Lost In Time

by SpikesKat

Chapter 1

Spike slowly advanced on Buffy – the “pre-Victorian era” Buffy that had no earthly idea that she was the slayer, “The Chosen One” – as she backed away from him, frightened, her body trembling.

“Look at you. Shaking. Terrified. Alone. Lost little lamb,” Spike taunted.

Buffy stumbled into a wooden crate, her means of escape from the monster slowly advancing on her abruptly cut off.  Spike moved in for the kill, feeding on the slayer’s fear.  Wanting to feel more, he suddenly backhanded her.  Tears quickly sprung to her eyes, wider still as she looked at the demon before her.

“I love it!” he announces to the room at large.

In the corner, Angel struggled against the two small demons holding him captive.

“Buffy!” he cried, helpless to come to her aid.

Spike slipped his hand around the slayer’s throat, bending her backwards over the crate.  Buffy just gazed up at him, her hazel orbs shiny with unshed tears.   Spike removed his hand from her throat, knowing instinctively that Buffy was too frightened to do anything but accept her fate.  He lifted his hand to trail softly down her face before fisting it in her hair and yanking her head to the side.  He leaned down and slowly sunk his fangs into her neck.

The first taste of her blood as it slid down his throat had his cock hardening against his tight jeans.  ‘Ah… slayer’s blood…the best aphrodisiac around.’   He took one long pull of her blood and then his world shifted beneath his feet and darkness overcame him.

Buffy watched, unable to move, as the vampire removed his hand from her neck to trail softly down her face.  She was too frightened to dare reproach him for being so familiar with her person.  She sensed her death at this demon’s hands and she was helpless to do anything to stop him.  Resigned to her fate, she felt her head yanked to the side and watched as his fangs lowered to her neck.  Closing her eyes and whispering a fervent prayer that her end would be quick, she waited, paralyzed, for his elongated teeth to penetrate her skin and end her mortal existence. 

She was surprised at the gentleness of the bite, as if the act was an event to be cherished.  As if she, this demon’s victim, was being honored in her last moments of life.  Her fear gave way as the first stirrings of… something…she wasn’t quite sure what, exactly, made themselves known in her body.  She could practically hear the blood pounding in her veins.  And, she was aghast to feel a sudden throbbing begin at her woman’s core. ‘I’m going to hell,’ she thought as her eyes fluttered closed and the blackness enveloped her.

~*~

Giles kicked the sprawled figure of Ethan again in the ribs.

“Now tell me how to stop the spell.”

“Janus.  Break its statue,” Ethan croaked out.

Giles turned away from him and walked over towards the statue sitting on the table.   So engrossed in his task, he didn’t hear Ethan’s muttered words before he lifted the figurine over his head and threw it to the ground.  Giles paid no mind to Ethan who had a slight grin played about his face, as he hurriedly left the man’s house to see how his slayer was faring.

~*~

Angel looked to the spot where moments before both Spike and Buffy stood leaning against the crate – Spike’s fangs piercing Buffy’s neck so that the scent of her blood permeated the air.  Now the space was vacant, no hint of either of the two could be found.  He pushed himself away from the now-frightened children, the little demons that were holding him captive having reverted back to their true nature; apparently Giles had found Ethan to revert the spell.  The only problem was: where was Buffy, and for that matter, Spike?

“Buffy?” Angel called out into the warehouse.  The sound of his voice echoed in the near empty building.

Xander shook away the cobwebs clouding his mind as he heard Angel frantically calling Buffy’s name.  The children standing around him were looking at him in confusion. He glanced over to where Buffy last stood, held prisoner by Spike.  His soldier’s mind registered her being there just a moment ago, but in a blinding flash, both she and Spike had disappeared.

The children were desperately trying to get his attention, their whispered cries for “Mommy” and “Daddy” joining in with their ever-increasing sobs.   Some were even trying to get his attention by pulling on his pants leg.   Turning away from where Angel stood, he glanced down at the children surrounding him.

“It’s ok, we’ll find your parents real soon, ok?” he told the kids, ruffling the hair on the heads of a few to get them to calm down.

“Xander?” Cordelia called to him hesitantly. 

“I don’t know Cordelia.  I guess whatever spell we were under was suddenly broken…” his voice trailed off.

“But, what about Buffy?  Where is she?  I saw her standing over there just a moment ago, and now she’s gone.”

Xander sighed; he didn’t know what to tell her. “I don’t know Cordelia.”   Turning to Angel, he called out, “Anything?”

Angel looked up from where he was trying to catch Buffy’s scent.  It was like she just disappeared.  Her and Spike.  One minute they were there, the next, nothing.  Like they just vanished.

“Well, I need to get these kids back to their parents.  Cordy, why don’t you come with… then we’ll all meet back up at Giles’?”

Angel just nodded, turning back to try and find a trace of either Spike’s or Buffy’s scent.  Xander and Cordelia, along with about ten children wearing Halloween costumes, left the warehouse to return to the high school to find the children’s parents.

                                                                                                                   ~*~

Spike woke to what sounded suspiciously like a carriage resounding in his ears.  In his groggy state, he realized that he was sprawled out on his back on the ground, in an alley from the smells assaulting his nose.  Curled against his side, an arm draped possessively across his chest, lay a woman… human at that.  ‘What the bloody hell?’  Lifting his head off the ground, he tried to make out her features.  The sharp pain that reverberated through his head had him muttering a curse and flopping back against the stone floor.  Stone?  Since when did Sunnyhell have stone-covered streets?

He pushed aside that thought for now and tried to concentrate on the female lying so trustingly in his arms.  He could smell his scent on her; yet, she was still human – and alive at that.  He tried to remember the last thing that had happened before he apparently passed out.  The gray of his mind slowly cleared as fuzzy images sprung up before him.

The slayer, only not the slayer, running from him.

Children made demon, probably due to someone’s magic.

His hand wrapped around the slayer’s throat.  Fingers trailing down her face.   His hand fisting in her hair, yanking her head to the side to expose her virgin neck.

The taste of her blood.  Sweet ambrosia coursing down his throat.

Darkness.

Obviously someone must have interrupted his feeding.  But that made no sense.   Why would he still be alive?

A soft moan from his would-be new companion brought him out of his silent musings.

“Ohhhh… my head,” she groaned softly.  She attempted to sit up, but like Spike, the pain obviously had her changing her mind.

As the pain in his head started to recede, Spike was able to concentrate more on the smells around him – specifically the woman currently cuddled close to his side.   Soft tendrils of vanilla drifted to him through the overpowering stench of urine and stale food.
He tried once again to lift his head, his demon features sliding to the fore to be better able to see in the dark, and he made out a red gown.  Her face was buried against his chest but he noticed she had long, brown hair. 

Surprising himself with his gentleness, he put his hand under her chin to lift her head slightly to meet his gaze.  Her eyes were still closed as she attempted to block out the pain in her head, but Spike would recognize those features anywhere.  Slayer!   What the bloody hell was going on?

Allowing her head to slip back down to his chest, he stretched his senses outward, trying to make out the sounds and smells slowly drifting back to him.

Sea air.

Women calling out with… invitations?  Male words drunkenly slurred.   Sailors?

English-accented voices. 

Food.  Ale.  Arousal.

Ok… from the sounds and smells, it sounded like they were in England. Probably near the docks.  But how?  He pushed that thought aside for now, once more concentrating.

Animals…horses?  Wheels…wooden…turning over cobblestone.   Carriages?

Now he was really confused.  He refused to believe what his mind told him the sounds reverberating through his head might mean.  Easing out of the slayer’s arms – at which she groaned unhappily – his slowly made his way to his feet.   Half stumbling to the end of the alley, he peered around the corner.

His jaw dropped in astonishment.

“No bloody fuckin’ way,” he whispered softly.

Yet, he couldn’t deny what was before his eyes.

Somehow, he and the slayer had managed to slip back in time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 2

Spike gaped, slack jawed, as several hacks wheeled up and down the lane.  Sailors lurched drunkenly towards their destinations, some aided by the help of their equally drunken companions. 

Spike pulled back into the darkness of the alley before he caught the eye of any passersby.  It wouldn’t do for him to be noticed by someone in what he was wearing.  They would take one look at him and mark him for an evil demon.

Well, they would be right on that score, but that was beside the point.

Twirling around with a swish of his leather duster, he strode back to where the slayer was slowly coming to.  Before he reached the moaning girl as she valiantly struggled to pull herself upright, Spike caught a whiff of someone…or, something.

“Come out of the shadows, mate.  I know you’re there.”  His eyes briefly flashed yellow in annoyance. He didn’t know how the creature had managed to get past him at the entrance to the alley, but he was damn sure aware of his presence now. Pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his duster, he took one out and lit it, the tip glowing red as he took a long pull.

After a few moments of waiting, he watched as a man stepped away from his hiding place against the wall.  About the same height and build as Spike, the dark-haired man was dressed in a similar fashion…well, twenty-first century clothing, anyway.  No one could pull off Spike’s choice of attire.  Garbed in a brown leather bomber jacket, red button-down shirt, jeans, and boots, the man was as much out of place as both Spike and the slayer appeared to be. 

“Who are you and what the bloody hell are you doing here?  For that matter, what are we doing here?” Spike asked the newcomer.  He sniffed the air and added, “And, what are you…from the smell, you’re not entirely human.”

“Doyle’s the name,” he said with a decidedly Irish brogue.  “And, I’m only half human.  Other half’s Bracken demon.” Spike watched as Doyle’s human face slid away to reveal that of a beast with red eyes and a green-tinged face that had spikes protruding from every available facial surface.

“I’m here because the PTB’s sent me,” he added as his human mask slid back into place.

“Huh? Wanna run that by me again…PTB?  What the fuck is that?”

“PTB…Powers That Be…” he started to explain.

“Oh, that’s just fucking great!” Spike cut him off.  Hearing about the “higher” powers caused him to start pacing up and down the alley, his agitation clearly evident. “What the hell do these ‘Powers’ want with me?  All I was doing was draining the bitch.  And, hey, vampire here…’s what were supposed to do!”

