Spike in the hip with a heavy blow.

Spike flinched, glad he'd twisted his hips at the last moment. He gritted his teeth, unwillingly to allow Dracula the upper hand. Instead, he vamped out and bit down hard on his opponent’s shoulder and shook his head like a dog, tearing through cloth, skin, muscles and tendons. He pulled back and in the ultimate vampiric put down, spat out Dracula's blood.

Spike danced on the balls of his feet, his blood-smeared face split with a manic grin. He spun and kicked out at his opponent, catching him in the chin and sending him flying. He had been waiting for this moment from the second he had seen Buffy hanging limply in the bastard's sweaty paws. He and his demon were in complete agreement about this fight; make the bastard hurt and then rip his head off.

Buffy bit her lower lip, wanting to call out to him but instinctively knowing she couldn't distract him - this was his fight. For now.

"You touched her again, against her will!" Spike growled, surreptitiously pressing a fist against his hip. The pain that shot up from the injury fine-tuned his concentration onto the fight, but Spike was positive something was broken there. Every time he moved there was a sickening grinding sensation; that was sickening to experience - but if it helped him stay in the game then so be it.

"She owes me!" Dracula rolled over onto his back and then flipped up onto his feet. "She killed my Bride and I want her to fill the void in my bed and clan."

"Owes you bollocks, and as for hopping into your bed - never happening!" Spike retorted and lunged at the slim vampire. Fists ready and fangs just itching for another taste of his opponent.

"You stole her life from her - her innocence!" Spike began to pound the smirking face of his enemy. Each bone jarring thump filled him with satisfaction; he imagined each injury on the prat's body was a small step in revenge for Buffy. It had been a long time coming but he had been aching for this confrontation with the Tranny bastard. "Why would you think that the Slayer would even consider letting you touch her after the hell you and your slags put her through?" Spike punctuated his question with a one-two punch to Dracula's throat.

There was a sickening crunch as the damage was done to his throat, muscles tore and there was a crunching sound of carteledge giving away under the blows. Dracula's hand shot up to his throat and clutched at it, trying to ease the pain. Never before had he been at such a disadvantage in a fight. Each time he had summoned a spell to cast on his opponent it had vanished into the ether, much like his attempts on his prize, the turned Slayer. The vampire was confused, never before had this happened to him and for the first time in decades, he was worried about losing a fight.

Spike span and kicked him in the stomach, he twisted around and landed on the balls of his feet, fists clenched ready for the next blow.

Dracula reeled backwards and raised his arms defensively. He was starting to panic - never before had he entered into a fight he didn't know he would win. But there was something wild and untamed in Spike's fighting; a sense of his moral rightness for being in this confrontation was fuelling the blond vampire's strength to such levels that it was starting to terrify Dracula.

Spike bobbed forward--much like a prize-fighter-- and began to rain down blows on any part of Dracula's body that presented itself. The nonce deserved a good kicking.

The longhaired vampire struck out wildly, trying to slow down the heavy blows. His face was already shattered and the darkness of unconsciousness was starting to pull at his senses. Realising that brute force or magical influences were not helping him in this battle, Dracula resorted to taunting his opponent and Buffy.

"She was hardly an innocent. Your own grandsire has drunk from her neck and assisted her in losing her innocence. I only added to her experience; she welcomed my touch!" he taunted, hoping that bringing up Angel would wrong-foot his opponent. In the past, the enmity between the two familial vampires had been legendary, and usually over a woman - though he had never understood the appeal of the mad one. Once it had been the insane Drusilla, but now it was the prize he wanted to reclaim.

Buffy's last vestiges of fear vanished at the last insults that had poured from Dracula's split lips. She vamped out and growled loudly; her challenge was heard by both males, but ignored as they were fighting to the death. Neither one wanting to risk a break in concentration, any slip and they'd lose.

"Nice try, mate." Spike slapped Dracula round the back of the head in an insulting way - more like a father cuffing a son around the head for some misdemeanour. "Bringing up Peaches might've worked a while back, but not now." He hefted Dracula and threw him against a mausoleum, smirking at the sound of Dracula's bones breaking. Revenge was sweet.

Spike bounced on the balls of his feet and then cracked his neck. "Now? Nothing! Must say it's kind of liberating, no Granddaddy issues - but m'sure that'll change once he starts brooding over something. But for now, Spike's an uncomplicated puppy...who is starting to get bored...can't you even put up a little bit of a fight?" he whined.

