Chapter 29

Anya flicked through the "The Modern Wicca", a new magazine which she was considering placing on order for the shop. It was filled with mind numbingly boring articles about how to pickle your own mandrake roots and ‘do-it-yourself’ de-eyeballing of rats. She wasn't too sure if she wanted her customers cutting out her goods and going straight to the source for their eyeballs.

She looked over at Tara and shook her head. As if they would! Somehow she couldn't see the blonde girl scooping out ratty eyes. She filled in the order form and added it to the pile of paperwork for Giles to approve.

There was a comfortable silence in the Magic Box, the two human occupants both busy with their own thing. Both oblivious of the vampire curled up in the forbidden section.

Tara was catching up on her college work and Anya was busy with re-ordering. They were both waiting for Giles to return with breakfast and then they could go over the events of the previous night. Tara was still in shock that Anya had managed to dust a Bride and save Spike and Giles from both a beating and being chomped on.

"Is she here?" Spike’s agitated demand made the two women jump.

Tara tucked a strand of her hair behind an ear and looked over at the agitated vampire that had just entered from the basement. She shook her head quickly in response to his barked question, unused to him being so prickly with her. Spike ignored her and carried on muttering under his breath while pacing back and forth. Her eyes were glued to the still healing bite marks on his neck. She suppressed a tiny shiver; it was scary to consider that those marks were Buffy's.

"What did you do?" Anya looked assesingly at Spike. "You were an idiot male, weren't you?" She had a honed instinct when it came to males and their foolishness. Her eyes locked on the bite marks that adorned his neck and her eyebrows shot up towards her hairline.

The other vampire in the shop shifted slightly, and listened intently to the conversation below.

Spike stalled in his tracks and gawped at the ex-demon. "How the bloody hell did you...?"

He trailed off at the sight of the two women walking towards him, compassion colouring Tara's soft features. But what was making him worry was the look of pure vengeance in Anya's eyes. He thanked his somewhat insane maker that demon girl was without her powers. He did take a cautious sniff to double check she was still human. He fidgeted uncomfortably at the gleam in Anya's eyes.

"Spike, did you do something which I will have to call on Hally to sort out?" Anya demanded crossly. She was starting to worry about Buffy. Whatever Spike had done it must be bad if he was here, and admitting to searching for his childe. Those bite marks where fresh and if he was running around like a headless Chickdark demon then something was wrong.

Anya realised that for him to admit to anyone that he had lost track of Buffy was something she had never envisaged the Aurelian Master vampire doing. It made him vulnerable to attack from her friends; the very friends who Spike knew where watching his every move like a hawk. The state he was in also was making her wonder just what he had done to her friend. Anya's strong protective gene kicked up a notch and she gave him a furious glare.

"Who's Hally?" Tara interrupted the angry stares with her question.

"A vengeance demon, a very old friend - in fact I was the one who got her into the business. Her main speciality is children but she's very good at inflicting pustulating boils to the scrotum. She gets them in just the right place that the man thinks if the boil bursts then something else might." Anya stared pointedly at Spike's groin.

"I say, that's really quite putrid." Giles's voice came from behind Spike, causing the vampire to spin around with a yelp. "Now Anya, here is your triple expresso and bearclaw; maybe they might cheer you up."

"Ohh delicious. And no, Giles. I am not cheering up because of your food bribery. He," Anya gestured with her pastry at Spike, showering him with flakey pastry crumbs, "has lost Buffy, and if he is coming here to find her and by doing so, letting us know that he is in the canine house, then he deserves a plague of boils on his scrotum." She eyed Spike. "Do you deserve it?" A perfectly manicured fingernail tapped him on the chest.

“I bloody do not, you silly chit ,” Spike muttered as he took a tiny step back and raised his hands defensively.

Anya arched a finely plucked brow at the vampire she was stalking towards. “Oh really?”

Spike's Adam's apple moved abruptly as he gulped at her. 'She was one scary bint!' He ground his teeth together, the movement causing his high cheekbones to stand even more in relief. Spike was aching to blurt out everything, to explain Buffy’s claiming attempt and the reasons behind his refusal but he was channelling William’s gentlemanly ways to the extreme. But he was damned if he was going to be the one taking all the blame. “Might want to talk the fang happy Slayer,” he muttered softly in his defence, none of the humans caught his heartfelt words as he flopped down onto an empty chair.

"Anya, please stop talking about Spike's balls. I haven't had enough tea to cope with that conversation yet," Giles admonished as he handed Tara her Green Chai. The Watcher stared at Spike and was about to cross- examine him about why Anya was threatening the vampire and also to demand were Buffy was, when Spike interrupted him.

"Yeah, let’s leave the boys out of this." Spike pulled his duster tight around his body, and immediately regretted it. The scent of Buffy was all over the thing from last night and it made his body ache.

He'd woken this morning after barely two hours sleep to find the bed and the apartment empty. His girl had scarpered but he could sense through their familial bond that she was nearby and hurting. Spike mentally slapped himself for not explaining his actions over her attempt to initiate a claim. He had tried to before they had fallen asleep, but his childe's distress had overwhelmed him and all he had been able to do was hold her as close as she'd let him, attempt to coddle and soothe her. Or so he had thought. When he had woken to the empty bed, panic had filled him. He had failed her again and his Slayer had gone.

Yes, he wanted to claim her. But no, he didn't think the reasons behind her trying it were good enough for a strong claim. To appease a sire was all well and good, and a bit of blood play while they shagged was also fine. But to try and claim him in the hopes of 'fixing' their fight over his secrecy about Mum was not the way to go.

Spike slumped on the metal ladder leading up to the forbidden section and rubbed his hands over his face. He had buggered up trying to explain it to Buffy and probably deserved Anya setting her old mate on him. And a very small part of him also wondered, worried over the suddenness of her approach. He was very worried that his Slayer had tried to claim him because of her fear of Dracula. Something he hadn't dared to voice. He wanted her to claim him for love and nothing more. Spike’s head was starting to ache from all the William-like thoughts, but for once he was in accord with his former self.

There was a faint rustle of paper that caught his attention. It was coming from the gallery above him and then there was a tiny sniffle. Which was all he needed to hear. She was safe-- weepy but safe. His face split with a relieved smile and all the tension left his body.

Giles took a gulp of his Earl Grey. "Right now, what is wrong?" He directed his question at the blond vampire who was grinning like a demented loon at him and the girls. "I say Spike, are you quite alright?" The Watcher had been wondering if he was going to have to stake the idiot in front of him for whatever he had done to Buffy. Giles's mind veered away from the possibilities of what else his charge had been 'up to' with her Sire. Instead, he focused on the here and now and the smiling prat.

Spike nodded and winked at Tara and Anya, pointing above him. Realisation dawned on the two women's faces.

"What happened to your face? It's quite bruised." Giles changed the subject as he picked the raisons out of his pastry with a grimace. Every time he ordered one without, they gave him one with raisons - he was starting to wonder if it was a conspiracy to poison him. He looked up at Spike and briefly wondered why he was pointing at the ceiling. He had started to wonder if Spike had lost all his marbles; he'd been acting odd in some form or other ever since he had saved Buffy.

"Drac. Tried to have a go at Buffy and yours truly got in the way." Spike for once was reticent to elaborate. Which earned him an arch look from the Watcher sitting opposite him. Spike heard a small snort from above him, and another rustle of paper. He was starting to wonder what exactly she was reading.

Buffy didn't even have to strain to hear the conversation below her on the shop floor. Her vampiric hearing picked up everything, even Anya's boil threat, and eww!!

She had managed to beat everyone in today, and had holed herself up in the forbidden reading section since before sunrise. Reading everything she could find on vampire claiming rituals. And oh boy, were there loads of essays and books on the subject. The Watchers seemed to be fascinated by it. She was still trying to make sense of why Spike rejected her attempt at claiming him. At first she’d wondered if maybe she'd done it wrong? Was there a ritual or some words that had to be said? But as the confused vampire had carried on her research, Buffy realised that she hadn't done anything wrong. 'He just didn't want her.'

"I'm sorry, did you say Dracula attacked Buffy?" Giles's sharp tones pulled Buffy from her maudlin thoughts.

"Yeah, but I managed to get in there before he could hurt her. Even gotta souvenir from him." Spike tossed the fang onto the table.

Tara poked at it with a cautious finger. "That's his fang?

Spike rocked back on his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Yup, kicked it out of his head myself."

"Good Lord, that is revolting," Giles gasped. He didn't even want to ask why Spike would take such a disgusting trophy.

Anya picked the small incisor up and stared at it thoughtfully. "This could be useful." She looked over at Spike. "Can I keep it?"

Spike eyed his prize for a moment and nodded his assent. He laid his index finger along the side of his nose and winked at the perky woman. "Great minds, right?"

She nodded in agreement. "Good." Anya tucked the tooth away in her pocket. Tara frowned at the two of them. She’d a creeping suspicion as to what they were planning and it jarred her Wiccan beliefs. But, she held her tongue.

"Something we need to talk out a bit, Watcher." Spike stretched his back and sighed happily as it clicked and cracked loudly.

Buffy's curiosity was peaked. She quietly shut the leather bound book she had been reading and shuffled forward on her butt to have a peek.

"Demon girl is moving in with me and Buffy." Spike’s quietly uttered statement was met with a volley of what's, why's and when's.

Buffy's fingernails dug into her palms, drawing blood. 'He's inviting Anya to stay to act as a chaperone?' was all she could think, her insecurities and self-doubt colouring her every thought. Spike's rejection had cut her deeply-- not just on a vampiric level, but it also played on her human insecurities that were deeply rooted in her Dad and Angel's rejection of her love. She wanted him all to herself and that was why she had tried to claim him, to show him she loved him, nothing more and nothing less. And now he was moving Anya in? Buffy was too caught up in her self-pitying that she had lost sight of the real picture and the threats Dracula had made towards Anya.

He Ignored all the questions being thrown at him. "You alright, love?" Spike called up to Buffy. He'd scented her blood and his eyes flashed amber. His body wound tight, ready to spring into action, but something held him in place. He turned his head to stare up at the forbidden section, his entire body leaning towards her, but at the same time still. Spike knew he was in the doghouse with her but had no idea what to do to repair the damage he had inflicted on her because of the aborted claim.

With a huff, Buffy stood and stomped down the metal stairs. "Fine. Why would you be worried?" she asked in a pointed tone and flopped down next to Tara, all the while glaring at Spike.