“Yeah, about that.  If you ever want to get back to your time, I suggest you might want to refrain from ‘draining the bitch’ as you so delicately put it.   You’re gonna need her.  You see, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, mate!”

“You’re here because Ethan Rayne called upon Janus to cast a spell that temporarily changed people into the costumes they wore.  But, somehow, before the spell was reversed, Ethan cast a different spell sending the slayer back to the time period of her costume.”

“Damn well figured out that part, what with the bloody carriages and all…” Spike muttered.  Doyle ignored the vampire’s sarcasm and continued with his explanation.

“Well, you’re here along with the slayer because at the moment the spell was cast, you were taking a bite out of her…remember?  So, not only was the slayer transported…you went along for the ride too.”

“That’s just bloody great!” he yelled sarcastically. Lowering his voice so as not to draw attention to them why they argued in the alley, he hissed, “So, how the hell do I get out of this place?”

“That’s just it…we, that is, they…the PTBs, aren’t sure yet.   Right now they’re leaving it up to the slayer’s watcher to find the solution.  The ‘Powers’ don’t want to mess with fate anymore than they already have by sending me here.”

“So, just what the hell am I supposed to do while those wankers back home try to come up with a plan?  And just when the hell are we?”

“When, is England circa 1775.  What you’re supposed to do…well,” Doyle began pointing down to Buffy as she finally managed to sit up, a dazed expression on her face. “Meet your new best friend.”

Spike stopped his pacing to stare at the man/demon standing before him.  He flicked his cigarette away and advanced on Doyle.

Grabbing him by the lapels of his leather bomber, he pulled him forward so that their faces were within a hairsbreadth of each other.  “You’re saying I’ve got to keep her with me?  I’m not the bloody bint’s babysitter.   ‘Sides, when she gets herself together she’s gonna be coming after me, and not because she wants to invite me to tea either.  She’s gonna have a bloody stake in her hand aimed straight at my chest.”

“Well…” he began, but was cut off by the slayer’s next words.   Both men turned to look at her. 

Sitting on the ground, her smudged red skirts fanned out about her, the slayer put her hand to her head.  The two watched her face as she slowly realized she was sitting in some dank alley, the smell of rotten food and such assaulting her nostrils.  She looked about ready to swoon.

Releasing Doyle, Spike walked over to her, crouching down beside her.

“Slayer, you’re not going to faint on me, are ya?”

She lifted wide, luminous hazel eyes to him.  A gasp escaped her lips as she realized that this was the monster that had been about to kill her.  She tried to scream, but he covered her mouth with his hand before she was able to make a sound.

The fear in her eyes surprised Spike and his demon momentarily reveled in the emotion before Spike was able to tamp it down. 

If anything, the slayer should be spitting mad. The thought had him slightly worried. He glanced back at Doyle to see if the half-demon could enlighten him as to what was going on.  A confused shrug was his only answer.

Turning back to the slayer, he said more softly than he intended, “I’ll take my hand away if you promise not to scream, ok?”

She nodded behind his hand, eyes wide as her gaze darted between him and Doyle.

“Now, slayer, what’s the last thing you remember,” Spike asked.

“Slayer?” she asked.  “Why do you persist on calling me slayer?”

Spike stared at her in astonishment.  Surely she couldn’t still be--

“Oh, that’s just bloody great!” he roared, his gaze turning to Doyle.   “Not only do I have to tie myself to the slayer for God knows how long. But, she has no fucking idea who she is?”  He stood up from his crouch to once more resume his pacing.

The “monster’s” sudden rage caused her to shrink away from him, cowering amongst the garbage that littered the alley.  She was trying to bring as little attention to herself as possible, even if the thought of cowering in an alley – let alone, without a proper chaperone – was offending her tender sensibilities. 

“Well, that’s something we hadn’t planned on,” Doyle announced, somewhat ruefully.

“Hadn’t planned on?  Hadn’t planned on?!” 

Spike stared at Doyle in disbelief. 

“Well, that is to say, the ‘Powers’ didn’t realize that the slayer would still be without her memories.  Maybe they’ll come back with time?”

“With time? Maybe? Bloody hell!  Even as the slayer, it would be difficult to keep her alive in this time period.  Her advanced notions wouldn’t exactly go over too well here.”

“Which could be a good thing,” Doyle pointed out, hurriedly.  Before Spike had a chance to interrupt him again, he went on, “Look at it this way: for all she knows, she’s an English gentle-born lady from 1775.  Her being true to character will go a long way towards making this situation bearable for the two of you.”

Spike just stared at Doyle like he had lost his mind.

“Just where the hell am I supposed to take her?  I’m a vampire. I can adapt well enough.  But her? She’s human, and the slayer to boot!  They’d take one look at her and see their next meal.  Then, I’d be stuck here.”

“So, claim her,” Doyle reasoned.

“Are you off your bloody rocker?” Spike roared, horrified at the notion.   “Claim the slayer?”

“Claiming her would ensure that the other vampires wouldn’t touch her.  She’d be under your protection.  Besides, we have no idea how long you two are going to be, er…stuck here.”

“Huh… wanna run that by me again, mate?”

“We, uh, aren’t sure how long you’re gonna be stuck here.  So, claiming the slayer is a win-win situation.  It affords her protection and it keeps her alive.”

Spike turned to look at the cowering woman before him. He glanced back at Doyle and narrowed his eyes.

Resigned, but still resisting till the bitter end, he mumbled, “Claiming is a personal thing.  It shouldn’t be forced on a bloke.”

At that, Doyle snorted.  “Don’t tell me you don’t find her attractive.”   With a wave of his hand, he showed an image of her dancing at the Bronze.   Spike remembered the scene; he had gotten hard just looking at the bint as she swayed wantonly to the music, arms above her head while she closed her eyes and allowed the beat to wrap itself around her body.

“Ok, ok…you can turn off the bloody movie.”  Another wave of Doyle’s hand and the picture disappeared.  Pulling out his pack of cigarettes once more, Spike lit another as he watched Doyle cross to the slayer and kneel down beside her.

“Good evening, miss,” Doyle said in his most proper voice. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Surely I mustn’t.  We’ve not been properly introduced,” she replied, her tone frightened, but still trying to maintain some type of proper decorum.

“Right,” he said, coming to his feet.  Affecting a formal bow he announced, “Lord Allen Francis Doyle, Viscount Tellidyne, at your service, Miss.  Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

From his spot of leaning up against the wall, Spike just rolled his eyes.  But, if the half-demon could get the slayer a little less gun-shy around him – all the better.  Although, after the claiming it wouldn’t really matter.  She’d cling to him like her life depended on it.  Just the thought of it had him adjusting himself inside his jeans. 

He watched as Doyle held out his hand to the slayer, who graciously took it.  Rising to her feet as if it were a common everyday occurrence to find herself in an alley with two men she did not know, Buffy released his hand and attempted to brush the dirt and grime from her skirts as best she could.

As satisfied as she could be with the state of her dress, she addressed the man that had just introduced himself.  With a quick grab of her skirts, she affected a slight curtsey replying, “Lady Elizabeth Anne Summers.  And, the honor is all mine.”

“Lady Summers,” Doyle began gesturing to Spike, “My friend, Lord William Thornton, Earl of Arundel.”  Elizabeth looked briefly at the monster being introduced to her, her hand unconsciously drifting over the closed bite marks on her neck.   Her eyes shut briefly as a feeling she couldn’t describe suddenly overwhelmed her.  Biting back a moan, she opened her eyes and tried to concentrate on what Lord Doyle was saying.

“…stay with him until your family can be located.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Doyle.  What did you just say?”  She blushed profusely at being caught daydreaming, and over such a shamefully sinful sensation.   She was going to hell; she just knew it.  And, it was entirely that blue-eyed monster’s fault.

“I said that you would be under his protection, as his ward until your family can be located.  It will all be quite proper.”

“But, uh…” She trailed off abruptly, refusing to sound like an unschooled chit before the Viscount. ‘Lord Thornton’s ward? Were they crazy?’   Brushing those thoughts aside, Elizabeth concentrated once more on what Lord Doyle was saying.

“For tonight, we will have to tuck you away in one of the rooms here.  This will allow us to obtain suitable attire for your person and find a temporary lady’s maid.   As long as you remain behind your locked door and don’t answer it except for myself or Lord Thornton, you should be perfectly safe.”

The thought of a bed to lie on was music to Elizabeth’s ears, and she nodded eagerly.   Turning away from the slayer, Doyle addressed the blond vampire.

“Stay here with her while I secure you a room. When I whistle, meet me at the back entrance and you two can slip up to your room without any notice.  Then, once she’s locked in for the night, we can see about getting you both some proper clothes.”

Spike looked down at the clothes he had become attached to the last several years.   His mind drifted back over what he used to wear in his human days.

“Bloody hell…” 

Traveling back in time had just turned into his own version of hell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 3

The faint whistle was loud enough for Spike to hear yet not attract attention.   Vampiric hearing was a useful gift sometimes.  Grabbing the slayer’s hand, he hauled her to her feet.

“Come on, luv.  Time to go.”

She didn’t bother to correct his forwardness; the thought of a warm bed – even if it was in some seaside tavern – stilled any retort she might have made.  She attempted to shake off his hold once she was on her feet, but his hand just tightened harder around hers.

“Stay close, pet.  Lotsa’ things that go bump in the night are about.   Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, now would we?”

Her eyes widened at his casually spoken words, and the vigorous shake of her head confirmed that… no, she didn’t want to be some monster’s next meal.   It was bad enough she was stuck with this one…although, better the one you know, right?

Spike pulled her after him, quickly making their way to the end of the alley.  He peeked his head out, scanning the street for any sign that someone might be paying them the slightest bit of attention.  The few stragglers meandering down the street were either too drunk or too busy engaging in chatter to pay them any notice. 

Gripping her hand a little tighter in his, Spike practically dragged her as they raced down the street before dipping into the next alley that had the back entrance to the tavern.  He could hear the slayer as she stumble along behind him, gasping at the slight pain of his grip as he held her hand in his.