A blur of blonde hair flashed past him and before Spike could utter a bloody hell, an incensed Slayer launched Dracula into the air.

Before he could even hit the ground, Buffy kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying upwards again. "Scumbag! I never welcomed your cold clammy paws on me-- not until you thralled me and even then, ewww."

Spike tucked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and watched as Buffy batted the enormous git up and down the cemetery like a whiffle ball. "Nice moves, luv." He loved to watch her fight, her body moving in smooth seamless motions. Despite the gravity of the situation, and who they were confronting, Spike still took time to admire his Slayer.

"Can it, Spike. Still mad as hell with you!" Buffy grumbled as she punted the nearly unconscious vampire into a tree. The satisfaction she garnered from pulverising the asshole was overwhelmingly good. She was even angrier with herself for freezing up earlier and letting the scumbag touch her.

"Love you though, sweets." Spike rocked on his heels and watched as his girl's small foot kicked loose what looked suspiciously like a fang. He ran his tongue over his own and smirked at Dracula who was laid out on the grass, bleeding from his nose, mouth and ears. This was gonna be good and well deserved - he had hated feeling her terror when he had been running to the cemetery - that was not how his girl was built. The fear that had flooded her being had fuelled his attack on Dracula. He was determined to defend her, to avenge her - to buy time for her to regain her equilibrium and re-join the fight. 'And didn't she look fancy in my coat,' Spike noted with an admiring gleam to his eyes.

"Humph." Buffy rolled her eyes at him, "sweet talking me is not helping, Spike. Still mad at you for being all secretive guy." She reached into her waistband and pulled out Mr Pointy. Raising her arm she took a deep breath. This was the moment she had been waiting for since she had woken in Spike's bed in the cabin, confused and disoriented by her location and her newly undead status.

Her face was a study of determination and a calm filled her. Without a quip tumbling from her lips, Buffy gripped her stake firmly and swung her arm downwards. Justice would be done, and removing the poseur from the planet was an added bonus, she added irreverently to herself.

"NO!" Dracula bellowed and summoned his last vestiges of strength and turned into a bat and flew off into the sky. Buffy fell forward, the momentum from her swinging the stake unbalancing her, and the sensation of the bat body under her hand before Drac had managed to wriggle loose and flutter away disoriented her.

"Pansy arsed coward," Spike bellowed as he chased futilely after the badly injured and erratically fluttering bat. Limping slightly, he continued a litany of insults, which would have made a longshoreman blush and reach for the soap to wash the vampire's mouth out with.

Buffy yelled angrily, annoyed that she had lost her kill. She clamoured to her feet and took off after the two vampires. Pissed off that her slay had been thwarted.
 

Chapter 28:

It hurts," he whined as the woman's soft hands fluttered over his beaten body. His tongue ran across the back of his teeth and paused briefly at the gap where his fang had been. He knew in time it would grow back, but his vanity was starting to surge to the fore. Dracula knew he couldn't show his face anywhere soon; the sight of a Master Vampire of his notoriety, with a missing fang, would be too humiliating.

The surviving Bride grimaced at the sound of her Master's ribs grinding together as she bound them tightly. When he had appeared in her window—fluttering weakly into the room and falling at her feet—she had started to scream for her sisters. Stopping only when she remembered there was no one else, only her.

"Who did this to you, Master?" Marushka whispered as she carefully tied the ends of the soft bandages off. Reaching over to the silver bowl filled with water, the shaking vampiress picked up the sponge and squeezed it out and methodically began to clean the drying blood and dirt of Dracula's face.

"No matter who it was my Childe," Dracula hissed as the pain shot through him when she cleaned out the bite wound on his shoulder. There was no way he would ever admit to his Bride who had beaten him so badly; the humiliation was too much as it was.