"Why am I moving into your place? Please don’t get me wrong, it is a very nice home, but I like my bed not yours…I tried it out and it is too soft. This isn't some sort of kinky threesome thing, is it? I haven't had one of those since 1916, and I have to say, Alphonse Capone was really quite innovative and his first lieutenant was very good at pleasuring us both orally." Anya's glaze flicked back and forth between the two blond vampires.

"Al Capone? Really?" Giles turned in surprise to his shop manager. He sometimes forgot about the history which she had witnessed and created. "What was he like?" The words shot out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Giles mentally slapped himself as he knew that the literal girl would misinterpret his question. He glanced over at Spike and exchanged a resigned smile with the now smirking vampire.

"Well, he was surprisingly well endowed. His penis was nicely shaped and had a very stimulating curve to it. But I just realised that wasn't what you were asking. Yes Rupert, I met Al Capone, he was a very charming man for a homicidal criminal." Anya folded her hands primly on her lap. She leant over to Tara and whispered very loudly, "I'll tell you all about his penis later."

"Oh, thanks." Tara looked nervous at the details she would no doubt be getting later about the gangster.
Buffy shot a sympathetic glance the wiccan's way. 'I soooo didn't want to be there for that pillow talk, but if Spike gets his way, then I guess I will.'

++++++++++

"Why did you wish for my presence?" Dracula leant against the wall, attempting to appear nonchalant but in reality trying to ensure he didn't collapse in a shivering heap on the floor. He had never thought that Spike would be strong enough to take him on and bloody him up so severely. But the Aurelian Whelp had, and for that alone he had to die. Dracula was acutely aware that he couldn't let anyone find out that he had been bested in a fight.

"What happened last night?" Glory paced back and forth, stopping only to slap at one of her fawning minions occasionally. "That vampire was here-- the one with the funny coloured hair-- and you didn't tear his heart out? Instead you let one of your whores dust?"

She continued screaming at the incensed Master vampire, not caring in the slightest that she had insulted him. He had already vowed revenge on Anyanka for her destroying his beloved childe; he had some ideas as to how to make her hurt. It was useful to know she was now mortal, and easy to break. He just needed to get his hands on the ex-vengeance demoness and then he and Maruska would paint her body with her own blood and then hand her over to Glory.

"I want my Key found immediately. We have wasted enough time and I really am getting tired of being here." Glory paused in front of her brown robed minions. "Get out there and start watching the Slayer and her merry band of misfits. I mean, really. Whoever heard of a Slayer having friends? That is just not normal!" Glory shuddered.

"I will do my best to observe her as well," Dracula offered quietly.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you've been observing and it disgusts me…sweating bodies linking together and acting even more bestial that usual." Glory's small mouth was pursed in a moue of disgust. "Face it, she was never yours to start with and will never be."

Glory eyed her minions angrily. "Why are you all still here?" There was a mad scramble to the door.

"Remember, look for anything unusual in her life: new friends or changes in her home...maybe a new pet?" Glory shouted after them. "Or car...who the hell knows what my Key looks like. That sneaky Slayer took my monk from me before I could find out...maybe it's a pair of shoes?"

Dracula managed not to laugh at the now rambling blonde as her mind slowly deteriorated in front of him. He sighed, knowing that it was his responsibility to find her a meal. But then he paused and stared hard at the now drooling mess that was rocking back and forth on his flagstone floor, tearing out her frizzy hair. There were none of her followers around and he really couldn't care less if she was suffering. Dracula called for a minion to help him walk back to his room.

He left Glory where she fell on the floor, a sweating and drooling mess.

+++++++++

"Are you going to tell us what happened?" Anya sat down on the left of Spike, hemming him in between her and Tara. Her long fingers tapped the side of her neck pointedly. She had noticed the tension and the looks being exchanged between the two blond vampires and her interest was piqued even more. There was a story begging to be told here and she was going to be the one to pry it out of the unusually tight-lipped Spike who was pouting down at his hands and then staring longingly at the firmly closed door.

Spike stared at the irritating barrier of the training room, his mind racing, wondering what Buffy was telling her 'dad' and how long it would be before the fragile détente he and Giles had established would be shattered. As much as he crowed to the world about being the lone wolf and the Big Bad he had started to enjoy the curious friendship that was slowly evolving between himself and his fellow countryman. He had hoped that it would grow into something more, but if his pain in the arse childe started with the crocodile tears, he was buggered.

"Spike?" Anya poked him in the ribs hard to get his attention. "Are you brooding?"

Spike did a double-take and flecks of citrine shot through his blue eyes. "I do not brood!" he huffed.

Tara giggled at the affronted look on his face.

Spike sighed. His entire body appeared to collapse in on itself. His forehead hit the table with a resounding thunk and a loud groan erupted from his lips. "I'm a heartless bastard who deserves to be staked out to meet the sunrise."

Tara hesitantly placed a comforting hand on his hunched back. "I...I'm sure you don't deserve to be k...illed?"

Spike turned his head and rested his check on the table and stared up at the compassionate girl. "I do."

"Enough with your cryptic remarks, just tell us!" Anya smacked him gently on the back of the head. "If I have to move in with you two for my own safety then I don't want to have to listen to this all the time!"

Spike sat up and eyed the two women curiously, 'since when had he acquired two confidants?'

"And before you say anything, yes, we are your friends and yes we do care about you," Tara interjected.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Spike asked in surprise

"Women's intuition," Anya explained dismissively. "Now tell us what you did and then we can try and fix it." Her dark eyes glittered with the anticipation of finally discovering what had happened.

Both of the vampires were hiding something. The fight with Dracula had been discussed, analysed and of course meticulously recorded by Giles. But there was something more to it all-- the furtive way Spike's eyes slid away from Buffy's imploring looks. Both of their body language’s screamed discontent and unhappiness. It made her teeth ache and she wanted it to stop before she moved into their place.

+++++++

"Giles, I don't think he loves me." Buffy's whispered confession broke the silence in the training room. She swung at the punching bag half-heartedly and turned tear-filled hazel eyes towards her uncomfortable watcher, hoping he could fix everything.

Giles pulled off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket; he definitely didn't want to be able to see her face during this conversation, coward that he was. Like all males of any species-- human or demonic-- Giles wasn't equipped to handle the tears of a woman he cared about, especially Buffy's.
He sat down on the small couch and sighed. He glanced briefly at the door, wondering if he could make a break for it. "Buffy dear, that is really rather a preposterous statement."

Buffy whirled to face her beleaguered Watcher, ready to launch into a volley of defensive words. Her eyes filled with reproach at his statement, her lower lip wobbling ominously.

Giles winced and braced himself for hurricane Buffy and waited...and waited. He opened his eyes and was witness to the silently weeping Slayer. "Oh my dear...what on earth happened?"

"He...he...du...doesn't l...lu…love me!" Buffy’s chin shook and then she threw herself at her pole-axed Watcher. She half fell onto the couch and half onto him and indulged herself in a good cry.

" There...there, Buffy, now none of this!" Giles exclaimed as he hesitantly patted her on the back. He was silently wishing Joyce were here to tend to her daughter. He had no idea what to do or say. His extensive Watcher's training had never covered situations like this.

Buffy wiped her face on Giles's shoulder; the bristle of the tweed on her face was soothing in a way she had never expected. The scents of ink, dust and tea that she inhaled comforted her, calming the despair within her. The three predominant scents would always offer her a feeling of security; they were intrinsically interconnected with Giles in her sense memory.

+++++++++

"So she tried to claim you and you rejected her?" Anya's thin eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But I would have thought that was the culmination of all your wet dreams?"

"Anya!" Tara flushed bright red at those final words. The flustered Wiccan was already discomfited by the revelation that Buffy had tried to claim Spike. She was sure that the newly turned Slayer wouldn't want Spike to be so frank about their bedroom activities. Her stomach roiled with her internalised distress towards the direction in which their conversation had taken. Also, she felt that she wasn't informed enough to be able to contribute to the discussion, whereas Anya was-- she had a thousand years of experience.

"She's crying again." Spike sighed and covered his face. "I feel like such a bastard, curse me now."

Tara looked over at the door, "I...I…don't think Giles can cope with Buffy crying." She stood, and looked down at Spike's huddled shoulders, feeling torn between the two of them. She laid a gentle hand on the back of Spike’s head and was surprised at the softness of his hair. She had expected it to be dried out from all the bleaching and hair products he slathered on it. “Can I just say one thing?”
Spike nodded and sighed.

“I...I may not be the foremost expert on the Bitey thing, but it sounds to me like she tried to c…claim you without asking and that’s wrong?”

Spike’s shouldered tensed and then relaxed. “S’what I was thinking…”

“Have you tried to explain this to her?” Tara whispered.

Spike shrugged, “Tried too…”

“And?” Anya interrupted.

Spike sat up and gestured to the training room. “Behold my success,” he explained wryly.

“Hmmm…” Anya tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail to her lips. “You need to try harder. Why are men so bad at talking? I really believe if they tried harder there would be less demand for Vengeance demons.”
Tara giggled and Spike sat up. Tara’s hand slid off his head and landed on his shoulder, she squeezed it firmly, offering silent support to the distraught vampire.

“Can’t see that happening though. Men are too silly for words. There will always be a demand for Hoffy’s form of vengeance.” Anya folded her arms and eyed Spike closely. “What stopped you returning her claim?”

“Well, we were having a nice bath and there was some…well…”Spike glanced almost shyly at Tara, embarrassed about discussing anything intimate with the motherly girl.

“Naughty touching?” Tara surprised them both with a wicked smile.

“Well, yeah…” Spike answered, flustered beyond all belief. Tara was too pure in his mind to even consider naughty touching.

“Really, Spike! You think Willow and I don’t do stuff?”

Spike resisted the impulse to slap his hands over his ears and chant lalalalalala. It was as if Joan of Arc had announced she liked a good snog after a fight.

“So she bit you?” Anya deftly changed the subject, barely concealed mirth in light her brown eyes as she glanced over at Spike’s face and the rabbit in headlights look he had on it at the moment.

Tara blinked and then her eyes unwillingly shot to the bite mark on Spike’s pale neck. Her mind filled with images of Buffy and her fangs embedded in his throat and she flushed a bright red. She flinched internally; there was some things best left to the demonic experts.

Before Spike had a chance to retort, a sniffle from the direction of the training room reached his ears and distracted him.

"Go to her please, Glinda," he muttered softly. He wanted his girl to be looked after and Glinda was the one to do this, not the befuddle nit that was in there with his Slayer. Also, the wiccan looked like she needed a break from the bloodtalk.