“What took you so long?” Doyle whispered as the two closed in on him.   Spike just gave him a pointed look.

“Trying not to draw attention here, mate.”

Doyle nodded and stepped back, allowing Spike and Buffy to slip upstairs unnoticed by the tavern patrons.

“First door on the right.  It’s already open,” he whispered as they passed him, his eyes watching the occupants of the tavern.

Spike hurried up the stairs pulling a frazzled slayer behind him.  She tripped over her skirts and would have nose-dived into the stairs if he hadn’t yanked her upright.   Slowing his pace now that they were before the room, he walked at a more leisurely pace, allowing her to recover from her near mishap.  He opened the door and released his grip on her hand so that she could precede him inside.

He watched, arms akimbo, as she sunk gratefully on the bed, her head down indicating her weariness. 

“Listen, pet.  I mean it… Don’t open the door for anyone.  My little bite mark will keep the vam…er, the monsters away for now.  But, there’s more out there in that tavern than demons.  The lot of them are pissed right now, and a pretty li’l thing like you would be seen as a right nice treat.”

Her eyes grew huge as saucers at him speaking so frankly to her, but right now, that was the least of his crimes against her person.  She just nodded at him, assuring him that she wouldn’t open the door for anyone. He nodded once and turned to leave.

Her fear got the better of her and she whispered softly, “You will be returning for me?”

He halted, one hand on the door, and turned back to her.  Wide luminous eyes gazed back at him.  He was jolted by the protective feelings he was suddenly feeling towards her, the bloody slayer.  And, he hadn’t even claimed her yet.

Claiming.

Blood.

Calling.

He removed his hand from the door and strode quickly to her.  Reaching down, he grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly to her feet to slam flush against his hard body.   Her open-mouthed gasp was just the opportunity he need to plunge his tongue into her mouth, possessing her.

Her body was unmoving against his, but as his tongue swept masterfully within her mouth, her body relaxed and leaned into his.  A soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips, captured within his mouth.  He broke the kiss, sensing that she needed oxygen, to trail his lips down her jaw.  Her head fell back to expose the smooth column of her throat.

His eyes zeroed in on his mark and he was powerless to do anything but take a little taste. Just a small one.  He’d wait to claim her until he got back.  It would be an experience neither was likely to ever forget.  For now, a little taste to tide him over…

Blunt teeth nibbled down her neck to hover over his mark.  Holding her body close, he allowed his face to shift, his fangs to elongate.  A shocked gasp escaped her lips as his fangs slid into her neck, slowly piercing her delicate flesh.

‘It doesn’t hurt,’ she thought vaguely as he began to suck her blood into her mouth.

Again, faint stirrings of some unknown emotion filled her body and she found herself trying to press closer to him.  At any other time she would be shocked by her scandalous behavior, but right now this monster, this demon, was making her feel so good…so alive.

“Yesssss….” she moaned as he pulled her closer.  His fangs had slipped out of her neck and now he was just sucking.  Then she felt his tongue gliding over the fresh marks he had just made.  His slightly rough tongue caused gooseflesh to erupt along her arms, while a gentle throb persisted in her womb. 

He’d never felt reluctance as a vampire before, and Spike was loath to admit to the emotion now.  But, as he pulled away from the slayer’s warm, willing, and aroused body; he wanted nothing more that to tell Doyle to go by himself so that he could spend the rest of the night getting acquainted with the slayer.

Pushing her to arm’s length, he waited until she lifted her head and opened her eyes.   The dazed expression she wore tempted his demon to say the hell with it… claim her now.  With a growl, he shoved her lax body down onto the bed with a command for her to stay put.

She just nodded at him, too befuddled to say anything about his abrupt manner with her.  

Twirling around at the inviting picture she made sprawled on the bed, he left the room, the tails of his duster billowing behind him.  He pulled the door shut as he left the room, his confusion over his recent “less-than-demon-like” feelings reducing him to slamming it in a childish pout.  Using the key Doyle had given him on the way up the stairs, he locked her inside.  He rushed down the stairs and passed a protesting Doyle, who took one look at his blood-smeared face and said nothing.

The two strode off into the night, eager to get the necessary details taken care of so that he and Buffy could begin to move around without fear of discovery.

~*~*~*~*~

Their first stop was a tailor.  Spike and Doyle stood out like a sore thumb in the clothes they were currently wearing.  Spike spotted the shop first and made his way to the back of the shop.  Grabbing the wrought-iron door latch, he broke it, allowing the two to slip inside.

They were both grateful the tailor had some items out on display.  It also looked like they had just finished making a wardrobe for an English lord.  Many different outfits for all occasions were wrapped and folded in a chest and waiting apparent delivery in the morning. 

“Oh, bloody hell!  Just stake me now and get it over with,” he moaned as he pulled out a pair of breeches from the chest.  He eyed the ponce-y breeches as a shudder of revulsion gripped his body.  “They better bloody well find a solution to this problem quick.  I refuse to wear this stuff forever.  I’ve been there, done that…thank you very much!”

“Just put it on and shut up, Spike,” Doyle replied, suppressing his own abhorrence for the clothes held in his hands.  ‘At least I’m only stuck in this stuff for a little while.’  The thought cheered him somewhat.

Spike slipped off his duster, followed by the red button-down shirt and black t-shirt that made up his trademark wardrobe.  Eyeing the clothes laid out before him with disgust, he quickly slipped out of his shoes and shed the black jeans that molded his legs like a second skin.  Naked, he grabbed the white, silk stocking first – remembering from his human days, it was easier to slip those on before pulling on his trousers.

Beside him, Doyle quickly disrobed and began pulling on the awkward garb, following Spike’s example since he was completely clueless at to how all these pieces came together. 

Next, Spike grabbed the gray and yellow pinstriped knee breeches and pulled them on.   He almost changed his mind about the clothes he had to wear when he spied the white silk shirt he needed to wear.  Holding it before him, he took in the flowing material, the stitches that leaned a little towards the feminine side.  Soft curses filled the room as he jammed his arms into the shirt and started buttoning it up.  He didn’t even bother to grumble – knowing it was useless, and besides, who was there to hear him besides Doyle – as he slipped the soft pink vest on. 

Doyle looked up as he grabbed his own matching vest.  Spike caught his stare and narrowed his eyes at the half demon.

“One word and I’ll bite you,” he ground out.  He knew he looked like the nancy-boy he was always calling Angel and regretted that he was unable to see his reflection in the mirror.
 
Both men stood dressed in their stocking feet and glanced around the shop.

“Damn.  I forgot.”  Doyle looked at Spike inquiringly.  “Different shop for shoes.”  He strode off to the front of the store mumbling, “In my human days, one was usually… Ah hah!”

Doyle came to stand beside him as they looked out the front window.  Spike was pointing across the street. 

“Shoe shop.”

They gathered their things and left the shop, looking for any signs of activity before they rushed across the street in their stocking feet towards the shoe shop.  Again, Spike broke the door latch and they slipped inside.  Their stockings were ruined, although neither man cared.  Doyle wasn’t planning on being there much longer, and Spike just needed the clothes so he could move around for the night.  Once he was settled, he’d have a better wardrobe made for him – one that didn’t have such nancy-boy colors.

Spike just rolled his eyes as he took in the shoes on display.  ‘When did boots come into style?’ he thought as he grabbed a pair of shoes to slip on.  The third pair he tried fit, and he was just happy he couldn’t see how awful he looked.

Doyle found a pair that fit and slipped them on.  Glancing up at Spike, the self-professed “Slayer of Slayers,” he bit back a laugh.

“Not one word,” he warned, growling fiercely.  “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t be mocking me if you got a gander at yourself.” 

‘There!  That’ll wipe the smile off his face,’ Spike thought.   His own mood improving slightly, he brushed passed the half-demon, his precious clothes held securely in his hands.

“Let’s get Lady Summers some clothes and return to the tavern.”

The two raided several shops, grabbing all the frippery the slayer would need to feel comfortable.  Again, they grabbed just enough for them to appear respectable as they slipped from the tavern to a waiting hack they planned to hire.

Spike and Doyle made it back to the tavern a couple hours before dawn.  Spike figured it would take the slayer at least an hour to get ready; although, her new lady’s maid that he dragged along at his side would go a long way towards speeding her along.

Spike handed the maid the key to their room and handed the packages over to her, telling her to get her new mistress ready and not to dawdle, as they wanted to be on their way before sun-up.  She bobbed a quick curtsy and fled up the stairs to the rooms above.

Finally free from his burden, Spike stalked off to hire a hack.  Once he had realized Spike had things well in hand, Doyle had handed him a packet with directions to their new “residence” and enough money to see them there.  Then, he’d promptly disappeared, taking both his and Spike’s clothes with him.  The wanker.  He’d taken his duster and his cigarettes and lighter had been inside.  Right now, he’d kill for a cigarette.

As he walked along the street, he felt someone’s – or rather, something’s – eyes on him.  Stopping in his tracks, he turned and stared at the darkened alley.  His eyes briefly flashed yellow, letting his would-be attacker know that this master vampire would not become his evening meal.  He smirked as he listened to the younger vampire fade back into the alleyway.

Striding off once more, he continued his search for a hack to take him to his new home.   A few minutes later, Spike saw one pull up before another tavern and watched as a couple of drunken sailors stepped down from inside. 

Reaching into the pouch, he extracted a coin and flipped it to the waiting driver.  A grin lit up the older man’s face as he caught it.

“Climb in, M’lord.  Where to?”

“Back to The Red Lyon.  There’s another coin in it for you if you wait for me to conclude my business within.”

“Right ye are, gov’nor.  ‘Ole Willie be waiting right out front for yer return.”

“Very good.  I shall be but a moment.”  He snorted at himself at the ease with which he had slipped back into the cultured tones of his human days.

Spike strode through the front door of the pub, weaving his way through the tables to the stairs at the back.  He felt a prickling of awareness and realized a few vampires were tucked in the corner of the room, eagerly eyeing the patrons for their next meal.   He didn’t pause as he sensed them, knowing instinctively that he was far older than any of them.  ‘Probably on a scouting mission for their master.’