Marushka's grey eyes widened slightly when she caught the scent of her Master's opponents-- her little sister and the Aurelian, Spike. Wisely she kept her silence and continued to tend her poor darling. She resisted offering to lick his wounds shut, acutely aware that Dracula would not allow her to taste the combined blood on his body of the two vampires that had fought and wounded him so badly.

~~~~~~~~

It was dark, warm and comforting. He was fed and kept comfortable. There was nothing here in his new home to remind him of what he had done.

He was safe. They didn't judge him; only tried to help him.

It was weird seeing her again. She had died a few years ago and yet, here she was. Talking him back from the brink of madness that he had allowed himself to be lead into.

Shame filled him again; he was a sick, dirty boy, just like his father and mother had told him. A weak mistake who wouldn't amount to anything. He thought he’d proved them wrong himself when he had helped her fight the things that went bump in the night. But he had been a idiot and his parents had been right all along.

Nothing would save him. He turned onto his side and curled up into a tight ball and wept.

~~~~~~~~~

"Hold up pet, he's long gone." Spike reached out and hauled Buffy back against him. His arms automatically wrapped around her wriggling body and without any conscious thought behind it, he dropped a soothing kiss to her temple.

"Dammit Spike, lemme go. He's getting away," Buffy whined as she tried to pry his arms off her.

"Not happening, Slayer." Spike gritted his teeth when her sharp little elbow made contact with his ribs. The scratches left by Dracula's claws were reopened by the jostling and blood seeped sluggishly down his side. He wavered on his feet, fatigue clawing at him-- the night's events finally catching up with the bleach blond vampire. All he wanted to do now was get home before the sun rose, to tend to both of their wounds. His hackles were rising at the incipient arrival of the dawn, his vampiric nature urging him to get undercover and wait out the day.

Buffy froze mid squirm at the scent of Spike's blood hitting her nostrils. She slithered around to face him, all her anger over his not telling her about her mom vaporised in an instant. He was hurt. Must help him, filled her mind.

"You're bleeding." She gazed up at him, her green eyes luminous. A tear trembled on her thick lower lashes, threatening to drop onto her cheek and paint a trail through the encrusted grime.

A smile threatened at the corners of Spike's split lips. "Yeah, sumthin’ that happens when you get into a good brawl." His fingers slid around her small waist and held her gently.

Buffy snorted at his bravado, still in two minds whether to kick his ass. But the scent of his blood filled her with worry, and now face-to-face with him for the first time since chasing after Dracubat, she could see the extent of his war wounds. He was battered and bruised, but still unbowed and hers.

Spike glanced over his shoulder, the tingles alerting him that sunrise was imminent. "Com'on, we need to get home." He tugged her against him and pressed a hesitant kiss to her lips, still unsure if he was in the dog house.