Anya waited until Tara had made a graceful retreat. "I think you shocked our not so innocent lesbian witch with your bloodshed talk." She crossed her arms and waited for Spike to look up at her. "So why didn't you bite her back and save yourself and all of us all this angst?"

"Your sympathy is utterly underwhelming, pet." Spike stood and began to pace, running his fingers through his hair. "I stopped her attempt because she was doing it for the wrong reasons. Not for love."

"Are you sure that's the only reason?"

Spike looked over his shoulder at Anya who was leaning forward and staring at him intently. "Wot you getting at?"

"Were you also being a Victorian male and feeling insecure because she initiated the claim and not you?" Anya watched as Spike's face contorted with guilt.
+++++++++

"Mr Giles?" Tara slipped into the room and clicked the door shut behind her.

Giles gestured to the newcomer, relief flooding his entire being. She would be able to cope with the tears. He also needed a drink, and bugger the time, his Slayer wanted to claim one quarter of the infamous Scourge of Europe. As much as the sod was growing on him, there were limits!

Tara sat down next to the sodden bundle of Slayer who was clutching Giles’s waist. She gently pulled Buffy off her startled and extremely uncomfortable Watcher and into her own arms. She rocked back and forth calming Buffy with her softly spoken words.

“Thank you, dear girl…” Giles stood and then leaned down and cautiously patted Buffy on the shoulder, before he beat a hasty retreat to find that bottle of scotch he reserved for Buffy meltdowns.

+++++++++++++

Spike hesitated at the door. He was about to enter the lion’s den and he was positive that he wouldn’t escape unscathed. He was armed with Anya’s advice; she had been sympathetic towards him once the entire sorry tale had been told. She had understood his reasoning for the aborted claim. The frank woman had even added that Buffy’s previous emotional entanglements also explained her attempt at initiating the claim. She had been quite firm in her advice – be gentle but firm and state your case. So here he stood, ready to explain himself yet again to his girl.

Tara and Anya had left a few moments ago to collect some clothes for his new flatmate. There were reproachful looks cast on him from all three mortals. From the two women the looks were more of a ‘hurry up and go and talk to her’ reproach. With Giles it was a ‘sort this out soon as I don’t want a liver replacement operation because of her’ look. The vampire had waited patiently for his girl to leave her inner sanctum, but to no avail. So he had to beard the lioness in her den.

Spike nudged the door open with his boot and peered into the training room. ‘Time for the mountain to go to Mohammed.’

The only sign she was aware of his presence was the straightening of her spine. Buffy kept her back to Spike and continued to fiddle with the slim bladed throwing knife. She flipped it over and over, each time catching its handle. She cradled it in one hand and studied the blade carefully.

Anything to keep her from looking at Spike.

She still couldn’t face him, not after what he’d done to her. He had broken her heart more deftly than either Angel or her dad had done.

“Love?” Spike took a hesitant step into the quiet room.

Buffy’s shoulders hunched at the softly uttered endearment. One she seriously doubted he meant. A small part of her was also now making with the guilts, telling her she had overreacted and was punishing Spike for something she had done.

Spike sighed and looked over his shoulder at Giles, who was busy pretending not to eavesdrop while at the same time rolling a stake on the counter and sipping from a decidedly dodgy smelling cup of tea. It was a silent but obvious message -- he nodded and took another step into the room.

“Buffy, can I explain?” Spike hated the wheedling tone to his voice. 'The things that loving this woman does to me.’ He reached a shaking hand out towards her. “Bout the Claim, pet…”

Buffy chewed her lower lip, aware of every move he made. Her entire being craved his touch, but her pride stopped her. She was tired, confused and scared. All she wanted was too see her Mom and curl up with her and let her make everything better.

Spike growled quietly, frustrated at her silence, and then decided to toss the cat in amongst the pigeons and see what happened. “Thing is, love… the Claim, you did it for the wrong reasons.” Spike braced himself for an impassioned rebuttal from the rigid girl in front of him. “I love you and do want you… as mine for all time…but not…not…not because you were feeling a bit wobbly and wanted to hide. I want all of you, every little bit of you, even the not so perfect bits…BUT I want the claim to do done out of love!” He waited for something, a sign that his impassioned words had made an impact on her.

But he was greeted with silence.

Buffy’s shoulders hunched even more, there it was. The teeny tiny part of her that had been smacking her upside the head was right. She was wrong and now it was a mess. Buffy had no idea what to do. So she kept quiet.

Spike thrust his thumbs into his waistband and rocked on his heels. The silence was getting to the verbose vampire. “Please, Childe?”

He tried to suppress the quiver of disappointment at her lack of interaction with him, but failed. He had laid out everything and she had not responded. A tendril of doubt coiled its self around his fragile psyche and gave it a squeeze.

“You didn’t ask me, Slayer. You just sunk your fangs into me and tried to do something for the wrong reasons. Something that is so precious, so intimate between two vampires - who love each other. It’s something so fragile and which needs to be done the right way. But no, you jump me in the tub and try to claim me because you felt needy. I want the two of us to claim each other out of love and not necessity… Christ luv, even when I asked you to marry me under Red’s spell, I asked, didn’t go all Neanderthal on you and club you over the head and drag you off to my cave. I didn’t just foist it on you without discussing it first.”

Buffy winced at the desperation that leeched into his rough voice. She shook her hand; the blade of the knife had cut her index finger. Holding her hand up she watched mesmerised as blood welled up and ran down the back of her hand. She tried to ignore his passionate words but failed, she started to feel even worse. Slowly Buffy began to realise what she had tried to do last night had been wrong and she had hurt Spike.

Spike’s nostrils flared and he rushed towards her filled with panic. The scent of her blood flooded the room and made his mind whirl. He reached for her stiff shoulders and turned her to face him. His pale hand grasped her injured one and Spike examined it closely. “Are you okay?”

Buffy firmed her lips and pulled her hand free, stopping his panicked inspection. She couldn’t bring herself to even look into his eyes let alone talk to him. The guilt was filling her.

Spike caught hold of her shoulder with his now free hand and prevented her from pulling away from him. Fear and the pain of his childe’s physical rejection of him was filling him with a curious burning sensation. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since her failed claim, and he hated it. The panic roiled in his stomach and a chill ran down his spine. Their link was strong but he was beginning to worry that he had damaged it and more importantly, her. Maybe he should’ve kept quiet, but it was too late, he’d done it now.

Buffy’s hands hung limply at her sides, her entire being rejecting his attempt at contact. Blood dripped on the polished wood, staining it indelibly. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on her feet.

“I…I…can’t do this…” With that she vanished. Spike stumbled forward, his hands clutching at air. Buffy had used her disappearing trick on him and she was gone.

A/N Not my fault Megan and Kat made me do it ::grin:: It will be fixed I swear and the updates will be coming regularly now I got over the argh how do I fix it saga!!
 

Chapter 30

"I still don't understand why we had to leave? Spike said I was moving into your place, not haring off to the big city!"

Buffy grunted and stared out the window; the outskirts of LA were still grotty and underdeveloped.

"Buffy? I am trying to talk with you! You make me drive this poor substitute for a penis for over two hours and barely talk to me! I know from films that when girls have a road trip there is female bonding and banter, not sulking! This is not fun." Anya sighed. She gingerly manoeuvred the red convertible around a trunk and began to search for the exit they needed.

"Hmm..."

"Hmm, yourself! Buffy what are you doing? Running away from Spike? He really was quite upset. You should have stayed and talked with him," Anya snapped in frustration as she veered past a stalled car and silently cheered that she had managed to not hit it.

"Gah!"

"So you're 'pity me' mood has resulted in a reversion to a Neanderthal form of communication. Was there magic beer as well? Xan...um...well, I heard all about cave Buffy..." Anya's eyes filled with tears and she sniffled loudly.

"Humph..."

Anya sighed and carried on driving. She missed Xander but despite the outward appearance of confidence in his return, deep down she knew.

She just knew.

*********

"You let her go," Giles slurred as his unsteady hand slapped down on the table. He'd been aiming for the bottle but missed by a mile. "Why did you do that? I miss Buffy, she's sweet... and you let her run away. She's prone to that, y'know?"

Spike glared over the rim of his glass and downed it in one. "Thank you for stating the obvious, you nit! I know she's pranced off. S'not like she's playing hide and seek, is it?" Spike staggered up and began to stumble around the flat, "here Buffy...Buffy...come out...come out wherever you are." He pulled open the bedroom doors with a dramatic flourish and peered in. "Nope, no sulky Slayer in there." He sauntered back to the dining table and straddled the chair resting his chin on the back. "And you're about as pissed as a man can get without needing his sodding stomach pumped."

"Yeah." Giles looked up from the table and started to giggle. "I do miss Buffy. But she can be a pain in the arse tho'..." Giles looked around carefully. Using over exaggerated movements, he pressed his shaking finger to his lips. "Shhh....don't tell her I said that, right?" And then lapsed into drunken giggles again.

"Mate, you're giggling!" Spike stared blearily over at his inebriated drinking partner. Giles nodded and carried on giggling. "Seriously Watcher, stop it!" Spike gazed woozily at Giles and waited for the girlish sounds to go away.

They didn't. "You sound like Peaches after one too many Absinthe's...wos that one time in Monmarte when he said he saw the Green Fairy floating around his head. Dru loved that. Finally had someone else who saw fairies." Spike smiled nostalgically. "Soddin ponce was the Green Fairy the next morning...think he puked up every victim's blood he'd drained..." Spike, despite his inebriation, stopped, realising that Giles's all too pricked ears were absorbing everything he said.

Giles just giggled harder. "Fairy...Angel...did he flutter his leettle wings? Y'know, he really is the most tiresome bore sometimes...never shaw what Buffy was attracted too. His forehead is HUOOOGE!" Giles waved his hands around his head, "like a ruddy cliff face...and his phizz is about as expressive as one too. Right ugly sod... def... defin... hic... definantly a three paper bag job!" Giles started giggling again.

Spike sighed. The Watcher had definitely lost it, but then again some of the drivel that had poured out of his mouth about the prancing ninny in LA was right funny. But the giggling was sodding awful, and he decided to anathestize his sensitive ears with his friend JD.

His only friend...now that his Childe had scampered off with Anya.

Spike reached down and pulled a fresh bottle out of the box by the table and broke the seal. Tipping his head back the vampire drained half the bottle in one go. His throat burned from the booze and the familiar false warmth filled his body.