He knocked on the door and listened as the maid came towards the door.  He knew it was she and not the slayer from the sound of her gait, and the slightly unkempt smell that lingered on her frame.  ‘That’ll be remedied soon enough.’  With his sensitive nose, he was going to insist his staff bathe…and often.

“Who is it?”

“It’s your Lord. Open the door.”  He heard the key slip in the lock and listened as it turned, unlocking the door.  The maid dropped into a quick curtsy as he crossed the threshold.

He was happy to see that the slayer, with the help of her new lady’s maid, had finished dressing and was just getting the finishing touches done to her auburn hair.

“Good.  You’re ready.  I have a hack waiting below to take us to my country estate.”

Buffy rose gracefully from her seat.  Her eyes widened slightly as she took in his changed appearance.

‘He looks almost human,’ she thought.  ‘Just like an English Lord.’   She gave him a quick curtsy and allowed him to lead her from the room and down the stairs.  They took the back exit again, not wanting to incite a riot among the drunken customers of the tavern.

Seeing the ravishing, dark-haired beauty making her way towards him, Willie jumped down from his perch and opened the door.  He held it wide as Spike assisted her inside before stepping in after her.  Her new lady’s maid followed behind him, sitting across from them in the vacant seat, as Spike wanted to sit next to the slayer.

Willie shut the door and climbed back up on his perch.  With a flick of his whip, the horses were in motion and they were on their way to Spike’s new “country estate.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 4

Spike had never been so grateful as when they pulled up the long, winding drive to the country estate he seemed to have inherited – along with the title – from the half-demon. He had forgotten how hard traveling in a carriage could be on a person.   The slayer sat beside him, prim and proper. But on closer inspection, he could tell that she was about ready to drop – the constant jarring apparently having gotten to her.

He knew that if she thought she could get away with it, she would be leaning into his side to ease the ache that had, no doubt, settled in her lower back.  Unfortunately, her new lady’s maid was taking her chaperone job to heart. 

Spike was quite tempted to eat her.  He’d become especially protective of the slayer since he realized that he would be claiming her.  A thought that puzzled him the more he thought about it.

He put having a talk with the maid as soon as possible on his growing list of things to do once this bloody contraption stopped.

The rain had started about an hour into their trip, causing the wheels to stick in the quick-forming mud the road was turning into.  The only good thing about the rain was that it would enable him to enter the front door without causing the staff to wonder why he had left the womenfolk behind as he raced up the steps.

As if in answer to his prayer – or more like someone upstairs had realized he was about to explode from impatience – the hack rolled to a halt before the seeming miles of steps leading to the entrance.

He was somewhat surprised to find upon opening the carriage door that his staff was lining the steps to welcome the master home; the rain pouring down on their heads drenching them to the bone.  Rolling his eyes at their foolish dedication, he quickly alighted from the coach, turning to help the slayer down onto solid ground.  He didn’t say a word as he strode up the steps to get out of the rain, didn’t bother to acknowledge their bobbed curtsies and bows as he passed, pulling a thoroughly exhausted slayer behind him.  No sense standing on ceremony while the rain was coming down in buckets.

His housekeeper moved to welcome him home, dropping into a curtsy, even as her hair hung limply down the sides of her face from the rain.

“Inside,” Spike commanded brusquely.  “No sense telling me the state of my home in the rain.  And, call the damn staff inside as well.  I don’t want to have to call the doctor round because you all stood out in the rain to welcome me home.”

The housekeeper nodded as he barked out instructions, trailing beside him as he ascending the steps.  Turning to the assembled masses with a few pointed looks, she quickly dispersed them to see to their duties.

“Oh, and put the driver up for the night.  I don’t think the rain’s going to be letting up anytime soon.”

With that final command he walked through the door, held open by the butler.

“Welcome home, M’Lord… M’Lady.”

“Errr…”

“Higgins, sir.”

“Right!  Thank you, Higgins.  Good to be in out of the rain.”

“Yes it is, Sir.”  He moved to shut the front door, cutting off the chill wind sweeping through the foyer.

“I can have Mary show M’Lady and her maid to her rooms.”  Mary had walked forward as her name was mentioned.  She bobbed a curtsy to the slayer before starting up a running monologue as she led her up the stairs.  The slayer’s maid would no doubt be shown the way to her lady’s room by one of the staff.

Alone in the hall with Higgins, Spike leaned close and said, “Lady Summers will be staying with us for a while as she is now my ward.  She is going to need clothes, shoes…the works.  Make arrangements to have someone come out tomorrow… or if there’s a local seamstress?”

“I’ll take care of it, Sir.”

“Very good.  I’ll be in my study and don’t wish to be disturbed.”   With that, Spike strode off, unerringly finding the study.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike poured himself a stiff drink from one of the decanters on the bar.  He eyed the thick drapes, glad to see that the masculine lines and décor of the room allowed for them to be heavy enough to block out the deadly sun’s rays that would have peeked in through the massive bay windows otherwise. 

Walking behind the desk, he pulled the packet of papers Doyle had thrust upon him before the half-demon had disappeared.  With a sigh at the situation he had suddenly found himself in, he plopped down in the seat behind the desk.  He toed off the shoes that he had come to curse the longer he had to wear them.  He swore to himself that he was going to walk around barefoot until boots came into fashion.  Maybe he could help the trend along by having a few pairs commissioned to his specifications.  He was an Earl now; the Ton would be quick to follow his example and copy his eccentric style.    

He opened the packet of papers and started reading.  Inside were detailed descriptions of his holdings, his ancestry…all the knowledge he would need to pull off being the Earl of Arundel.  It shouldn’t be too hard; he’d always been a quick study.  And, since the slayer was currently oblivious to her true self, he wouldn’t have to worry about finding someone to educate her on the finer points of being an English lady.

A few hours later he locked the contents away from prying eyes then finished his brandy in one quick swallow.  It was time to locate the slayer and make her his for all eternity.  One part of him rebelled at this…yet, part of him, a part he refused to acknowledge, was looking forward to it.  To have her tied to him for all eternity…he licked his lips in anticipation.

He slipped out of the study in his stocking feet, silently making his way up the staircase.  He followed her scent and realized that she had been show to the lady’s chambers – a suite of rooms that had a connecting door to the master bedroom.   With a smile on his face, he continued down the hall to his bedroom.

No sense announcing their unique relationship to the staff.  Let them think that the slayer was his ward.  It would be easier to explain for now.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike stepped inside his room, his eyes quickly darting to his valet.

“You can go, ummm…”

“Travis, Sir.”

“Yes, of course.  Travis.  I won’t be needing you this evening.”   He was impatient to get next door.  And, he couldn’t do that with a room full of people.

“Very good, Sir.”  The man gave a slight bow before he silently slipped from the room to, no doubt, head down to the kitchens to relay his mood to the butler and housekeeper.  ‘Ahhh… some things never change.’

Spike took his coat off and slung it over a high-back chair.  The vest quickly followed.  Ignoring the mirror, he undid several buttons on his white, silk shirt exposing the alabaster skin of his chest.  Eyeing the discarded clothes, he thought longingly of the black t-shirt and jeans he had had to leave behind.

Turning away from the chair, he crossed the room to the connecting door.  He paused, listening for a moment.  Good, she was alone.

He opened the door and came to an abrupt halt.  An unneeded breath hitched in his throat as he gazed at the vision before him.  The slayer was sitting on the floor before the fire.  Garbed in a simple white nightgown, she must have just finished her bath if her wet hair was any indication.  She sat there, brush in hand, running it through her long auburn locks.  Unbound, her hair fell to her waist.  It was pulled to one side as she worked the brush through her hair.  His eyes zeroed in on his mark.  His.

He could feel himself swelling behind the snug knee breeches he wore.  He watched as she paused in her actions momentarily, as if sensing that she had an audience.  Yet, she didn’t turn to look at him.  A reluctant smile tugged at her lips as she tried to appear cool and calm before him.  Unfortunately for her, he could hear the sound of her blood as it pounded in her veins. 

He closed the door behind him and walked over to her.  Her hand stilled in her hair as she felt him step behind her.  He reached down and took the brush from her hands, sitting in the chair behind her.

“Let me, luv,” he said softly.  She just nodded not saying anything…just scooted closer to the chair so he could easily reach her.

It seemed like he spent hours brushing her hair.  The intimate action soothed him for some reason and he was reluctant to stop.  Her breathy moans were slowly driving him to distraction.  She probably didn’t realize the arousing sounds she was making.   But, he did … so too did his demon.  Right now, it was urging him – no, demanding – that he take her, claim her as his.

He would.  He just wanted to take his time…set the scene.  Allow her to relax in his presence.  If done right, it would be an experience neither would ever forget.

After an interminable amount of time, her hair was finally dry.  Setting the brush aside, he slipped his fingers in her hair, mimicking the earlier actions of the brush.   At first, she stiffened, unused to having a man’s hands so familiar with her person.  But, as the tips of his fingers kneaded her scalp – his wicked touch causing her eyes to close in pleasure – she relaxed against him once more, letting him weave his magic.

Spike was surprised at the responsiveness of the slayer.  On some deeper level, she must have been aware of what was going on.  Because as an English Lady, she would have been having an attack of the vapors at having a virtual stranger all but molesting her.

Her head fell back to lie on his thigh, exposing her neck to his gaze.  His fingers left her hair to trail down the long expanse of her pale throat, his fingers teasing the marks he had left.  He knew that rubbing his mark would drive her crazy, and he breathed deeply as he smelled the first stirrings of her desire perfume the air around them.

Her heady aroma was too much for his demon to bear, and he couldn’t control himself and his face shifted, his eyes blazing an unholy yellow in the storm-darkened bedroom.   Licking his lips in anticipation, he leaned towards her neck displayed so temptingly before him.  His fangs trailed back and forth across her smooth skin, lightly grazing it, before nicking her flesh, allowing a single crimson drop to pool on her neck. 