Buffy nodded and allowed him to pull her along the deserted streets, heading for home.

~~~~~~~~~

"What the hell happened to you? You look like raw meat! It’s disgusting; you’re all red and scabby. I hate it; clean yourself up."

Dracula rolled onto his back at the sound of the Hellgod's shrill voice. He had been curled up on his side and drifting in and out of sleep. His body was slowly healing, thanks to the two human cows Marushka had brought up from the dungeons. He had drained them awkwardly. Unable to sink his fang into their necks, Dracula had used his nails to cut their throats. The crimson nectar that had welled from the cuts had called to him and he had latched on, drinking deeply from their throats

Glory paced back and forth at the side of the bed Dracula was lying on. "Get up. We need to discuss my plans." Without a backward glance, she prowled out of the room.

"Sire?" Marushka helped Dracula to sit up, her face screwing up in sympathy at the whimper of pain that escaped his pale lips. "You need to rest. She can wait."

Dracula shook his head. "No. We need to pander to her vanities. I am in too deep." He rose slowly from the bed, his movements measured, as if he were indeed two hundred odd years old. "Help me to dress and bring me another one to eat." He kicked at the two drained bodies that lay on the floor. "Get a minion to remove this refuse."

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike kicked the door shut; they had managed to beat the sunrise with seconds to spare. Buffy flicked the lights and headed for the stairs.

"Blood?"

"Yeah. Gonna need a few packs to sort out this lot," Spike told her as he gestured to the bruises that littered his torso. The reddish purple marks contrasted with his pale skin and stood out in relief. Spike allowed himself to limp now that he was home and out from under the curious eyes of the world. Buggering hell, the bastard got me good. Nearly caught me in the Niagara's.' Spike pressed the heel of his hand into the aching hip joint and eyed the stairs glumly. There was no avoiding it. He had to climb them and it was going to hurt like the blazes.

The only two things sustaining him were pure adrenaline as well as the damage he had inflicted on the poseur. Spike patted his back pocket. The small trophy he had managed to snag before taking off after Buffy and Drac was secure in his jeans.

There was a sickening popping sound that preceded his entrance into the loft. Buffy glanced up from the mug she was holding, ‘eww face’ firmly in place. Spike limped to the sofa and sank down into the cushions with a happy moan.

"Here, drink this. I'll get another one for you." A mug was waved under his nose. Spike took it gratefully and began to gulp it down, his eyes widened momentarily at the taste of her blood. He looked up, his lips stained red with questioning eyes.

"It'll help, Spike. Don't say anything, just drink." Buffy turned back to the kitchen, pulled another bag out of the fridge and threw it into the microwave. With a few jabs of her finger she set the time and the bag began to spin slowly around.

Spike's eyelids lowered at the blissful taste of his girl's blood and he sipped at the remains in the mug slowly, trying to draw out the pleasure he got from tasting her. Buffy shrugged off his duster and carefully draped it over the back of the sofa. Her hand drifted down to ghost over Spike's chest. His calloused hand lashed out and caught hers and squeezed it gently.

"We're okay?" He hated the quaver in his voice, but Spike needed to know.

Buffy eyed him solemnly. She realised that what he had done—he and Angel that is— was try to help her and to lessen her load. She had overreacted; she knew it and felt about twelve years old. Offering a tentative smile to her concerned lover, she nodded. Her simple actions had an immediate effect on Spike. With a sigh, the tension in his lean body dissolved and he melted into the soft cushions.

Spike's inner William appeased, he began to sip again at the blood, his fingers interlacing with Buffy's and a purr beginning to erupt from his throat. He knew that there would be more 'chat' about his and the Poof's actions, but as long as she loved him, Spike knew he could weather anything. The faint words he'd tossed at her and Peaches two years ago echoed through his mind - love's bitch. Spike nodded and smiled. Yeah he was, and proud of it.

The microwave pinged, shattering the peaceful moment between them.

"I'll get that." Buffy scurried off, anxious to help.

"No added extra's this time pet, and maybe get some for yourself. You need it," Spike suggested gently, aware that if he ordered her then the stubborn bint would starve her self to spite him.

Buffy nodded absently and filled a fresh mug and tossed another bag into the microwave, her stomach growling appreciatively at the potential meal.

"Here.” She handed the warmed blood over and drifted past Spike and into their bedroom. Spike cocked his head and listened to her moving around. He could hear the soft fall of her clothes onto the floor as she stripped off; her bare feet padded into the bathroom. Spike took a long drink of the second mug, grimacing at the blandness of the taste. The sound of taps turning and the rush of water made him pause and he rubbed a thumb gingerly along his cheekbone, the edges of the cut still raw and painful.

"Can you get up?" Buffy's soft voice broke through his musings.