Giles snorted and sat back up and pointed unsteadily at Spike. "You should go after her. While yer there, get back m'car. Anya stole it!"

Spike nodded. "I know mate, but y'know all my life and unlife I have chased the girl...fer oncesh it'd be a real eye opener for Ol'Spike if the bird chased him." He tilted his head back and took another slug from the bottle, deftly slapping Giles's hand away from his JD. "Get yer own...sh'mine..."

"Oi, you ponce – y'er th'un that invited me over for a piss up!" Giles stared woozily at the three Spikes that were sitting opposite him.

"Yeah, an' don't puke on the floor...it's some sort of stripped pine I think. Smells nice and I don' need chunks of Giles vom making pretty patterns on't!"

Giles turned green and retched, "not nice...gimme something to settle m'stomach!"

Spike pushed over a glass filled with JD and watched as the drunk human fumbled for it and then, with a woozy but triumphant shout, raised it to his lips only to tip half of it down his front. Giles gulped down the dregs with a satisfied sigh. "Nice."

With that he fell off the chair with a thunk and started snoring.

*********

"Is he overcompensating for his penis size?"

"Huh?" Buffy turned to look at Anya.

"Angel. Why does he have such a big place?" Anya pointed at the deco hotel that they had pulled up next to.

"Anya, is everything always about penises?" Buffy asked with a grin, the first real smile to cross her face since she had left Sunnydale. "As for big homes...lairs... no idea. He shifts from apartments, to mansions, to weird offices with underground apartments to hotels. Who knows?" Buffy shrugged.

"Well, there's money and friendship...but penises are fun and they always get a reaction when discussed." Anya winked at Buffy and pushed open the driver's door and got out, groaning and stretching as she did. "Come on, I want to see what it looks like from the inside. Is he rich?"

"Who, Angel?" Buffy popped the trunk and began to pull out their suitcases. "Dunno..." she shrugged.

"He would have to be to pay the utilities on this monster." Anya took the two small weekend bags and clattered up the path and headed around the fountain towards the door.

"Hey, wait up!" Buffy huffed as she ran after Anya.

*********

"You left our most splendiferous one alone and ill?" Jinx cringed slightly at the sight of Dracula's still bruised face.

"Yes I did, now be gone," Dracula snarled at the crusty minion. He wanted to go back to his bed and let Marushka coddle him a bit more. The injured vampire needed more blood as well. He snapped his fingers at one of his few minions and pointed towards the cellars where his prisoners were being kept.

"But Glorificus is to be revered...and her divine body must be cherished and kept unsweaty and undrooling – she hates that!" Jinx babbled as he backed away from the glowering Master Vampire--injured or not he could hurt the brown robed demon.

"I'm sure she does!" Dracula put his hand over Jinx's face and pushed him away. "Maybe instead of fluttering around me you would be best served cleaning her up and making her more presentable?"

*********

"Schspike?" Giles rolled onto his back and fell off the couch, landing with a clatter on the floor. "Chrischt, how the hell did I get here?" Giles tried to pull himself up and then fell back with a groan. He was more comfy on the floor anyway.

"Wotcher, keep the moaning down to a dull roar. Am trying to have a think." Spike was slouched in his favourite armchair; legs splayed, he had an unlit cigarette in one hand a bottle in the other.

"Thinking make my brain hurt..." Giles giggled.

"God, don't start with the girly stuff again. Just got some peace and quiet," Spike muttered.

"You should go to her and put her over your lap and give her a long needed hiding." Giles nodded sagely and tucked his hands under his head.

Spike squinted over at the relaxed form of his Slayer's Watcher and quirked his scarred brow in question, "Rupes, you do realised you just told me to smack your Slayer's arse?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Cos instead being the pain in the arse that she is sometimes, I think she deserves to have a pain in the arse!" Giles smiled triumphantly up at the ceiling; his drunken logic made sense to him.

"Rupes, wot happened to the 'hurt her and I'll stake you' stuff?"

"Well yes, but she is behaving rather badly, running away rather than talking things out." Giles yawned. "Tired now." With that his eyes snapped shut and a stentorian snore emanated from his open mouth.

"Lightweight." Spike shook his head and sipped from the bottle held loosely in his hand. He wondered when he'd fallen into an alternative dimension where the pissed git was offering up his Slayer's arse for a tanning.

*********

"So are we gonna stand here staring at the entrance or go in?" Anya tapped her foot and waited for Buffy to answer. She was starting to get bored with the one-sided conversation and wished that she hadn't agreed to this road trip. It was nothing like the movies, no amusing anecdotes exchanged or silly situations involving scary looking yokels chasing them out of town. She had hoped to talk to Buffy and make her see reason about the denied claim. Spike's explanation for his reasons to halt the attempt were right and now it was a question of getting through the stubborn Buffy shield.

Anya sighed, "I'm tired, hungry and need to pee. You may have already forgotten that humans sweat but I am mortal and I smell!"

"Anya? Oh my god, Buffy?" Dawn's disembodied voice rose into a high-pitched squeal.

The door was throw open and Joyce stood there in the entrance, the light spilling out from behind her and limning her in a golden glow. She stood there with a big smile on her face and her arms open and outstretched towards Buffy.

"Mommy?" Buffy's eyes filled with tears and she launched herself into her mother's comforting embrace. Joyce caught hold of her sobbing mess of a daughter with one arm and extended the other to Anya. Anya cocked her head in curiosity and then with only a slight hesitation, accepted Joyce's motherly affection. She wrapped her arms around both Buffy and her mother and patted them both with stiff hands. Unsure of how to embrace anyone who wasn't a lover, Anya's movements were awkward but well meaning.

*********

"'Preciate this, mate. Not too sure if I could drive in a straight line let alone stay on the asphalt tonight." Spike slouched in his seat and tried to look cool in the bright red VW Bug that Clem was driving towards Los Angles. Spike sighed as he felt the last of his street credit vanish into the ether. 'The Big Bad' in a VW, oh the humiliation of it. The things he did for Buffy.'

"No problem, Buddy. I told you whenever you needed anything call me...Uh Spike, could you crack a window? You smell like a brewery and it's making the kittens carsick." Clem gestured to the three cat baskets in the backseat, which were filled with Bengal kittens.

Spike squinted at the floppy skinned demon and opened his window, letting the cool night air flood the small car. It helped him sober up slightly and also helped with the suspicious feline smells that were wafting over from the backseat.

"Thanks buddy." Clem grinned and the then flicked on the CD player. The cheery tones of Jessica Simpson filled the car and echoed harshly in Spike's sensitive ears, so much so that he wondered how painful it'd be to tear them off. "She's a siren, this one!" Clem nodded enthusiastically along with the peppy music.

"Wot are you doing with the kittens?" Spike gestured to the howling baskets behind him. Apparently Bengal kittens didn't appreciate the not so dulcet tones of Jessica.

"Ohh, my auntie Vera bred them! She has three breeding pairs. Won them in that big inter-dimensional poker game. You know the one where Ben Affleck gambled his box office appeal away? Man, I never knew that an actor could do that—put up his career as a stake in a game. Scary, huh?" Clem didn't wait for the rapidly sobering vampire to reply, "Anyway, she won the breeding pairs and has been making a killing!"

"Really?" Spike turned to peer at the kittens with interest. "How much are they? Might get one for the Nibblett."

Clem chortled, an action that did interesting things to his skin flaps. It made them vibrate all over the place. "Spike, you couldn't afford one."

"Could too," Spike mumbled and without asking, unlatched one basket and deftly pulled out one of the yowling kittens. It looked like a miniature wild cat. "Right cute little sod!" Spike held it up by the scruff of the neck and examined it carefully. The small spotty kitten mewed angrily, its tiny paws flexing in the air as it swung from Spike's hand.

"Spike, you're holding about 140,000 bucks there."

Spike's hand spasmed and he nearly dropped the small animal on its expensive head. "You're sodding joking?"

"Nope." Clem glanced over at the pole-axed vampire. "Maybe you should put it back with its litter?"

Without any further encouragement, Spike stuffed the kitten back into the basket and checked that it was latched properly. "60,000 quid for a ball of fur? What the hell is the world coming to? Clem, where are these going?"

"Oh, Auntie Vera is sending them as a tithe to our pod leader. He likes pets...doesn't eat em, keeps them as companions...go figure..."

"Yeah...go figure," Spike echoed in a stunned voice.

*********

"Mommy, are you feeling okay?" Buffy ran her hands over Joyce's smiling face, reassuring herself that her mother was real, alive and healthy.

Joyce nodded with a smile. "I am. Honey, I had no idea something was wrong until Angel explained what was going on. Then I was in this weird dungeon and he was completing all these awfully painful trials."

"Huh?" Buffy frowned in confusion.

"Oh, I know this one!" Anya chirped up, her face still mashed against Joyce's shoulder. The comforting presence of the older woman was calming her in a way that she had never expected. It had been centuries since she had seen her own mother and Joyce's maternal presence in her life was a constant that she wanted for a long time to come. She was grateful to Angel for letting himself be pureed to save Joyce.

"Really?" Joyce raised a brow in interest.

"Yes, it's where someone can go for a favor as long as they complete the trials set. Some of them I have heard can be very painful."

"They were, but it was worth it." Angel's calm voice startled the newcomers. Buffy pulled back slightly from Joyce's embrace and stared over at her ex, who was flanked by a grinning Dawn.

"Buffy!" Dawn bounced towards her shorter sister and joined in the group hug.

"Hey Dawnie." Buffy's voice was muffled as she was pressed against her sister's shoulder. Her demon twitched at the scents and sounds of the bodies surrounding her. It recognised them both as family, but it also recognised them as food. Her stomach gurgled loudly and her fangs dropped slightly.

"Buffy!" Angel's usually calm voice was authoritative and immediately caught her attention. Something deep inside her responded to his tone and she pulled away from the mom, sister and Anya sandwich and looked over at him, noticing for the first time his face was burned and that he was holding himself stiffly.

"What happened to you?" She sniffed the air and could scent wounds all over his body that were still healing.

"The trials?" Anya asked curiously. "What did they make you do? Drink holy water or maybe swallow holy wafers?"

Joyce turned slightly green at the idea of Angel being hurt for her.

"Well..." Angel broke off when he saw Buffy's eyes flicker from their normal colour to lavender and back again. He could see she was starved but there was something else in her manner that caught his notice as well, a dejection that he hadn't witnessed since he had walked away in the smoke that last time in Sunnydale. "What's wrong, Buffy?"