Spike’s tongue darted out to lap at the drop…the taste of her barely whetting his appetite.  If it were possible, her head fell back even more, granting him greater access.

‘She wants this as much as I do,’ he thought to himself, slightly amazed.

He needed to move this to the bed.  It was that thought that had him scooping her up in his arms and carrying her swiftly to the monstrous bed that dominated the room.   He laid her down on the cool sheets – the covers having been drawn by her maid – and before she had time to protest, he stretched out alongside her, nuzzling her neck.  He knew that teasing his mark was the most sure-fire way to get her to relax against him.

When he felt her settle down beside him, he allowed his hands to wander over her petite form.  Face, neck, breasts, stomach – all were privy to his ministrations.   The slayer, for her part, alternately keened and gasped at the sensations shuddering through her body.  Wanting to feel her bare skin beneath his fingertips, he made quick work of removing her nightgown.

It fell away to reveal toned arms and legs; high, firm breast; and dark, silky curls that begged for him to discover the secrets they held.  Now that she was naked to his touch, he hands and mouth played over her body.  Each touch – each caress – caused her body to grow more taut, until she was strung so tight, the slightest touch from him would surely send her over the edge. 

He could feel it…she was so close.  A flick of his thumb over her clitoris as he slipped a finger past her outer folds into the warm, wet heat of her body would be enough to trigger her orgasm. 

Spike backed off for the moment.  Allowing her body to calm somewhat, he stood up beside the bed and stripped off his shirt, breeches and stockings.  They were gone so fast, she didn’t even have time to cry out her disappointment before his bare body was snug up against hers again.  She didn’t even flinch as his erection nudged against her hip.

He set to work again, bring her body back to the brink of release.  When he knew she could stand it no longer, he nudged her legs apart and settled between them.  Then, he slid down her body until he could breath in the intoxicating scent lingering on her dark, glistening curls. He trailed a finger up and down her slit, not probing, just a gentle stroke to get her acquainted with his touch.  Her hips came off the bed as her body responded to the sinful pleasure.  Her head fell back and her mouth opened, forming a silent “o.”

When a single digit slipped inside her core, Elizabeth just knew that she was going to Hell because of all the sinful pleasure her body was experiencing.  Surely, gentle-born ladies didn’t conduct themselves in this fashion!  But, oh God, it felt heavenly.  She heard a ragged moaning sound in the room, and she was shocked to discover it was her own.  She just couldn’t help the mewling sounds that passed her lips…the pleasure he was providing her body was too great not to voice her approval, even if it was unintelligible. 

Then, his thumb circled the bundle of nerves at her apex and she was helpless to stop the quivering that erupted within her body. 

“Ooooohhhh….”

Spike just watched as the slayer’s orgasm washed over her.  He could feel her inner walls milking his finger and he wanted nothing more than to slide up her body and bury himself deep within her heat.  His finger continued to slide in and out of her passage as she rode out her release. 

When he felt the last tremor finally end, he removed his hand and crawled up her body.   Using her body’s secretions, he coated his burgeoning length, making it nice and slick to aid him as he slipped inside her beckoning depths.  Grabbing his cock, he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed his way inside. 

He didn’t go deep, allowing her body to adjust to his invasion.  He pulled his hips back slightly before thrusting home once again.  Over and over it went, until Spike could feel her maidenhead.  Sensing that this was it, he urged her to open her eyes and look at him.

Passion-filled hazel eyes were pinned by his own, helpless to look away.

“Hang on, luv.”

With no other warning, he pushed past the barrier sheathing himself to the hilt.  Her shocked gasp had him stilling within her, allowing her body to adjust to his size. 

Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her eyes squeezed shut at the pain, and a few tears leaked from her eyes to trail silently down her cheeks. It had been feeling so good, the things he was doing to her, right up until this moment.  Now, she just wanted him to stop what he was doing so she could curl up into a ball and hide from the pain.

Spike noticed her tears and his tongue slipped out to halt their progress down her face.   He knew he had hurt her, but it couldn’t be helped.  Now, he just had to wait while her body adjusted to his… then, he’d show how deep her pleasure could be.

“Shhhh, kitten.  It’s ok,” he soothed.  “The pain is over.   Now it’s just pleasure.  I promise.” 

Her eyes opened at his soft, reassuring words.  She was amazed with how gentle he was being with her.  Then, he flexed his hips, and whatever thought she had been thinking instantaneously fled her mind.

As he began to slowly pump in and out of her, she had to admit he was right.  Her pain had faded and pleasure was bubbling up from her core and quickly making its way to her limbs.  The intense feelings were almost too much for her body to handle.

“Oh, God….slayer…”

“Elizabeth,” she reminded him, blushing at her audacity.

“Elizabeth…” His breathless murmur as he voiced her name did strange things to her.  Her arms tightened around him...her legs unknowingly lifted to wrap around his lower back, thereby increasing the depth of his thrust.

“Oh yes… like that…” he murmured.  “Feels so good… mine…all mine…”

Elizabeth held him tighter as his pace increased.  The riotous emotions swirling within her body prevented her from speaking.  So she just held on, praying that he would catch her when she fell.

His need to possess her, caused the slow-moving tenderness he was showing her to slip away.  Now he just thrust into her body; long, deep strokes that drove both of them closer to completion. 

His demon slipped out, ready to stake his claim.  He gazed down at her, his yellow eyes gleaming as they watched her.  Trying to reassure him – why…she didn’t know – she removed one hand from where it held him close to her body, to trail across the ridges on his face. 

His eyes closed as he continued to thrust into her, shocked that she didn’t appear the least bit scared of him.  It was almost as if she were reassuring him.  The idea was almost laughable…yet, for some reason, his demon basked in her gentle touch.

“Come to me,” she whispered.

And he was undone.

With a groan, he lowered his fangs to her neck, piercing her delicate flesh.  He bit deep, knowing that he was hurting her.  But, he was marking her…stating his claim for the world to see…and heed. This mark would last forever…his claim sealing her fate, her life, to his for all eternity.

She cried out as his fangs went deep, deeper than before.  Then, he began to suck her blood into his mouth, and she was undone.  Each pull of her blood caused an answering throb where he was steadily sliding in and out of her.  Then, he took one last deep pull from her neck and she was lost…exploding into a thousand pieces, the dual penetration too much for her to bear.

“Spike!” she bellowed, sounding momentarily like her slayer-self.

“Mine!  Say it!” he commanded as he ripped his fangs from her neck, blood coating his lips.  He stilled within her, waiting.

“Yours.  Now and forever,” she answered instinctively.

Nicking his tongue on his fang he leaned down and kissed her.  As his tongue wended its way inside, his blood spilled forth into her mouth.  Abruptly, he ended the kiss.

“Blood of my blood.  Forever marked mine.”

Then, he was moving once more.  His tongue darted out – still bleeding – to lick the fresh marks he had made. His blood mixed with his saliva preventing the marks from ever fading, signaling to all vampires that she was his.

Now that his mark had been seen too, he was ready to allow the pleasure of being inside the slayer overtake him.

Slipping his hands underneath her to cup her shoulders, Spike held her in place as he resumed his deep thrusts within her body.  Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him and held him tight as he took her body to new heights.

Sensing her near-capitulation, Spike reached down between their joined bodies to rub his thumb in circles around her clit.  Her eyes went wide at this new sensation and she came, her juices coating his cock as her inner walls massaged his length.

With a roar, he sunk his fangs back in her neck, thrusting a few more times before he, too, came.

Collapsing on top of her in a tangle of arms and legs, the two attempted to recover.   After a few moments, Spike pulled out of her and twisted to the side, realizing his weight was probably too great for her slight body.  Slipping an arm underneath her neck, he hauled her close to his side and nuzzled her neck.  Elizabeth half-sprawled on top of him, too sated to move.

Chapter 5

Elizabeth wasn’t surprised when she woke up alone.  Appearances had to be maintained, after all, and having the earl caught in her bed by a member of his staff would ruin her reputation instantly.  It was practically scandalous to have just her maid acting as her chaperone, even with all the other female staff running about.  She sincerely hoped Spike…

‘Now, where had that name come from?’ she thought to herself.

 Shaking her head at her foolishness, she allowed her eyelids to drift downward as her mind replayed the events of last night. 

 ~*~

They lay in a tangle of arms and legs, her body draped over his as he hauled her snug against his side.  His possessiveness pleased her; she was grateful that he hadn’t just made use of her body and left.   For surely, now that she was no longer a virgin, her reputation would be in tatters if he did leave.  Even so, she felt unsure of herself.  So much so that she couldn’t prevent herself from whispering his name.

“William?”

At first he didn’t answer.  Spike was reeling from the possessive feelings coursing through his body.  Even now, he wanted her again.  His demon was just clamoring for another taste of her.  He had thought he could just claim her and maintain his distance, but apparently “The Powers” had other ideas.

‘Yeah, right, Spike.  Use that excuse if it helps makes it easier to swallow.’

Apparently, his lack of a response was affecting her.  He felt her stiffen in his arms and try to pull away.  He tightened his hold on her, burying his nose in her neck to nuzzle his mark.  She immediately calmed and settled beside him once more.  Remembering that she had called his name – his sorta fictitious name concocted by the “Powers” he answered her. 

“What is it, pet?” 

“Nothing,” she mumbled into his side. 

“None of that now, luv,” he began.  “What did you want to ask me?” 

“I just…” she couldn’t go on, burying her face in his chest in shame and embarrassment. 

Surprising himself at his gentleness, Spike slipped a few fingers under her chin and applied just enough pressure to get her to raise her head and look at him. 

Elizabeth was sucked into his penetrating gaze, unable to pull herself away from his hypnotic trance.  Realizing she couldn’t turn away, but refusing to look at him as she voiced her question, she closed her eyes and whispered, “I just…I…did I please you? You’re not going to leave me now, are you?” 

“Never, kitten,” he whispered as he slipped one hand around the back of her neck and hauled her down for another kiss.  Elizabeth suddenly found herself on her back, William having rolled their bodies so that he half-lay on top of her. 