Spike cracked his neck from side to side, easing the pressure. "Yeah." For once he managed to stop himself from making a crass remark; he was too tired for verbal badinage. Swinging his feet over the side the tired vampire eased himself up. Before he could reach down and undo his bootlaces, Buffy's naked form was kneeling at his feet, her strong fingers working the laces free and easing the Doc's off his feet.

"Come on." Buffy stood and reached out a hand to help him up.

Spike's eyes were riveted to her gently swaying breasts. He put the mug down on the coffee table and let her pull him to his feet. He smothered a groan when the injured hip cracked loudly as he padded after his girl into the steamy bathroom. Sniffing the air, he noticed that the prevalent scent she had picked out was Teatree oil, thankfully not too emasculating.

He let her undress him, his arms hanging loose at his sides as he watched her naked body move around his. Allowing Buffy to coo over each injury as is it was unveiled. Spike was in two minds over what to do and say. He was still incensed and hurt by her reaction to the Joyce situation and wanted to have a go at her for what she had said and done, but at the same time he wanted to cosset her over Dracula and the first meeting with the smug ponce.

Buffy kept her head down and avoided eye contact. Something in her instinctively told her not to look up at Spike. Maybe it was her demon? She grimaced when her stomach growled again.

“Go eat, Childe.” Spike nudged her to the door, unsure as to whether or not he liked his Slayer so submissive. It didn’t sit well with him; made his fangs twitch for some reason. The tired vampire glanced over at the filled tub with longing. “I’ll get in the tub and soak. Go and eat, pet.” He deliberately omitted his usual luv and walked slowly towards the bath.

Buffy hesitated and then slipped through the door, rushing to the kitchen. She wanted to be back in the bathroom with Spike. They needed to talk and bond

“Gods that feels good…” Spike groaned happily as he sank into the big bath and the heat from the scented water soaked into his aching muscles. He noticed the full bottle of JD set on the side and a pang of guilt filled him for his behaviour.

He leant forward to grab a bar of soap and a lithe body slid into the gap behind him.

“Spike?”

He rested his head on his knees briefly, before lying back on her soft body. Coarse curls at the juncture of her thighs tickled his skin, offering promises of things to come. Buffy wrapped her arms around his chest, carefully avoiding the scratches and bruising that was littered across his pale skin. Spike absently ran his hands up and down her thighs, which lay along his, her scarlet tipped toes massaging his shins.

Buffy rested her chin on Spike’s shoulder and sighed.

“You know I only kept quiet about Mum cos I didn’t want you worrying over her and getting yourself dusted?” he asked quietly.

Buffy sighed again, the movement pressing her hardened nipples against his back. Spike pressed his cheek against hers and reached up to thread his fingers through hers. “You getting naked and pressing your bits and pieces against me isn’t going to work. We need to chat this out, pet.”

“Spike, what do you want me to say? I’m happy about you being all secretive guy? Nope, not gonna happen! Also, not happy with you and Angel all with the vampy whispers and treating me like a mushroom.”

“Do what? Mushroom?” Spike’s eyes shot open as he tried to follow his girl’s strange thought patterns.

“Y’know, keep me in the dark and feed me…”

“Right, got it, and who the ruddy hell told you that one?” Spike interrupted. He tried, and failed to suppress a deep laugh.

“Dawn.” Buffy pinched at the nipples that her hands were covering. Spike purred at her teasing as his cock twitched against stomach in anticipation. “Spike, I over reacted. I’m sorry. I was just scared for Mom.” She was amazed at how easily the words of apology came to her lips. ‘Whoa, where did maturo gal come from?’ Her lower lip jutted out slightly.

“Only did it because I love you, pet,” Spike whispered, secretly amazed at her openly offered contrition. He decided not to push her anymore, knowing that there was still the issue of ‘Dracuponce’ to talk about.

“I can tell you’re pouting without even having to look.” Spike closed his eyes and snuggled back against Buffy, both of them sighing contentedly at the contact and warmth of the other’s body. His hand settled on his erection and idly pumped it for a few strokes, just to keep it happy. His free hand drifted up to rest on her cheek, his fingers soothing her with gentle strokes. He was still waiting for her to bring up Drac, and wondered why she hadn’t.

“Not gonna get it?” she teased hopefully,

Spike’s mind flashed back to that night, the one night he had barely allowed himself to think about that often. Her slender body draped over his as they tried to work out their wedding plans-- and their gentle teasing.

It had been a taste of the bliss that he was rapidly become accustomed to in the last few weeks. In the days after the spell had been lifted, he had never even given the incident a second thought-- not until that dream. The dream that had changed everything for him, setting him on a path that had led him to this moment.

“Spike?” Buffy worried her aforementioned lips in her teeth, unnerved at the stillness of her sire. It was something that was alien to her; usually he was ball of energy, in constant motion.