"Nothing," she replied shortly, mad at Angel as well for not telling her that her mom had been sick. Buffy crossed her arms and avoided his gaze. Instead, she drank in the sight of her mom. She surreptitiously sniffed and tried to work out if she was healthy. But her vampiric senses were young and she was untrained so it was kind of hard for her to tell. In the end she had to ask. "Are you okay now?"

Joyce reached over and smoothed Buffy's hair back off her face. "I am now baby, thanks to Angel."

Buffy eyed her great-great grandsire solemnly, her face set in unreadable lines. Before she could say anything, her stomach growled.

"Right, Buffy you need some blood, come on." Angel gestured for her to follow him. Something deep inside her responded to his suggestion and despite her wanting to stay with her Mom and Dawnie, Buffy felt her feet move and she followed after Angel. "Joyce, can you possibly help Anya get settled in a room?"

"Sure." Joyce tucked Anya's arm into hers and pulled the now chattering blonde with her. Anya's sharp eyes took in everything; she commented on the Deco building excitedly. Dawn grinned and picked up the cases Buffy had dropped when she had seen Joyce and followed after them. She and her mom had already made up two rooms. As soon as Buffy had called to say that she and Anya were heading down to LA, the Summers women had been in a flurry of cleaning and preparing for the visit, much to Angel's bemusement.

*********

Dracula drained his last chained victim with relish. He could already feel his body healing from the infusion of fresh blood. The old man slumped in his chains, finally dead after weeks of imprisonment. 'In death there was release', Dracula thought wryly as he kicked the dead body.

Marushka stood behind him and watched as his wounds began to heal with the fresh infusion. "Master? Shall I go and retrieve more cattle for you to feed from?"

"We will need to restock with some younger and healthier vintages. That last old man was too bitter for my taste. Send out some of the minions, I have a better use for you my dear. Come to me," Dracula ordered. His thirst attended to, now he had other needs to be serviced.

Marushka approached her Master with no trepidation; she adored him and would do anything for him. He palmed her pale cheek with one hand and then pushed her hard against the cellar wall. She whirled, her eyes glowing with lust and excitement. She loved it when they screwed on the cooling corpses of their victims. She licked her lips and then vamped out. With a happy snarl she dropped to her knees and lowered her head submissively. Ready to do whatever her sire ordered.

Dracula nodded approvingly at her submissive position. "Remove your clothing," he ordered, his tone brooking no resistance from her.

Marushka slipped her silk dress off her pale shoulders and allowed it to pool at waist, revealing her naked full breasts to her sire's gaze. She rose slightly and let the dress fall further, sliding it off her legs. In a smooth move she knelt again nude at his feet. She licked her lips and looked up through her lashes at his impassive face.

"You may tend to my needs." He unzipped himself and gestured for her to approach him. She crawled over and reached into his trousers and pulled out his erect cock. Without any preamble she took him in her mouth and sank down to the root in a smooth move. He had trained her well; she knew that this was one of his favourites so he would not last more than a few minutes.

Dracula grasped her hair and began to pump his hips. Marushka's relaxed throat muscles allowed for his cock to move in and out. On each back stroke her tongue curled slightly and rubbed against the vein that throbbed on the underside of his cock. He looked down at her mouth and growled. Her eyes snapped open and looked up at him.

"Do it!" he ordered. "And don't stop looking up at me."

Marushka vamped out and kept her amber eyes glued on her sire's. Her fangs scratched his erect cock and drew blood. "Gently," he ordered.

For several long minutes the cellar was filled with the sounds of Marushka's ministrations on her sire's cock. The slurps, purrs and growls that erupted from her filled throat and mouth were music to his ears. All the while the dead eyes of the various chained corpses bore silent witness to their erotic play.

With a roar Dracula came. His cock jerked over and over as he filled his Bride's willing mouth with his cum. He pulled out and let the final spurts coat her full and swollen mouth. With a happy sigh he tucked his spent cock back into his trousers and zipped up. He untangled his hand from her hair and patted her on the head. Marushka licked her lips and smiled up at her satisfied sire.

"Follow me to my chambers," Dracula ordered. "No!" He raised his hand and forestalled her from rising to her feet. "Crawl behind me Childe, it amuses me for you to do so."

"As you wish, my Master," she purred and followed his black-clad figure out on her hands and knees.

*********

Tara tucked a blanket over Giles and then curled up in the armchair that Spike had been sitting in before Clem had arrived to pick him up. She rested her chin on one hand and watched as the older man snored loudly and a small trickle of drool ran from the corner of his mouth. She had been fast asleep when a very drunk Spike had called, asking her to baby-sit the prat who couldn't hold his liquor.

Stumbling around the dorm, she had packed an overnight bag and headed out to the Quad to meet her ride. Spike had been a bit cagey about whom it would be with, only saying that she shouldn't be scared and to look out for a red VW Bug and a 'bloke called Clem'.

She shook her head at the image of the sweetest demon she had ever met, peering up at her from under his big hand and waving happily at her from the red Beetle. She shifted and settled back and grinned at the memory of the all the kitties he had in the back. Willow would've loved them. Tara's hearted constricted in sadness-- she missed her Willowtree so much and wanted her home, back in her arms.

Tara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sighed. She knew that what Willow was learning was vital to help her exert control and not to abuse magic for her own ends. She was still in shock over the anger Willow displayed and the use of magicks she'd wielded to avenge Buffy. Something she had never expected from Willow. The letters they exchanged lessened the ache of separation, but Tara wanted to see Willow to touch her and make sure that she was okay.

But she could be patient, and in a sense she was happy that Willow was in Devon. At least it meant she was safe from Glory and the vampires that had allied themselves with the goddess.

She snuggled down under her blanket and dozed off, unaware that she was being watched.

*********

"Here." Angel handed Buffy a mug full of warmed blood and picked up his own and sipped at it, for the first time in his unlife comfortable with another witnessing him feed. It was not as if she didn't do the same. Part of him twinged with regret that Buffy was now forced into the dark as a demon just like him. All his sacrifices for them had been in vain. He had left her so she could have a normal life, walk in the sun with a boy and have a family. Now instead she was one of his clan, family, and so far beyond his reach that it was beyond funny and bordering on pathetic. His unlife sucked. Angel sighed and stared at Buffy as she gulped down her blood making nummy noises-- she had no shyness about her

A bit like Spike.

Angel grimaced; despite their truce, he was still envious that Spike had everything. He had Buffy's unequivocal love. Something he had thrown away.

"More?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"Really?" Angel turned to the industrial sized fridge in the kitchen and pulled out a pitcher of blood. Before he could heat it, Buffy pulled it from his hands and began to gulp the cold liquid down with a greedy moan. Angel stared in shock at her actions, slightly repulsed.

Buffy drained the last dregs of the pig's blood and burped. "Oopsie. Sorry, I was starved and still healing from the other night—"

"The other night? What happened?" Angel sniffed the air and could scent nearly healed wounds to her body. His demon flared with anger and protectiveness that she had been hurt, and just as he was about to launch a cross-examination, Buffy slipped past him and began to dig through the fridge.

"Oh, mom cooked meatloaf!" Buffy jigged on the spot and grabbed the leftovers and began to pick at it, her greasy fingers snagging more and more of the cold food and she stuffed it in her mouth, chewing noisily and purring with relish.

"No...you don't need to eat...you're a vampire—" Angel trailed off and stared aghast at the sight of a Buffy with her fangs flashing as she chomped her way through the meatloaf. "That's disgusting, just like Spike and his unnatural eating habits...you're cut from the same cloth." Angel's mouth tightened in disgust and he stared down into his half-empty mug, nearly missing the twitch of Buffy's shoulders at the mention of Spike's name. Unable to stop himself, Angel vamped out and growled loudly.

"What did Spike do to you?" he barked out, causing Buffy to drop the meatloaf pan and jump backwards in shock.

She tried not to lose control, but she did. Her full mouth trembled ominously and her lavender tinted eyes filled with tears. Buffy sniffled and then a deluge of tears poured down her face. "I...I...I...he...he...hurt me!" She wailed and threw herself into Angel's arms.

Angel grunted at the impact and stood there with his arms hanging loosely at his sides, unwilling to touch her, to hold her or even to embrace her. He was aching too, but she was so soft, so sweet and smelled so damned good he just froze. His mouth watered and something stirred in his loins, it stretched out and hardened, pressing against the lost love of his unlife's stomach, before he arched his hips backwards and away from her slender body. Instead of allowing the familiar arousal flood his being, he focused on the stuttered words that were still hiccupping out of her mouth.

Buffy mashed her face against Angel's chest, and sniffled loudly. He felt wrong, too big and the muscles were a bit softer than Spike's. Less definition of muscle tone and he smelt weird. He smelt like Willow did after a magic session, which was weird, as Angel didn't like magic – not after the whole Du Lac thing. Also, there was something else underlying the stinky magic stuff, something she recognised but couldn't quite put her finger on it. She wanted Spike to be hugging her and not Angel. He made her feel like a midget.

"Spike hurt you? How? When? Where? Why?" Angel demanded. He lifted his arms and cradled her shaking shoulders in his hands and pushed Buffy away from his body, and tried to look at her. But she dropped her head and wailed loudly. "My fault. I was too pushy...all my fault."

"I doubt it, Buffy. You're good, you're the Slayer. Spike's evil. He is the one who is in the wrong. Especially if he hurt you. I will kill him for that!"

"Ah Peaches, wot you got your big ugly mitts on my girl for?"

"Spike?" Buffy squeaked in surprise.

"Spike," Angel growled angrily. He pushed Buffy behind him and growled challengingly at the bleached blond menace that was lounging in the doorway glaring at him.

"Yeah. Spike. I know m'name, now wot the ruddy hell is going on here?"

"I am going to rip your heart out and stuff it down your throat, you miserable bastard."Angel howled and launched himself at Spike.

Spike wavered on his feet and glanced at Buffy in surprise. "What rot have you filled his pea brain with Childe...umph..." Spike grunted as Angel rammed his fist into his abdomen, his face took on a decidedly green tinge. 'A punch to the guts after a drinking binge was not the way to go.'

Buffy squeaked in horror, leaping forward to defend Spike from the berserker Angel who had lost all grasp on sanity and was reduced to trying to pummel Spike into the floor. Spike shook his head and with a single look managed to convey to her to stay out of the fight. He pushed upwards and managed to dislodge Angel, who had for some reason sunk his fangs into Spike's side and had been trying to gnaw his way through Spike's torso.