Hours slipped by as Spike proved to her over and over again that he would always be there for her. 

~*~ 

She shifted under the covers as she relived the many hours spent in William’s arms, then winced at the pain she felt between her legs.   

Speaking of pain… She lifted the sheets and glanced down at her naked bo…wait, not naked body.  Noticing the clean sheets, she blushed several becoming shades of red.  Apparently, that part wasn’t a dream… 

~*~ 

Spike carefully disentangled his arm from underneath the slayer’s sleeping form.  Reluctant to leave her, yet knowing that they couldn’t be caught together, Spike left the warmth of her body.  He was almost to the connecting door before a thought hit him. 

Veering towards the folding screen, Spike stepped behind it to stand before the water basin.   Pouring some water from the pitcher, he grabbed a cloth and made his way back towards the slayer.  He eased the covers off her body, exposing her nude form to his gaze, his eyes zeroing in on her virgin’s blood smattering the otherwise pristine sheets.  From there, his gaze traveled up her bare legs to the blood coating her inner thighs. 

Spike leaned over the bed, his face making a beeline for her mound; he licked his lips in anticipation of cleaning her up, the wet cloth he held in his hand momentarily forgotten.   His lips were moments away from their goal when he heard her moan in her sleep as she rolled from her side to her back. 

He couldn’t stop the low growl that rumbled from his chest and escaped through his parted lips as he gazed at her laid out so openly before him. 

Elizabeth came awake to the feel of his raspy tongue gliding up her inner thighs.  Her hips shot off the bed as his cool tongue laved her legs.   She would have blushed crimson and tried valiantly to push him away if she had realized that he was using his tongue to clean her.   As it was, she surprised herself by holding his head in place as his tongue slowly worked its way to her mound to begin his wicked torture to that sensitized part of her body. 

In the aftermath of her climax, she had drifted off to sleep once again.  She didn’t stir as her body was gently lifted and the sheets removed and replaced with fresh linens.  Didn’t even twitch as Spike used the softest of touches to slip her nightgown back over her head.   She did; however, nuzzle into his hand as his fingers trailed softly down her cheek before he slipped silently from the room. 

~*~ 

She couldn’t believe her wantonness the previous evening.  If anyone ever found out she was no longer a virgin… she shuddered to think of the consequences. 

And, that in itself was a shock.  Surely there must be something wrong with her. To allow him to do those things to her, and him a monster, no less.  If she could work up the courage, she would have to ask him just what exactly he was. 

Her mind drifted back to the first time he had bitten her…when she had been in that strange land, the budding sensations she had felt.  When she had returned home – if you could call waking up in a dank alley being home – he’d bitten her again, just before he had stormed out of the room that other gentleman had procured at the tavern…there was just some kind of pull he exuded that she seemed powerless to resist.  It was as if her maidenly protestations fell by the wayside allowing her to embrace the wicked – and surely they had to be wicked – feelings coursing through her body in anticipation of his special “touch.” 

She remembered how she had waited up for him, knowing instinctively that he would be coming to her.   How she had unconsciously tempted him with the picture she made in her almost-transparent white nightgown, as she sat before the fire.  What she should have been doing was running as fast as she could in the opposite direction.  But, she hadn’t.  She’d practically begged him to bite her!  Turned her innocent face up to his in a gesture of total supplication. 

Something must have happened to her when she had suddenly found herself in such unfamiliar surroundings, surrounded by strangers, to make her feel this way. Why was she not running scared from him?  Why did she encourage his touch, practically seek it out?  All these strange emotions and feelings were twirling around in her head, yet refusing to take hold.  Any time she thought she was getting close to an answer, the idea swirled off, leaving confusion dancing in its wake. 

Elizabeth wasn’t even surprised when she felt the insistent throbbing between her legs as she relived their heated encounter.  After last night, she now knew what it meant.  What shocked her was that all she wanted to do right now was climb out of her bed and slip through the connecting door into his room. Wanted to feel his teeth as they suck back into her neck.  Listen to him as he practically purred his enjoyment.  

‘Wouldn’t the staff be shocked then!?’  She giggled to herself at the absurdity of that notion while gently fingering the marks left on her neck.  

She wasn’t allowed to delve further into her unexpected capitulation because suddenly there was a brief knock at her door before her lady’s maid, Heather, was pushing her way inside.  Heather paid no mind to the inner turmoil of her mistress.  Rather, she started an animated monologue about the estate, her quarters, the master…all as she flitted about the room to stoke the fire before opening the heavy curtains to allow the morning rays to help warm the room. 

Elizabeth had tuned her out until she caught the tail end of her maid’s conversation. 

“…seamstress will be ‘ere shortly to get you fitted for yer new wardrobe.  The master kindly offered to pay for a new one since he believes it was ‘is fault yer trunks were stolen.  And, mistress, I heard tell he was: spare no expense…just make sure she has whatever she needs.” 

Elizabeth thought of the single dress she had to her name and prayed the seamstress would be able to get something finished for her today.  Maybe she could loll about in her room today so as not to indicate to the staff her lack of decent apparel. 

“Would you like me to bring you a tray?” 

“That would be lovely.  Some tea and possibly a scone?” 

Heather bobbed a curtsy and quickly left to get the requested items for her mistress.   

As soon as the door closed behind the maid, Elizabeth scrambled out of bed and rushed to the connecting door.  Gingerly, her hands played with the bite mark on her neck, worrying the twin marks that had closed over last night and were now a permanent faded mark upon her neck.  Again, she felt an answering tremor in her womb as her fingers trailed over the scar. 

‘I just want to check on him,’ she argued with herself as she crept quickly to the door.   ‘Make sure he didn’t leave me.’   

The excuse to gaze upon him sounded flimsy in her ears, but she ignored it and slipped the door open anyway.  A slight creak sounded in the silence, and she stilled just across the threshold, her eyes darting to the massive bed to look for any signs of movement. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted his unmoving body on the bed.  Then, her eyes widened and she blushed to the roots of her hair when she actually “noticed” his form on the bed.  His naked form!  Blushing like the virgin she no longer was, she quickly rushed out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her so as not to awaken him, then made haste back to her bed. 

‘What is wrong with me?  First, I let him do those wicked things to my body.  And now I’m ogling him like some courtesan of old!  What spell has he cast over me that has me throwing my morals to the wind and rushing after him like some two-bit whore?’ 

Sensing no answers to the tumultuous thoughts churning in her mind, Elizabeth reluctantly put the matter aside and waited patiently for her maid to return with her breakfast.  

Elizabeth lay back against the pillows propped against the headboard and let her eyes drift shut.   Her mind drifted and images started to flitter through her mind: a tall slim young man walking beside her, a girl with long brownish-red hair on the opposite side of him; an older man with glasses; scary monsters traversing a graveyard. 

Her maid walked back into the room and Elizabeth slipped out of her semi-trance at the noise; she couldn’t, for the life of her, recall the images of just moments ago.  Shrugging daintily, she promptly forgot about it, instead concentrating on the tray being set upon her lap.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 6

Spike lay perfectly still as he heard the slayer open their connecting door and step just inside his room.  He could hear her heart pounding in her chest and was surprised she didn’t faint from the overexertion.   Slayers could take the unnecessary strain on their bodies, but this was 1775 England and women of this time would be having a fit of the “vapors” at the slightest upset.  And, unfortunately, the slayer wasn’t playing with a full deck right now.   He gave a silent chuckle as he realized that the “slayer of slayers” was now mated to one.  Then he immediately frowned.

He was a vampire for God’s sake!  And, what’s with the “making nice” all of a sudden.  Just because she was his now, didn’t mean he had to treat her like she was his queen.  That role belonged to his Dark Princess, Drusilla.  The slayer was just a means to an end until he could get back to his time and be reunited with Dru. 

Then he smelt the slayer’s arousal and all thoughts of Dru were thrust aside as his demon became desperate to reassert his claim on her. 

Unfortunately, she had slammed out of his room before he could make good on his intentions. 

Grumbling at the earliness of the hour, he flung the sheets off his nude body and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He stood up and reached for his breeches from where he had dropped them on the chair as he had returned from her room a few hours ago. 

He vaguely heard her maid as she returned next door with the slayer’s breakfast.   Before long, he could make out additional heartbeats, then excited voices as a bunch of women gushed over her petite frame while they were apparently taking her measurements.  (He could tell they were women from the copious amount of perfume that permeated their bodies to disguise their unwashed state.  Honestly, a little bath now and then never hurt anyone!)  

‘Good.  That should keep her occupied most of the day.’ 

There was a sharp rap at his bedroom door before it opened, revealing his valet, Travis. 

“Good morning, m’lord.  I trust you slept well?” he asked respectfully. 

“Mmm…” 

“I took the liberty of bringing you something to drink.” 

“’M not thirst...” Spike’s voice trailed off as he caught a whiff of blood, human blood.  His head snapped around as he zeroed in on the glass perched on a serving tray the valet carried.  That his valet was even carrying a serving tray had him quirking his scared brow inquiringly. 

“It’s not just my skills with laying out your clothing that has awarded me the position as your valet, m’lord,” Travis answered the unspoken question.  “My family has been serving vampires as far back as I can remember.”  

“And you’re not worried that I’m going to bite you?” Spike growled, trying to recover from his astonishment. 

The valet drew himself up stiffly in the face of his master’s ire and retorted unwaveringly, “My family has the protection of the Aurelius line.” 

“Aurelius line, you say?”  He stalked towards the valet, stopped just a hairsbreadth in front of him before leaning down and saying, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing for you that I am from the Aurelius line then, isn’t it.” 

“But…but, that’s not possible! I would have known of any master in their line.” 

“Trust me, you’ll be dead long before your ‘family’ will learn about me,” he replied with a snort. 

“But…” 

“Never mind.”  Spike snagged the glass of blood off the tray before the valet managed to drop it.  He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it in one quick swallow before returning the empty glass to the tray the valet still held outstretched in his arms.  “So, tell me, who else knows what I am?” 

The valet said nothing. 

“Travis?” he called impatiently. 