“Sorry, pet, just pondering times past.” Spike reached up without looking and tapped at Buffy’s lower lip that was caught in her teeth. He reached over and grabbed the bottle of booze and expertly spun the top off, and with a happy sigh, downed a shot.

“What times?” Buffy nudged Spike down until she could scoop some water onto his blood streaked hair, the warm water loosening the dried flakes. Pushing him up and into a seated position, rather than having him slumped against her; Buffy lathered up his platinum curls and began to scrub, her fingers avoiding the cut that was healing rapidly. “Dunk your head,” she ordered gently as her fingers toyed with the shampoo-covered curls. Spike twisted around and faced her, his cobalt blue eyes staring into her hazel ones, searching for answers to questions he hadn’t voiced yet.

Buffy soothed the wrinkles in his brow with her soap-covered fingers. She knew there was the issue of her statue impersonation to cover and that Spike was waiting for her to say something. But she was tired and didn’t want the angstathon; she just wanted to snuggle with her vamp. Look after him and coddle him for saving her again from Drac.

“We are going to have to talk it out at some point, love,” Spike whispered, all too aware of her wanting to avoid subject.

Buffy nodded. “Not now, though?”

Spike sighed and surprising her, he dunked his face into the water. His nose nudged against her curls. Buffy squeaked at the suddenness of his movements. Her fingers instinctively shot to the back of his head, and massaged the shampoo covered curls. With gentle motions of her hands, she washed off the soap. Spike’s hands slid under her thighs and cradled her hips. His mouth sliding upwards to press against her soft stomach for a brief kiss. Surging upwards, he twisted around and took up his previous position, nestled against her body.

“Yeah, now. Best to get this off your chest before the rot sets in.” Spike took one of her hands and began to kiss the tips of each finger, giving each one a good nibble, too.

“Thought you were on my chest,” she teased.

Spike cocked an eyebrow at her. “Pet, it’s okay that you were wrong-footed by the git, first meeting an’all…”

“No, Spike, it’s not okay. I’m…I’m…the Slayer. I get hurt if I’m not ready, and other people who I should be protecting-- fighting for-- could get killed because of that. I can’t afford to be off my game, ever. The one time I was, I got turned…” She growled angrily.

Spike shifted slightly so he could see her face, his free hand reaching up to sooth her. Buffy jerked away, too caught up in her anger towards herself to notice anything. He grimaced at her actions. “Oi, none of that, m’trying to help you,” he growled.

“Spike, you helped me tonight. If you hadn’t come when you did, then I have no idea what would have happened. Drac’d probably would’ve terrified me into being Bridey number two…” A look of horrified repulsion covered her fine features at the memory of the European vampire’s hands on her body.

Spike stood up. Reaching down he pulled Buffy into his arms and then settled back into the warm water. Holding her face against his chest, he moved his hands up and down her back soothingly. “Hush now, I’ll always have your back, and next time you’ll rip his extremely small dangly bit off and shove it down his throat.”

Buffy snorted against Spike’s chest and then sniffled again. She hated how pathetic she had been, crawling away from him with her heart in her mouth-- a victim. It reminded her of the seconds of panic she had felt in that car in High School when Cameron had asked if she liked it rough and then had tried to touch her. For a brief moment she had been Buffy the girl, terrified and weak. The same feelings she’d had when Dracula had appeared.

And she hated herself for it. She was the Slayer; there was no room in her life for weakness. Not now. Not with that Glory chick and Dracula sniffing around her town and the Hellmouth.

Spike crooned at her, nonsensical words, trying to sooth her. He pulled her up slightly, cradling her against his throat and ran his fingers through her wet hair, trying to calm her down as best he could. He was used to Dru, the gibbering wreck of a vampire that Angel had left behind for him to look after. For decades he had been able to talk her down from her temper tantrums and tears. But when Buffy cried, he was all fingers and thumbs. In essence he became what he had hated most of all-- William the Bloody Awful Poet.

Buffy rubbed her face against Spike’s throat. The scent of his skin was intoxicating. Earthy Master vampire with a hint of cigarette smoke and leather, all of which made her mouth water. Even with the tea tree oil perfume that was clinging to his soft skin. She wanted to fix everything, make amends for her meltdown over her mom. She had a vague idea as to how to do it, but wasn’t sure if Spike wanted it. He’d never brought it up.

Buffy’s fangs dropped and her irises changed to the now familiar lavender hue, signalling her demonic nature. Spike, unaware of her intentions carried on soothing her, oblivious to the enormous step his childe was about to attempt.

She was working on instinct here, allowing her demon free reign for the first time. There was a rushing sound in her ears as the demon within her stretched out its control over her powerful body. Her senses were heightened; every sound and smell was amplified a hundredfold. The drip of water from the tap was thunderous in her ears; the scents of the bath products were vying for dominance with Spike’s. The Slayer within her for once was silent, not battling for ascendancy with the demon that was now housed within Buffy’s body alongside the Slayer spirit.