Spike danced backwards, kicking Angel away from his ankle as the enraged brunette vampire tried to latch onto one. "Oi, grow up and stop trying to gum me to death, you old fart!"

"Grrrrr argh!" Angel bellowed and slammed a meaty fist into Spike's abdomen again.

Spike wavered on his feet, one hand clutched his stomach and the other clapped over his mouth. "Oh no..." his voice was muffled by his hand. Spike's face turned very pale and his entire body heaved.

"Eww..." Buffy leapt back and out of the way. She had run towards Spike when Angel had punched him in the stomach again.

Angel, however, wasn't as fast.

There was a splattering noise followed by a stench of alcohol and spicy Buffalo wings.

"Oh my gawd, that is so gross," Buffy exclaimed as she stared at Angel. The older vamp had frozen in his tracks, his usually dark outfit covered in sick and his hair was hanging limply down. Spike had managed to catch him in the face as he had protejectile vomited all over his grandsire.

"Oh god, I feel better." Spike rubbed his stomach in relief.

"Well, I don't." Angel's miffed voice was muffled as he tried to avoid opening his mouth. "What the hell have you been drinking and eating?"

"Oh my, boys what have you been doing?" Joyce's voice rang out from behind Spike, causing all three vampires to freeze into an uncomfortable and guilty tableau.

"Shame on you all." Her usually kind voice was filled with maternal disapproval. "The two of you are old enough to know that biting and... errr... is that puke?" Joyce stepped away from Angel and stared at Buffy. "Honey, I didn't know vampires could be sick."

"Me either..." Angel stared at Spike with one eyebrow lifted, not that anyone could see.

"Whoa Spike, I know you don't like Angel, but even that is a bit much." Dawn stared at Angel and then looked over at a smirking Spike.

"I would say sorry but he was groping Buffy when I came in." Spike gingerly prodded the bite in his side and in a petulant voice added, "and he bit me!"

There was a resounding chorus of what's from Anya, Joyce, Dawn, Buffy and Clem.
 

tbc

Chapter 31

Some dialogue lifted and fiddled from Reprise and fiddled to fit the chapter.

"Buffy?" Angel's quiet whisper woke the lightly sleeping vampiress.

"Angel?" Buffy slipped out of her Mom's bed, carefully moving so as not to wake either of her family and utterly unaware that both her mother and sister were feigning sleep. Waiting for Angel to make an appearance.  

"What do you want?" she hissed as she pulled on her mother's ratty dressing gown and tiptoed to the suite door. She inhaled deeply and savoured her mother's comforting scents that were so embedded in
the terry-towelling robe.

Angel loomed in the doorway, a dark cloud of broodiness hovering around him as usual. He drank in her dishevelled look like a man parched. She slipped out of the door and shut it firmly behind her.

"You have 'what's up?' face." Buffy cautiously sniffed him, checking to see if he'd managed to get the smell off. A wave of relief flooded her. He had.  It was just plain ol' Angel smell now. Not yummy and oaky, with a hint of smoke and danger-- that was Spike's smell. Buffy glanced longingly over to where she could sense her sire in his room. The emotional connection between them seemed muffled, as if he had consciously blocked her off.

Buffy had been glad her mom had been there, once Spike had puked on Angel. She was still weirded out by that.  Vampires didn't puke according to Spike, but he had.  Maybe it was because he ate human food all the time and drank waaay too much whiskey. She could still smell it seeping out of every pore
of his lickable body; in the glint in his eye and the slight sway of his body as he stood being cosseted in the kitchen --sure signs that he was off his head.

Buffy remembered standing there gaping at her injured sire, wanting to help him but unsure of his reaction if she touched him again. Instead, her mom and Anya had helped.  Her mom had pushed Angel off to shower and sent Dawn for a first aid kit. Buffy had been frozen to the spot, staring at Spike.  She had felt Anya move past her to cluck over the still bleeding bite marks on his side. She had waited for one of them to pay some attention to her, the one he'd rejected, but they hadn't and she started to feel uncomfortable. Maybe she was acting up.  Maybe there was something to what Anya had tried to say in the car. She should try and talk with Spike, but it was hard, and he was ignoring her after his comment about Angel touchage.

She'd started to feel very childish and wondered if maybe she was in the wrong. Backing out of the kitchen, her mouth open as she tried to say something, but had failed. Instead she had spun around and run off, missing the look of despair on Spike's face at her exit. She hadn't any idea that he had started after her but had been stopped by Anya and Joyce's firm looks.

"Buffy, you okay?" Angel's solemn tone didn't do anything to elevate her mood. Every inch of her body silently screamed in desperation for her sire, but he was not responding.  Instead she had Angel towering over her and wanting to talk. 'And that always went so well'.  Buffy suppressed the not so joyful memory of being dumped in a sewer by the so-called love of her life. He was hardly that.  She realised with time and maturity that Angel had been her first love, the tender youthful love-- one that never really survives except in your memory. Rose tinted glasses in hindsight were always making it look and feel so much better.

Buffy felt her stomach clench with guilt, another layer added to the ones she'd already cultivated over the last day. All those years she'd held Angel up as the 'One' and she'd never even looked elsewhere for love. Riley, never had a chance. Buffy would've blushed if she could.  She was a female Parker.  Well kinda-- a monogamous Parker. Using Riley over and over-- to get off, have a 'normal' boyfriend/trophy to keep her friends and family happy and never really giving him her heart.

Then Spike.

Poor Spike.  All that time before she'd been turned he'd been there, fighting and helping, bitching about being chipped, but never doing anything really evil. Like getting a load of minions to do his dirty work. Instead he'd turned to his mortal enemy and asked for help. Which was big. Something had been intrinsically different about him from the get go.  She had been able to read between the lines when Angel had mentioned Spike, usually with derision. Spike had loved from day one as a vamp. Okay, so he'd loved Dru the Wonder Skank, but still he was different from any other vampire out there. He had a poet's heart and loved, not wisely but loved well all those years with Drusilla. But that had changed. Buffy remembered what he'd said one night in the cabin about the first time he'd seen her dancing in the Bronze, how he'd been mesmerised by her at first sight. He had grudgingly admitted that maybe, just maybe it had been love at first sight. Not that he would've let himself admit it at the time; there had been Dru then.

She had held his admission gleefully to her heart. Spike had kinda loved her from the first moment he'd clapped eyes on her. Buffy sighed.  She had screwed up somehow with the claimage and he was hurting.

She had no idea what she'd done wrong; maybe they should've talked it out before doing it?

"Buffy, I think you and I need to have a long talk." Angel crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the small vampiress in front of him. Wondering what the hell she was thinking, why was her lower lip sticking out.

"But what about Spike?" She looked over at the still closed door; Buffy could sense his presence on the other side of the panel of wood. He was probably pressed up against the door listening.

"I spoke with him and we decided that I should be the one to talk with you." Angel gestured for Buffy to accompany him.

Buffy frowned up at Angel and then with a resigned sigh trotted after him. Both vampires missing the growl that emanated from Spike's bedroom and the muffled kick to the door, followed by a yelp.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Not nice, Miss Edith. The family are altogether and we're not invited for crumpets and High Tea," Drucilla positioned her doll to face the wall and turned to face her newest Childe. "Grandmummy, there's a gathering and we've been left in the cold, alone. It's not fair. I want to touch the gold and make her bleed." 

Darla stared at the vampire who had turned her with a mixture of affection and disgust. She was sick of having to baby-sit the head case, and Darla was beginning to suspect that Dru wasn't as crazy as she made out. Darla was positive it was a way to keep the attention focused on her, and also made it
easier to not have any responsibilities for looking after herself.   Dru was lazy, manipulative and cruel-- a true childe of Angelus in all her aspects. It had been a long while since the two Aurelian females had spent much time with each other and Darla had suspicions. "Dru honey, why don't you go hunting, a good kill before dawn might put a smile on your face. There must be a few kiddie runaways around here for you to play with?"

"Dawn's green light, oh it calls, the air splitting and naughty delicious worlds tickling at the edges of ours. Such a pretty picture they make."  The slender brunette swayed on her feet and raised her hands into the air, her fingers picking at imaginary pixies around her head.

"Yeah Dru, that's it." Darla sighed and stared at her watch fixedly. She hadn't been near Angel for a couple of days and was getting bored. She liked messing with his mind.  The idiots at the law firm may think that they were in charge, but that was not the way she saw it. Once the visitors from hell
left she could set about screwing her darling boy's soul loose and then they would paint the town red.  

That bratty kid was too observant, she'd nearly caught her a few times and even she could see that there was no killing of the Summers women, not after what her boy had done last time she'd tried. Darla was oblivious to the fact that not only had her cover been blown. But that no matter how many times she seduced Angel his soul wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't Buffy and there was no pure happiness achieved in her bed for Angel, not now nor in the past.  
Oblivious to the sigh of boredom, Drusilla turned to her prettiest dolly and pulled her to her feet. "Come on my sweets, let us go and dance with the living for a little while. My sweet Dianthus will come to me soon, I know it in my heart.  He's only distracted, isn't he?" She turned her bright blue eyes towards Darla, seeking reassurance.

"Sure honey, whatever." Darla tossed the magazine over her shoulder and hooked one of Dru's hands through her arm. "Come on, lets get some dinner." She had learned over the years that distracting Drusilla with a hunt was the easiest way to shut her up.