“Wha?  Huh?  Oh… right…sorry, m’lord. Who knows?  Just senior staff: myself; Higgins, the butler; Mrs. Cremshaw, the housekeeper; and Mrs. Wadsworth, the cook.” 

“And, where’s the nearest family house?” 

“Uh…that would be back in London, m’lord. Higgins has the direction…but, if you go there and you’re not who you claim you are, they’ll kill you on sight.” 

“Well, they can certainly try, now can’t they?  Now, tell me there’s something in here that will fit me.” 

“Well…of course, m’lord.  This is your residence.”  He didn’t notice that his words seemed to contradict his earlier statement about him being aware of all the Aurelius master vampires. ‘Guess The Powers didn’t dot all of their I’s, now did they?’

“Right.  Well, lay out something for me and have someone inform Lady Summer’s that I will be gone for a few days…business to see to.  I’m sure there’s some needlepoint or some such nonsense that will keep her entertained until I return?” 

“Yes, m’lord.  And, Lady Summer’s…” 

“Is mine!” 

“Very good, sir.”  Travis knew when to keep his mouth shut. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike had every intention of departing for London without seeing the slayer before he took his leave.  He had even gotten so far as climbing into his coach and starting down the winding drive before he pounded his cane against the roof and demanded the driver turn around. 

Growling at himself in frustration he barked out a harsh “I’ll be right back” to the stunned driver before he vaulted up the sweeping staircase.  He wasn’t even surprised that the butler had the door open before he could reach it; it was probably written in the job description or something. 

Ignoring him, he darted up the staircase towards his room, startling a few upstairs maids along the way.  Spike opened his bedroom door; he stepped inside his room and was grateful to see it was empty.  He quickly shut the door and crossed to the connecting door. 

‘What the hell am I doing?’ he grumbled silently to himself.  ‘These nancy-boy clothes must be wearing off on me!’ 

Growling in frustration, he turned around and walked away from the connecting door…was halfway across his room to leave again, before he stopped. 

“Bloody hell!” he roared.  He wasn’t even aware his human features slid away as he stomped across the floor, back to the connecting door.  He didn’t pause, just grabbed the knob and turned the handle, almost breaking it off in his haste. 

He stepped inside the slayer’s bedroom, his yellow gaze scanning the room for her.  His amber eyes glittered as they zeroed in on her sitting before the vanity.  He watched as she let out a startled gasp as she became aware of his presence. 

A few quick strides and Spike was across the room, pulling the slayer to her feet and shoving her up against the wall.  He didn’t give her time to protest as he lowered his head and ravaged her mouth. 

Forgetting about his vamped visage, he was startled when he suddenly smelled her blood on the air.   He stopped momentarily to look down at her.   Blood trickled from a cut on her lip where his fang had apparently nicked her.  The sight had him groaning softly before he lowered his head again so that he could lick the red trail from her face. 

“William,” she whispered softly as his tongue darted out to clean the blood that was making a path down her chin.  Her arousal washed over his senses and there was no way he was leaving without having her again. 

He fumbled with her skirts, raising them up over her waist before seeing to his breeches.  

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded huskily.  She obeyed him immediately, mindless to the almost violent nature of his loving. 

His lust was too great to be gentle with her; as soon as his cock sprang free from its confinement, he wrapped his hand around the base, guiding it to her opening.  He didn’t prepare her, just thrust into her warmth, causing her body to slam back against the wall.  His mouth closed over hers to silence the cries that would otherwise flood the room and possibly alert the staff. 

Over and over he thrust into her willing body, her whimpered cries of ecstasy captured by his mouth, slowly driving him insane. 

“Look at me, slayer,” he demanded as he tore his mouth from hers. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing her dazed, passion-filled gaze. His body kept up its unrelenting pace as his amber eyes pinned her in place. 

“Mine!  Say it!” he growled.  

Her mouth parted as if to speak, to say the words he seemed desperate to hear, but the words seemed locked in her throat.  The mind numbing ecstasy coursing through her slight frame incapacitated her vocal cords so that she could only mouth the words he demanded. 

Spike’s eyes glittered as he watched her flushed face.  She was so close to the edge and craving the sweet release he could give her.   She had taken to biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out her pleasure as the frenzied movement of his hips drove his cock harder and deeper into her body. 

Suddenly, his forceful thrusts became too much and her body convulsed around his length, drenching it with her release.  When she unconsciously bit his neck with blunt teeth to muffle her cries, Spike lost it.  With a fierce growl, he sunk his fangs into her neck as he came. 

As his cock pulsated with his release, Elizabeth’s body shook with her second orgasm, causing Spike to groan against her neck as he pulled her blood into his mouth while her inner muscles quivered against his length yet again. 

When he was finally spent, he released his fangs from her neck and licked the new wound closed.   Holding her body close, he pushed himself away from the wall and carried the slayer over to her bed.  Silently cursing himself yet again for his gentleness with her, he slipped his softening cock out of her body, allowing her skirts to settle around her legs.   He quickly refastened his breeches then leaned down to give her mouth a hard kiss as she lifted her face to gaze at him.  He pulled away before he said to hell with going to London and joined her on the bed.  Turning away from her, he stormed towards the connecting door. 

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he ground out before slamming the door behind him.   

Elizabeth gazed at the closed door, a bemused smile playing across her lips as her fingers trailed over the fresh marks on her neck. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike couldn’t believe it.  He’d done it again.  Instead of using her and discarding her when he was finished, he’d ended up being gentle with her again.  ‘Bloody hell!’ 

He would have plenty of time to beat himself up over his behavior as the coach made its way towards London.  Maybe once he was around the company of other vampires he’d be able to shake these softening feelings he was having for the slayer. 

He leaned back in his seat and mentally calculated all the things he needed to accomplish while in London.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 7

The ride to London had been uneventful.  He was even in high spirits after an aborted robbery attempt.  The three highwaymen picked the wrong night and the wrong carriage to accost.  Spike chuckled to himself as he recalled their shocked expression, while leaning back in his seat, sated from the meal he’d had not an hour before.   Maybe now, after a little spot of violence, he would remember what he was and wouldn’t be such a pansy ass git when it came to dealing with the slayer.  

Spike was pleased when he had heard the thunk signaling the driver being knocked unconscious by one of the highwaymen just after his coach had rolled to an abrupt halt nowhere near their destination.  It had allowed him to attack without fearing that his driver would discover his secret.  And, boy had he attacked.  The robbers had never known what hit them.  Spike was especially brutal, as if to reaffirm that he was still a fierce demon, and the emotions the slayer had seemed to elicit in him were just a fluke.  Their terrified cries told him that he had indeed been successful in that regard. 

After he had finished his mini-torture session, he’d drained the three, dumping their bodies in a ditch beside the dirt road.  He’d licked the stray drops of blood from his lips as his human guise slipped back into place, and he’d gone around the front of the coach to rouse the driver.  Then, they’d continued their journey into the city. 

The coach finally came to a stop inside the city proper, and Spike sat up as he felt the presence of vampires.  They must have arrived at their destination.  Swinging down from his coach without bothering to wait for the driver, he straightened his evening attire before glancing up at the gentleman’s club the coach had stopped before: Whitt’s.  Spike rather liked the idea of hiding in plain sight; it was a lot different than the views of his Grand-Sire, Angelus. 

“Be back just before dawn,” he told the driver.  He just prayed the lad had the good sense to go socialize with others of his kind and not become vamp food.  The driver nodded and snapped the reins, getting the horses moving once again. 

Spike climbed the steps to the club and the door opened just as he reached the threshold. 

“Good evening, m’lord.  This is a private…” 

“I have an invitation,” he interrupted, his eyes flashing yellow momentarily. 

The doorman’s eyes narrowed, assessing him, before widening in surprise.  “Aurelius?” 

Spike nodded but didn’t respond.  The short, squat man hurried to apologize, “I wasn’t aware…” 

“You won’t be for some time, mate.  Mind if I come in?” 

“Oh, yes, of course, of course.  Forgive me, m’lord.”  The man bowed while backing out of the way to allow Spike to enter.  The door closed softly behind him, and he removed his cape and handed it and his cane to the doorman.   

He sensed both human and demon alike within the club and he arched his scarred brow in silent query.  “Ahh…” 

“Jenkins, m’lord.” 

“Ok…so, tell me Jenkins, why are humans in an Aurelius safe house?” 

“Well, if you want to own a gentleman’s club, an elite gentleman’s club, you have to cater to the ton.  And, since a good portion of the ton is made up of humans, it makes sense to allow them membership.” 

Spike just nodded as if his explanation made perfect sense.  Why weren’t they still doing things like that when he had come along?   He watched as the doorman signaled discreetly to one of the Aurelius minions mingling among the guests.  The man gave a slight nod before finishing his conversation and walking over towards Spike and the doorman. 

“Jenkins, what can I do for you?” 

“You can show…I’m sorry, m’lord, I didn’t get your name.” 

“William Thornton, Earl of Arundel,” Spike supplied. 

“Ah…yes, I had heard the earl had taken up residence again.  So nice to finally put a face to the name,” the doorman replied.   “Mr. Laitner, would you be so good as to show the earl around, introduce him to a few of our guests…see to it he’s made comfortable.” 

“Be happy to.”  Turning away from Jenkins, he smiled at the master vampire.  “Lord Thornton, this way…if you please.” 

Spike followed after the minion as he led the way deeper into the club.  All around him men of various ages – all impeccably dressed – sat in chairs reading or chatting with fellow members.  Towards the back were several card rooms full of tables where men won and lost huge sums of money on the turn of a card.  Laitner, bypassed both of those rooms, in turn heading towards the staircase that was roped off.   

“High stakes gambling, very discreet,” he said by way of explanation.  Spike just nodded and continued to follow.  Apparently, he was being taken before the current master of the house.   Assuming a bored expression at their obvious ploy, he bided his time until it was the right moment to get the “introductions” out of the way.  Maybe then, he could get his house to scrounge up an elder woman to act as the slayer’s chaperone. 