It was as if the Slayer part of her was giving Buffy her blessing for what she had in mind.

With a kittenish snarl, Buffy struck at her intended target. Her fangs sank deep into Spike’s pale throat, her jaw muscles working as she drank deeply. Taking him into her again.

Spike relaxed at the sensation of her sharp little fangs piercing his neck; he knew she needed his blood to heal and also to ground herself. He also needed her to drink from him. Unaware of her real intentions, he offered no objections to her unsolicited bite.

Buffy was in heaven; she was sure of it.

This time it was different. The bite was more than an exchange of blood; it was a melding of their beings. She could sense everything about William and Spike with each draw of his rich blood. The memories were flowing thick and fast, much like his blood down her throat. It was like a fine vintage wine, seasoned and filled with an incomparable taste. Her body was vibrating with sheer pleasure; a delirium was building into a crescendo. Buffy wriggled around and straddled Spike, her fangs never leaving his throat. Sliding up and down on his hard cock, she purred as best she could around her fangs.

Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head and his hands grabbed hold of her hips, trying to hold her still long enough for him to enter her.

Buffy twisted her hips away from his hands, and away from his cock and slid her hands down between their writhing bodies. She grasped his throbbing erection and began to pump it roughly. Spike’s scarred brow shot up at the sensation of her firm caress. His girl had never been this forceful during sexual encounters with him before and his demon liked it. Spike felt his face shift, amber chasing azure out of his eyes as his brows rose and his fangs dropped. He thrust against her strong hands with a purring howl, but it tailed off when realisation dawned.

She was trying to initiate a claim.

“No!” Spike jerked his head backwards, his actions tearing Buffy’s fangs from his throat. Blood spurted out from the wound he created in his shock, covering her startled face.

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice quavered slightly.

He had rejected her claim.

The pain of that was starting to leech through her entire being. She let go of his softening cock and leapt out of the bath, wrapping her arms around her body. She was unsure what to do or say, she had been so sure this was what he had wanted.

Spike slapped his hand to the side of his neck, stemming the flow of blood. He rinsed off his crimson stained chest with his free hand and then stepped out of the bath. “Give me a hand here, childe,” he ordered softly.

Buffy hesitantly approached him. Spike lifted his hand exposing the torn and bleeding area on his neck. “Seal it.”

Without a word Buffy licked the wounds shut, barely tasting his blood in her panic. Gone was the enjoyment and excitement of seconds ago that her Sire’s blood had evoked in her entire being. She was hurting, in agony. He had rejected her attempt to claim him and now Buffy had no idea what to do.

Spike wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for a flannel, dipping it into the pinkish lukewarm bathwater he wrung it out. Buffy stood still before him, her shoulders hunched defensively and tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to fall down her face. Cupping her wobbling chin in his hand, Spike gently cleansed his blood off her face and chest with an impersonal touch. While his hands moved over her face and body, the usually verbose vampire was mute.

Finally Buffy couldn’t stop herself. She broke down, the tears poured down her cheeks and she began to sob loudly.

“Pet, don’t…” Spike wrapped a towel around her and then picked her unresisting body up and carried her into their bedroom.

“You…do…don’t…wa…want me!” she wailed. “I did it wrong, didn’t I?”

Spike sighed and placed the soggy weeping bundle of Slayer onto their bed. He left her for a moment and rifle through their wardrobes searching for a pair of sweat pants. He needed a barrier between them for now. Pulling on a dark grey pair, he let the wet towel drop to the floor and walked back to the now curled up form of his girl.

His hands hovered over her quaking shoulders. “Buffy love, you listening to me?” Spike sat down on the bed and stifled a smile at the sight of her pulling a pillow over her head in a childish attempt to block his voice, curling up even tighter to avoid him. She didn’t want to hear his reasons for the massive rejection, even if he couched it in gentle niceties.

“Right then…” Spike rubbed his hand on her back in a soothing manner and waited for his stubborn girl to unfurl herself and listen to what he had to say. He waited and waited but she carried on sniffling into the eiderdown.

Eventually he sighed. “Love, you didn’t do it wrong.”

Buffy stopped crying at his softly uttered announcement, but remained curled up tight. She felt safer in this position, more protected from whatever excuse he was going to hit her with.

Spike cursed himself for what he was about to say. He even glanced down to check if he was still a bloke.

“I’m not ready.” And with those three damming words falling from her sire’s lips, Buffy felt something shrivel up and die inside her.

She added another rejection form a man she loved to the pile and closed her heart.
 

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