She wasn't ruling out a sneak past the hotel, either. 

~~~~~~~~

"Where are they?" Glory demanded from her fragrantly scented bubble bath. Around her were several minions of the brown robed variety who where rushing around primping and preening the goddess.

"Oh stupendously stunning one, I don't know." Jinx wrung his scabby hands in distress at letting down his goddess. "Do you want to disembowel me now or after your bath?" He quivered at the exciting thought that maybe his darling goddess's hands might touch him soon. "Shall I go get a knife?" he asked hopefully.

"Really you are the most perfectly adorable sycophant, aren't you, Jinxy baby," Glory cooed as one of her bathers scrubbed between her toes with a tiny sable brush. "No disembowelling for you tonight." She preened at the sigh of disappointment that oozed from her follower. "Now where are they? Ideas, suggestions, wacky theories; I want those two vamps here and chained to the ceiling so I can peel them like an apple.  They are the ones, I know it. They know where my Key is and I am getting tired of waiting. I want to go home and I want this dimension destroyed."

"Well, I am waiting to hear from Pustule.  He is trying to get close to the apartment the vampires are using as a lair.  He's the only one who has enough magicks to try and get through the barriers the witches put up." Jinx scuttled over and handed Glory a champagne flute filled with her favourite cocktail. He used the opportunity to peek into the tub and see if he could adore her naked form. Just a glimpse of her perfectly formed breasts would fuel his fantasies for weeks.

"And? Where is he?" Glory snapped as she held out one hand for it to be cleaned.

As if on cue, there was a timid scratching on the door to her suite.

"Get in here," Glory ordered as she sat up and finally gave Jinx the eyeful he had craved. "You wash my back."

"Oh, thank you my fragrant one." Jinx scurried around and pushed the other fawning followers aside and with a rapturous drooling expression on his face, began to wash Glory's back.

"You." Glory snapped her fingers at the newcomer. "Well? Did you get close enough to find my Key?"

"Nu...no...umm...so...sorry,"  Pustule stammered, unused to having his darling goddess directly addressing him. He flopped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the tiled floor.

"Hope you don't stutter when you spellcast. Could lead to something nasty happening to you." Glory glared at the cringing bundle of unwashed robes. "Hey, then again, it might be an improvement on the original.." She sipped from her mimosa and sighed happily as Jinx rubbed between her shoulder blades,
"So, did you see anything?"

"Va...mm...pires  gone, two mortals in their lair, sleeping. The witch, the new one...and the old man, watches everything," he stammered, keeping his eyes firmly shut and his arms splayed out in front of him in the supplicant position.

Glory's eyes snapped open. "New one? How new?" she demanded.

"Oh Glorficus, I shall discover this information for you, never fear," Jinx babbled as he deliberately dropped the soap and with a happy moan and an all over quiver reached down to search for it in the tub. His questing fingers brushing against her backside. "Ahh.."

~~~~~~~~~

"Come on in." Angel gestured for Buffy to enter his rooms.

She hesitated on the threshold; there was a stink of something in here that made her stomach curdle. "I...um...can we go somewhere else?" She took a step back from the smell of Angel getting a happy. She may be newly turned, but even she knew the scent of sex. There was no way she was going to his room, the place where he eww...with the hand and the lotion...ick. Buffy shuddered and scooted down the hallway.

"Buffy," Angel sighed in exasperation. Mistakenly thinking she was avoiding talking to him, he lost control of his patience and growled.

Buffy's nose wrinkled, as she skipped backwards. "Not gonna work, Mr Growly pants.  If you wanna talk then we do it somewhere else. I can smell waaay to much in there, and yucksville!"

"What, you can smell Darla?" Angel blinked in surprise. She hadn't been turned when she met Darla and shouldn't have been able to recognise the scent of her fellow Aurelian.

"What? No, I smelled...you know." Buffy made gestures with her hand.

Angel's eyes widened as understanding blossomed. "Oh, right...Buffy! There are some things you really need to learn about vampire etiquette and that is one of them-- amongst others."

Buffy ignored him, her mind still stuck on his previous comment. "Darla? But she's dead.  You killed her. You did, didn't you?" she asked suspiciously, wondering if maybe she'd been played that night in the Bronze.

"Yes I did, Buffy.  And yes, she was dead.  Some law firm brought her back; she got ill and asked me to vamp her."

"You did it, right? You turned that hobag! Man, that is all kinds of weird, you Siring your Sire. I bet Freud would've loved that," Buffy babbled nervously. Were they sure that Angel had a soul still?

"What? No I didn't, Dru turned her. I think," Angel answered irritably. "And yes, I do have my soul," he answered her unasked question without pause, the irritation beginning to increase.

"You think? And Dru is hanging around here, near Mom and Dawnie?" Buffy snapped. She'd sent her family here to be safe-- not to be Dru-food. "Are you sure you have a soul?"

"Your family are safe, I swear. No Dru or Darla on my watch...anymore... and yes, I am sure I have a soul." Angel tried to placate her; he refrained from adding that if he had been soulless then her silly questions would've been all the trigger that Angelus needed to rip out her heart. 

"Right." Buffy's mind was a whirl trying to plot her next course of action. "So what did you want to discuss, oh Wise One?  Vampiric lore to impart to the fledgling, I guess?" Buffy's eyes were serious as she watched Angel do his cat on a hot tin roof impersonation. She had already decided that there was
no way mom and Dawn were staying at Angel's, not if Dru and Darla were around. They might be family now, but Buffy knew that they would destroy her mortal family the first chance they got. And there was no way that was happening on her watch. The only way she would leave her mom and Dawn here was if there were two piles of shebitch dust at her feet..

"Here." Angel opened his office door; while they had been talking he had guided them to his office. "Sit down."

Buffy perched on the edge of one chair facing the desk and watched as Angel sat in his leather desk chair with a groan. She stopped breathing; the scent of Cordy's strong perfume was grossing her out.

"Buffy, we need to talk." Angel clasped his hands together and leant forward with an earnest look on his face. "You do realise that under all the leather and bleach, Spike is essentially a romantic with very Victorian ideals."

"Oh," Buffy mentally curled in on herself in utter humiliation that she was having the 'talk' with Angel of all people. She doesn't understand yet though, does she? She frowned at Angel, wondering why he was the one, seeing that he hated Spike with a fiery vengeance. Yet here he was mediating. "I don't get why you're doing this?" slipped out before she could stop herself.  

Angel stared at his fingernails and tried not to sigh too deeply.  He had not been able to say no to Joyce, Dawn and Anya – and here he was. Playing cupid and trying to fix everything up for Spike to steal away his true love. He hunched his shoulders and fiddled with a hangnail. "You're family."  The broody vampire opted for Anya's suggestion for a reason and deftly avoided the whole Joyce and the motherly blackmail bit.  

"But you bit him," Buffy whispered. "FYI, that was sooo lame," she added.  

"Well...yeah...but—" Angel tried to hide his humiliation, resorting to gnawing on his grandchilde's side was high on the embarrassment scale.  He was very glad Wes and the others had missed the entire incident. "Look, the reason Spike freaked about the claim—" His manly restraint stopped him from sobbing 'why?' at Buffy and blurted out the rest of his speech. "He rejected the claim because he was worried that it wasn't for love and was instead to make yourself feel better after seeing Dracula. He was also worried that maybe you don't love him for himself, but love him only because he is your sire." Angel closed his eyes.  He'd said it all and now he wanted to go out and kill a lot of demons, get drunk and then lose himself.  

Buffy's eyes widened.  She sat there listening to what she guessed was the longest speech Angel had ever made to her. And probably the most significant one in her life. Buffy was glad she was a vamp, otherwise she would be bright red and hyperventilating on the spot. She dropped her head, letting her hair cover her face and her restless fingers toyed with the ties of her mom's robe.  

"Buffy? Did you hear me?" Angel frowned and leant forward, trying to attract her attention.  

She nodded her head and tried to make herself as tiny as possible, curling her legs up under her. Under the cover of her blonde tresses she glanced at the door, calculating the distance, wondering if she could leap out of the room in one stride. She wanted to go to Spike and hold him.  She also wanted to run out of the hotel and avoid seeing anyone ever again. "I didn't realise I'd messed up until it was too late and then, well..."  

"You did an impersonation of a hedgehog?" Angel asked gently with s small smile on his lips.  

"Huh?" Buffy frowned in confusion.  

"Curled up into a prickly ball and attacked if anyone tried to get too close?" Angel teased.  

Buffy looked up, her hazel eyes flecked with violet. "Yeah, something like that.  Man, the way I freaked at everyone...and then running to mom—" she trailed off and fiddled with her nails.  

Angel jumped slightly in surprise.  He'd thought she'd come to see him. "Your mom, right." He sighed again.  

"Yeah, she makes everything feel better.  You know what mom's are like," she explained with a rueful smile.  

Angel stopped himself from answering.  His mother was a distant memory to him now, and the only thing he remembered was the sensation of his fangs sliding into her neck. "Look, we need to talk about vampiric traits and practises. I guess Spike hasn't had time, what with the problems in Sunnydale?"  

Buffy's eyes flickered to the door again and she then braced herself and turned to smile at Angel.  