“You’re lucky I’m in such an agreeable mood,” Spike announced as the minion finally stopped before the double doors at the end of the upstairs hallway.  Their antiquated ways of doing things were quickly getting on his nerves, causing his “Big Bad” image to emerge.   

Grabbing the increasingly wary minion by the lapels of his jacket, he hauled him close as he growled, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”  Releasing the minion, he shoved him towards the door.  Spike had obviously made an impression because it took him several tries before he finally managed to open the door.  

Standing to the side, Laitner allowed the master vampire to precede him into the room.  Spike swaggered into the private chamber of the Aurelius line, instinctively knowing that he had several decades on the oldest vampire currently in the room. 

“Alright, let’s make this quick, shall we?” he announced as he strode boldly in the room.  “Who’s in charge here?” 

Mr. Laitner rushed in front of Spike to introduce him to the rest of the group. 

“Ah… this is Lord William Thornton, Earl of Arundel, of the Aurelius line.” 

“Aurelius line, you say?  And, who is your Sire?” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike was just about to answer when he heard a commotion outside.  Then, he got a faint whiff of what was probably causing it, and swore.   Leaving the question hanging in the air, he turned towards the door and the unwelcome visitor making such a commotion on the other side. 

“Fancy meeting you here, mate,” Spike commented to the figure held up against the wall by two minions.  He was still pissed about Doyle running off with his duster and smokes to let the half-demon off the hook so easily. 

“Yeah, well, the Powers neglected to tell me some things that I needed to pass on to you, so guess who gets to rush back to the rescue?” 

A reluctant smile came to the vampire’s lips at his disgruntled tone.  He couldn’t blame the half-demon; Spike didn’t want to be here any more than Doyle did.  The two minions, seeing that the demon was an acquaintance of the master vampire, quickly released him from their hold. 

“So, what’s so ‘all important’ that you had to come rushing back here?” 

“Well, you’ve…” he glanced around at his audience then turned back to the platinum-haired vampire.  Silently, he conveyed his need for privacy. 

“Why don’t we see about getting us a drink?” 

“Good idea.” Doyle replied. 

“You’ll excuse us for a moment?” Spike posed the rhetorical question to the minion.  “I’ll be back after I see that my friend is settled comfortably downstairs.” 

Mr. Laitner just nodded as the two demons walked down the hall towards the stairs leading to the first floor.  When they were gone from sight, he walked back into the family chamber to speak with the small group of “family” members.  The elder vampire looked up from where he sat behind the desk, poring over documents.  Laitner just shrugged at the unasked question. 

“If he wasn’t who he says he was and dared to claim lineage to the Aurelius line, he would have to know he’d be staked on sight.” 

The elder vampire nodded at this and returned to his task while awaiting the return of the master vampire calling himself Lord Thornton. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Tell me why you’re here again,” Spike demanded sarcastically. 

“You have to be careful about discussing your family tree.  All anyone here needs to know is that you were sired by Angelus.  Don’t, under any circumstances, mention Drusilla.”  Doyle could see the emotion churning in the vampire and rushed to explain. “It has to do with the timeline, Spike.  Drusilla isn’t due to be sired until 1860.  If you mention her now, there’s a good chance that won’t come about.  You can mention Angelus, because he’s already been turned.  And, according to my calculations, Angelus is still in Rome after that little altercation with Holtz.  Him and Darla will stay in Italy a while before moving on to other countries in Europe.  They won’t make it back to England till about 1850, or so – give or take a few years.” 

“Let’s just bloody well hope I’ll be long gone by then and back in my real time,” Spike huffed.  The way Doyle had made it sound, he’d be spending a lot of time in the past, which was not doing anything to improve his mood. 

Finishing his drink in one quick swallow, Spike told Doyle to wait downstairs for him, imparting that he was lucky he wasn’t dead after trying to break into the inner sanctum of the Aurelius safe house.  Grinning at the half-demon’s suddenly pale face, Spike headed towards the stairs to conclude the interview with the house’s family members. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike returned to the room upstairs and announced without preamble, “Angelus, sired by Darla, sired by the Master.  Now…any more stupid questions, or can I get some information here?” 

As soon as the word “Master” had left Spike’s lips, all the vampires had stopped what they were doing to openly stare at him.  ‘That’s bloody more like it!’ 

“What is it that you need?” 

“I need a chaperone.  I’ve a lady staying with me at my country estate, and I need an older woman present to act as a companion and a chaperone.” 

The other vampires looked at one another before replying in unison, “Mrs. Rothworth!” 

“She human or vampire?” 

“Vampire.  But, she’s the person we call upon in situations like this.” 

“’Jus so’s you know, this lady, she’s mine.  No harm will come to her.” 

“You claimed a human,” Mr. Laitner asked in awe. 

“Yeah?  What of it, mate?”  Spike pinned the minion with his stare. 

“It’s just, I’ve…uh…never heard of a vampire claiming a human before…I didn’t mean to offend.”  He held up his hands in a placating gesture. 

“Right.  How soon can word be gotten to the Mrs. Rothworth?  I’d like to conclude my business here in London and be back on the road to my country residence by nightfall tomorrow.” 

“It shouldn’t be a problem.  She maintains a townhouse here in London; we’ll send a runner over there straightaway.” 

“Good.  I’ll wait for word downstairs.”  Spike turned and walked out of the room leaving behind several vampires still in shock, first because he was only three generations removed from the Master and second, because he had seen fit to claim a human – something that was rarely done by vampires anymore.  Usually it was easier just to turn a human, rather than claim one. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike stomped back downstairs and crossed the room to where Doyle sat waiting for him.   He got the attention of one of the discreet waiters hovering about the room and held up two fingers.  When, the waiter returned with his brandy, Spike made sure to tell the man not to let his glass go empty. 

Plopping into a chair beside the half-demon he whined, “Tell me you brought my smokes.” 

The vampire practically breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Doyle search his pockets before finally retrieving a half of a pack of Marlboro’s and a matchbook. 

“Just don’t let the others get too close a look at ‘em,” Doyle reminded him. 

Spike glanced around the room and noticed how everyone had given him a wide berth.  Apparently, his expression didn’t invite conversation.  For some perverse reason, this pleased the vampire mightily. 

“So, anything else I need to know about…some other thing that I might inadvertently do to bollocks the time continuum or whatever you want to call it?” he asked snarkily. 

‘How did I get picked for this again,’ Doyle asked himself.  ‘Nothing like dealing with a pissed off vampire, and fucking William the Bloody on top of it…’ 

He let the thought go and opened his mouth to speak.   

“Look on the bright side, Spike.  You’ve got the slayer, a place in society, your family…well sorta, anyway.  What more could you want?” 

“My dark princess,” he muttered into his drink.  But, even as he said it, it wasn’t entirely true.  Instead of blue-grey eyes and dark brown hair, it was hazel-green eyes that seemed to haunt him. 

Shaking himself to clear the vision of the slayer dancing before his eyes, he stood up and moved off towards one of the gaming rooms.  May as well play a few hands of whist while he waited for arrangements to be made.  Doyle got up and followed after the vampire; he had some time to kill before the Powers called him back.  Besides, he still had to give the vampire the news that he was going to be stuck here for a while. 

But, better to wait until it was almost time to leave, that way he could make a hasty exit before Spike could retaliate. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

It was about an hour before dawn that Spike got word that arrangements were made for Mrs. Rothworth to drive out tomorrow evening and act as the slayer’s chaperone.  He collected his winnings as he stood, bidding a good night to the gentlemen around him.   

Word had spread like wildfire that the Earl of Arundel was back in London, and several gentlemen had come by to introduce themselves.  He was sure that he’d have several invitations to various ton functions waiting at the townhouse he apparently kept in London. 

Feeling the itch of dawn approaching and not wanting to be stuck in the club for the day, Spike motioned to Doyle that it was time to leave.  The half-demon started towards the door, eager to conclude his latest errand and beat a hasty retreat.  He figured he could tell the vampire just as the sun was cresting over the sky, preventing Spike from chasing after him and committing bodily harm.  Although, he was sure the Powers would step in at that point.  But still…better not to tempt the fates like that. 

Spike was pleased to see his driver perched on the coach seat waiting for him.  The driver, upon seeing his master, quickly hopped down from his seat and opened the coach door with a flourish.  He rolled his eyes at the driver’s exuberance and quickly climbed inside, Doyle following behind.  A moment later, they were off in the direction of his townhouse. 

“You planning on spending the day?” Spike asked. 

“Uh…no…just wanted to make sure you were all settled in here…and to see that you had no problems with your identity.  I’ll be taking off once you’re back at your townhouse.” 

Spike didn’t reply.  He just closed his eyes and laid his head back against the backrest, willing the driver to hurry up and get home.  He hated cutting it close while trying to get inside, away from the approaching daylight.  His demon felt like he was ready to claw his way out of his skin to find shelter. 

Ten minutes later, the carriage stopped, presumably in front of his residence.  The coach wobbled from side to side as the driver got down from his seat and opened the door.  Spike climbed down and stared at the townhouse before him.   

‘I really could get used to this,’ Spike thought. The weary vampire strolled up the walk to the front door – which opened before he managed to reach it.  A bleary-eyed butler greeted him as he crossed the threshold.   

“Good morning, m’lord.” 

Spike grunted a response as he stepped into the foyer, too tired to bother figuring out his name.   Doyle trailed in after him. 

“You staying over, Doyle?” 

“Uh…no.  Actually…” Doyle turned around and glanced outside.  Grateful to see the sun peeking over the horizon, he slowly backed towards the door the butler still held open. 

Spike looked back as he heard the half-demon retreat towards the door.  He didn’t bother to follow, as he saw the sunlight through the open door. 

“There’s just one more thing I’ve gotta tell you before I go.” 

“Yeah?” 

Doyle knew the speed of vampires and stepped outside.  He was also aware of their hearing ability and turned to walk down into the sunlight, seeking the protection it would provide. 

“You’re gonna be stuck here for a while, so…get used to it.”  With that, he disappeared around the corner, leaving behind a cursing vampire, who had no means to retaliate against him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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