"Buffy, did you hear me?" Angel stared at the glazed expression on her face with resignation. 'This was not gonna be fun...'

~~~~~~~~

Spike pressed his ear against the door and strained to hear what was being said.  It was driving him nuts being patient. It made his teeth ache. But all of them had been insistent that Buffy had to understand her mistake and he wasn't allowed to cave. Joyce had hemmed and hawed over the sex angle, liking to imagine that her daughter was still a virgin despite everything.

The other women had begun to fire questions at him, after Buffy had run out of the kitchen-- run away from him.

Again.

Eventually Joyce had clapped her hands to stop Dawn and Anya's excited babble and had given him a look that reminded him of the time he had first slapped eyes on her. Spike had checked her environs for the presence of an axe and then looked back up at her compassionate eyes. She'd uttered his favourite words, hot chocolate. It was like magic-- all of them had sat down and shut up, waiting for the chocolaty treat. All the while Anya kept a firm grip on his arm, stopping him from following after Buffy. Eventually, they had managed to get him to not be the one to go after her. Instead, Joyce and Anya had intimidated Angel into it. Dawn had shown Spike to a room and told him to sleep off the alcohol and to let her mom fix it.

And now he was wondering what the hell he was on. Peaches put in a good word for him. Never imagined it in his entire unlife. Spike could feel the knife being slammed into his back over and over by the git who sired his Dru. He really did wonder about his own sanity, trusting everything to Angelus? 

"You know that I will have to injure you if you try to leave?"

Spike's shoulders slumped and he paused mid-pace. He turned to face his not so silent observer. "Promise not to gnaw at my side like a sissy fighter?" He pouted for good measure.

"Don't be such a baby," Anya admonished. She carried on painting her toenails, ignoring the imploring look Spike tossed her way. She was on the balcony perched on a lounger, having personally appointed herself Spike watcher for the night. "Yeah, what was all that about? Angel using you for a chew toy. I would've thought that he would be a little more manly than that." 

"I think he broke. Glad I puked on him, though." Spike smirked at the memory. "Wish I'd had a camera; that's one for the Aurelian annuls." He looked over at the door and mentally calculated how quickly he could get out there and find Buffy.

"Don't even bother, you know that Joyce is probably on the other side waiting with an axe." Anya dabbed a bit of polish on her little toenail.

Spike turned to her with big eyes and tried to look as innocent as he could. "This isn't gonna work, you know," he whined, mentally wincing at the sound.

"I trust Joyce. She knows her daughter better than any of us." Anya held up her hand to forestall his moan. "Yes, she does.  Even if you know Buffy in the biblical sense, a mother knows the workings of their child's mind. They have to in order to outwit them, so continue pacing and kicking inanimate objects with your bare feet. I imagine the pain distracts you slightly? Or does it turn you on?" Anya frowned in thought and blew on her shiny freshly painted toenails

"Your brain works in a very different way, Demon Girl." Spike stared down at his big toe and watched as it began to swell. "I like it."

"Thank you!" Anya chirped. She capped the polish bottle and gave it a good shake. "Now come and sit down so I can paint yours. I think this pale pink will compliment your colouring far better than that icky black stuff you use."

********

"Huh?"

Angel glanced up at Buffy and wondered why she was frowning at him. "Buffy, you do realise that you hurt his feelings?"

"I know.  I just don't get."

Angel sighed. He wanted to run screaming from the room, but the memory of Joyce's stern eyes kept him there. "Look, you have to read this."  He chickened out and reached behind him for a worn tome that Wes had left in the office. "Here, read this. I'll sit here and wait; if you have any questions, just ask." If he could've he would've been blushing.

Buffy stared down at the thin leather bound book resting in her unresisting hands. Her fingers traced the worn gilded lettering. 'A Brief Summary of the Mating Practises of the Vampyre By I. Bytes.' 

Angel reached into his desk and pulled out some paperwork and busied himself with the accounts, mentally hearing Cordy berating him for being a baby and not talking.

"Oh, thanks." Buffy stared at the book, wondering if she looked that sad and desperate. Instead, she opened it and began to read.

*********

"If he's making a move on her, I will kill him," Spike muttered as he discretely cleaned off the polish and then sat on his shaking hands to keep them away from Anya. He had no idea why he'd agreed to Joyce's plan, but as the minutes ticked past the more worried he became. Anya had confiscated the
battered pack of cigarettes he'd found in his duster with a disapproving tut and then continued to file his nails. So he didn't have the nicotine fix to calm him.  Instead, his nerve endings were strung tight by the sound of her emery board rasping back and forth. .

"Humph, as if she'd betray you." Anya leaned back on the lounger and stared up at the smog filled night sky. "Don't you miss the clean air, and the clarity in which you could see the constellations back in the day?"

Giving in to her, Spike looked up at the sky and nodded. "Yeah."

"Spike, it'll be okay. Joyce has a sound plan." Anya reached over and patted him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, she does, but Peaches is the one I'm worried about.  S'not normal for me to be relying on the likes of him to sort out m'love life.  He's the one that usually wrecks it."

"And can you think of anything better to torment him with than this?" Anya smiled pertly.

Spike's jaw dropped at the truly wicked machinations of Joyce. "Christ, she's a canny one, isn't she?"

"Took you long enough to realise it, Spike.  She never really forgave him for breaking Buffy's heart the way he did. Must say, Joyce would make an excellent vengeance demon." Anya giggled.

"Yeah," Spike nodded, then lay back on the lounger and tucked his hands behind his head.

"And if it all goes to plan, Angel will have put Buffy onto the right track and you and she can unlive happily every after.  He'll be depressed because it will have been his actions that reunited you, and we can go home. Well, once we get rid of Glory and save the day."

Spike smirked.  He made a mental note to buy Joyce a really nice pressie for her subtle manoeuvrings. "Thought she would've been a bit more civil to granddad after the blinding torment and whatnot to save her?"

"Yes, but she is a mother first and foremost, so is very protective of Buffy and Dawn," Anya supplied.

Spike smiled and shivered happily at the thought of Angel in knots trying to explain about sex and vampires-- 'as if he's had much practice recently.'

********

Buffy turned the book sideways and frowned at the very detailed engraving. She tried to ignore the shuffling of papers on the desk, not wanting to look up at Angel and see the morose expression on his face.

"Well, any questions?"

Buffy closed the book with a sigh. Unable to resist teasing her Great-Grande sire, she put on her best blonde expression and pointed to a picture.  "Where did he put his?"

Angel sighed.  He seemed to be doing that a lot more since Spike and the others had arrived to invade his sanctuary. "Buffy."  His voice held a warning note.

She smiled impishly. "Sorry."

"Look, I really don't want to be the one to—"

"Yeah, I know Angel.  How come you're here with the books and the talking?" Buffy interrupted before he said 'sex talk', 'cause there was no way that this wasn't embarrassing.'  

"Joyce felt it was better coming from me rather than anyone else.  That girl Anya volunteered, but I think Joyce was concerned about what she would say." Angel risked a look at the pale beauty curled up on the chair before him. "She is kind of frank, isn't she?"

Buffy smiled gently. "Yeah, but we love her for it."

Angel cleared his throat nervously. "So look, about what happened with Spike.  Do you have any questions, or did the book help?" He gestured to the slender volume Buffy was clutching to her chest.

"It helped.  You're not enjoying this anymore that I am, are you?" Buffy sighed.

Angel shook his head. "It hurts," he explained.

"I know, Angel.  But you realise that we were destined to fail, even before it started." Buffy's candid admission surprised her, but it also lifted a huge weight off her conscience

Angel stared at her in surprise at her maturity. "I...uh."   

Something inside him broke.  The ache that had started the day he left Buffy suddenly mushroomed at her mature realisation that their relationship had been doomed from the moment they'd met in that alley behind the Bronze. The pain that radiated out from his heart made him blanche.  His fingers dug into the wood of the desk as he gripped it, trying to anchor himself as the waves of agony buffeted him. He inhaled sharply as a feeling of utter hopelessness shot through his big form. It was over. The Buffy and Angel angstorama-- as Cordy called it-- was really over.  Here he was, acting as a vampiric Dr Ruth for Buffy and fixing her up with Spike of all people. He wanted to rip out his soul with his bare hands, anything to spare him the pain of that realisation.

"Angel?" Her voice still held that breathy quality when she said his name.

"Sorry.  Um...so—" He stared down at his white knuckles and felt his nails break as they dug into the wood.

Buffy leaned over, inadvertently giving him a birds eye view of forbidden territory.  He gasped. "Look, you need to go to him...now...please.  Just go and talk, now you've read that I think you know why, right?"

"Yeah." Buffy stood and then smiled, unaware of the morass of despair that Angel was mired in. Her mind and body were totally focussed on Spike. She trotted around and brushed lips against his rigid cheek. "Thank you for this."

Angel watched her leave.

Watched her go to Spike.

Watched her leave him behind in the shadows. Alone.

It was his fault she was going.  He gritted his teeth, stopping himself from calling out to her, calling her back to him. She wasn't his girl anymore.  Not now, not since that day when he'd thrown it all away and asked for the clocks to be turned back.

Buffy didn't love him anymore.

She was leaving him behind and going to Spike.

All the while mentally railing at the unfairness of it all. He was the one setting her onto the path. The self same path he'd stepped off, one that would lead to eternal consummation of her love for Spike. Not him.

'God it hurts.' 

Angel crumpled forward on his desk and sobbed. It hurt too much; he needed to make it stop. There was a faint click and he froze.  

"What do you want, Darla?" he growled.  

"Man, that wasn't a barrel of laughs, you playing at being the head Poobah to the newest fledge of the family." Darla leant in the doorway, her body backlit and her lips curled into what she considered a fetching smile. "Though I will have to stake Spike for having the poor taste to turn that skanky little slayer," she added maliciously.  

"Leave her out of your mind games," Angel growled.                        

Darla raised a perfectly plucked brow. "Oh, so my darling boy finally realised he wasn't dreaming?" She giggled and ran her hands over her hips. "Have to say, it was getting boring doing all the work."  

Angel stood and stared at the blonde woman who had for centuries been his reason for existence. He was tired of fighting, tired of being who he was.  He wanted to be free – wanted to rest.  

"What do you want, honey?" Darla sensed a shift in her boy.  After all their years together she could read him like a book, even with that disgusting soul.  

Angel stared at her, his face inscrutable. Then he moved around his desk so fast that Darla gasped in surprise. He grabbed her arm and pushed her, sending Darla stumbling into the wall. "I asked, what did you want? To gloat about my misery?" he demanded angrily. Darla stared up at him.  She licked her  bloodied lips and then grinned.

"Or, maybe what you really want is this?" He pushed her against the wall and gently brushed her hair back from her face." Leaning in he kissed her softly, his tongue tracing the familiar lines of her mouth. "That maybe what you really want?" He kissed her again, in an instant deciding it would be easier without his soul and deciding to lose it in her.  

Darla froze under his tender ministration and then pushed him away. "Don't play games with me," she cried out, wiping her lips with the back of her shaking hand.  

"I'm not playing.  I just wanna feel something besides the cold." He lifted her unresisting body and laid her on his desk, one hand pushing away the papers and lamp which landed on the floor with a clatter. He had sent Buffy to Spike.  The thought circled in his head and was the only thing on his mind as he leant into kiss Darla again. 

Darla reached up for her angelic boy, her legs dropping loosely, cradling his hips against her throbbing centre. Content at last, in a few short minutes her boy would be back and they could paint the town red. She silently thanked Dru for sending her to Daddy.  Somehow the loon had known that this was the perfect time to strike, the ideal time to get Angelus back into the game.  

Angel pushed her back onto the desk and lowered himself on top of her with a grunt, leaning down he licked at her open mouth. Darla reached between their torsos and ripped his shirt open.  With a sigh she bent her head, her sharp teeth biting at a brown nub. Angel threw his head back and hissed through his teeth. Darla began to laugh in delight, realising that finally she was getting her way and this time without magic or any powders the lawyers had given her.  

Angel pulled back angrily. "Why're you laughing?"  

Darla continued to giggle.  Not answering him, she licked her way up his chest and then nipped at his throat in the same place that she had bitten him that first time in the alley behind the pub.  

Angel ground his teeth, incensed that she was laughing at him. Straightening he pulled away from her clutches and hit her, sending her crashing to the floor.  He loomed over her as Darla rolled over and looked up at him.  Her fingers pressed to her lower lip, trying to stem the blood. She recognised the look in his eyes and kept quiet.  

"Don't you feel the cold?" Angel knelt down and grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard.

"What're you doing?" Darla whispered, fear tainting her high-pitched voice. 

"It doesn't matter." Angel stroked the side of her face. "None of it matters anymore.  She's gone to him," he kissed her again and Darla responded eagerly, each tearing the other's clothes off.  

Both vampires with the same goal in mind – to get rid of a soul.

tbc...

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