CoF - Kallysten - His Childe

Never moving her eyes from Spike’s, Buffy unfastened the first two buttons of her shirt and pulled at the collar to expose her neck. She saw the quick look of surprise flash through the blue pools, then something she had only seen before when they were making love. Lust. Pure, unbridled lust. The same light his gaze had just about all the time when he looked at her, but magnified a million times.

His mouth trailed down her neck to the spot where he had left his mark before. Of their own will, her hands wove their way to the back of his head. At the same time, his arms slipped around her waist and pulled her tight against his hard body.

His lips were against her neck, cool on cool, slightly parted, just enough for his tongue to brush lazily on her skin. He seemed to be waiting, but waiting for what? She understood just as she asked herself the question. She tugged a little on the collar of his duster then on the edge of the shirt, wondering dimly if that was the favorite one she wasn’t supposed to damage. Her mouth rested on the now better-exposed skin, just as his lips were resting on hers. Then, she felt the two slight pressure points of his fangs, not biting yet, just pushing the skin a little. She took the cue and shifted, pressing her fangs against his skin just as gently. His embrace tightened imperceptibly.

Fireworks exploded behind Buffy’s tightly shut eyelids when the first mouthful of thick liquid glided down her throat. She forced herself not to draw too much, suckling lightly, just enough to keep the fireworks going. Spike on the other hand seemed to be pulling on her blood as hard as he could. She didn’t know which one felt better, his blood filling her with life or his mouth claiming the life back. As wave after wave of pleasure rocked her, she became unable to concentrate enough to keep suckling. She just rested her cheek on his shoulder, moaning softly as he took a few more pulls. Eventually he stopped, his tongue lapping at the new marks.

She was barely aware of his hand sliding between them and deftly unbuttoning her shirt all the way down. When the same hand cupped her breast, she shuddered. His thumb rubbed teasingly against an already hard nipple, then was replaced by his mouth. He sucked at the hard bud through the thin material of her bra, soaking it in the process. She was unable to do anything save whimper.

Too soon, his mouth left her breast. He nibbled his way back to her neck, then to her lips, catching the bottom one between blunt teeth. He pulled away and she groaned.

Buffy did as he had asked and opened her eyes, looking at him through fire and gold. For a second, her gaze seemed unfocused, and he wasn’t sure she was seeing him. Then she blinked, and a word passed her lips.

His lips claimed hers again, bruising, greedy. Her mouth opened and he accepted her invitation, his tongue gliding along hers, tasting remnants of his own blood. Deliberately, he let her fang nick his tongue, enjoying the rumble that rose from her throat. Then it was his turn to groan in her mouth as she bit her own tongue, liberating the sweet nectar that tasted of sugar and stars. In the joined mouths, their tongues danced slowly, mingling two bloods into one.

His hands fumbled with the button and zipper of her pants, and he briefly regretted that long leather skirt she had worn that one night a few weeks before. Eventually, he managed to push the offending garment to her knees without breaking the kiss. He caressed her skin along the edges of her panties, teasing, before pushing them down too.

Without waiting for an answer, he pressed his thumb against her clit as he rubbed his fingers against her wetness. She groaned, and he moved his hand away.

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip. His hand slid back to her slightly parted thighs and he ran a finger along her slit. She quivered, but did not make a sound. Grinning, he used his free hand to release a breast from the confines of her bra, and simultaneously flicked her clit and nipple. She hissed, but that was all. Determined to see how long she could restrain her cries, Spike brought his mouth to her nipple and sucked on it. At the same time, he plunged two fingers into her core, rubbing the palm of his hand against her clit as he thrust in and out in cadence with his suckling. Looking up, he saw that her head was thrown back, her eyes tightly shut. Blood seeped from her bottom lip were she had broken the skin. A third finger joined the first two. He now alternated between sucking on her nipple and biting it gently with blunt teeth. Her nails were digging into his scalp, pressing him closer to her. He had learned to play her body like a fine tuned instrument, and he knew she was close, very close, even though she was still quiet. Calling the demon face forward, he grazed a fang along the side of her breast, just enough for a trickle to drip into his mouth. At the same time, he rubbed his thumb forcefully against her clit. At last, she growled as her body shuddered, and he couldn’t repress a grin. For the first time she had said his name as she was coming.

Cupping her chin, he guided her face to his to lick the blood on her lip. He then brought his fingers to his mouth, determined not to waste any of her juices. She rested her ridged forehead against his shoulder, still trying to catch a breath she had no use for.

He was about to suggest moving to a less conspicuous location for some more naughtiness when he caught the noise of a car pulling into the driveway. He cursed silently.

Gently, he helped her adjust her clothes. Funny how she was more than half naked when he still had all his clothing on. Unfair. When the entrance door opened, she was decent, if still looking slightly dazed. Spike settled by her side against the counter, just an inch away from touching her, his duster closed around him to hide his quite obvious erection.

Willow entered the kitchen, the Watcher just a step behind her. They both froze as their gazes moved from one vampire to the other. Puzzled, Spike glanced at Buffy, wondering whether he had buttoned her shirt wrong or something of the same kind. No, she looked just fine… Except for the game face. That was a sure way to make her friends nervous. And, he realized absently, he was still in demon mode too. He touched her arm to get her attention, and when she looked at him he shifted back to his human features. She raised her hand to her forehead, frowning for an instant before the ridges disappeared.

“Buffy… Anya had… She had the dresses altered… She wants us to go try them. Tonight. Now.”

Red’s stammering almost made Spike chuckle, but he thought better of it as he caught the deadly look Giles was throwing at him. Also, the thought of Buffy leaving him with his 'little problem' was frustrating, to say the least.

“Coming Willow!” Buffy said with forced cheerfulness, and again Spike had to repress a laugh at her choice of words.

He was surprised when she brushed her hand on his, giving him at the same time a regretful look.

“Thanks for bringing back Dawn,” she said quietly. “And for the rest too.”

He could almost have sworn she was blushing as she walked toward her waiting friend.

“Oh Red,” he called before they could leave. “I never had a chance to thank you for doing your mojo.”

The Watcher’s mutter brought Spike’s attention back to him. He followed him into the dining room.

Without even a glance at the vampire, Giles filled two glasses with a nice golden liquid. When he handed one to Spike however, his eyes locked on the partially covered fresh mark on his neck.

“Come on, Watcher. You’re not her father and she’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

Slowly, Giles put his glass down on the table and took a stake out of his coat’s inside pocket. Spike’s laugh died instantly, but he didn’t move.

“How do I know she is indeed making her own decisions? I’ve heard of what a Sire can do…”

They remained facing each other in silence for several minutes. In the end, Giles pocketed the stake again. Spike relaxed ever so slightly and drained the remaining of his glass.

“Is that the moment when you promise me torture and death if I ever hurt her?”

The vampire smirked as the other man took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, mumbling: “I need another glass.”

Blushing, the redhead turned her head to the window, but soon her gaze was back to Buffy.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… seeing you with the game face and all… It was wigging.”

Gently, Buffy reached for her friend’s hand, happy when she didn’t flinch at her touch.

“You saw me with the mask before, remember? When we were in that kid’s nightmare? And you’ve known for a week that I’m a vamp.”

Willow smiled apologetically. “Yeah, but it’s still weird. I’ll get used to it. We all will. Just give us time.”

Anya loud exclamation as well as the sudden erratic movements of the car made both girls in the back seat jump. Tara, who was sitting in the passenger seat, grabbed the wheel to return the car into its proper lane as Anya was turning to look at Buffy.

“Oh no!” she protested. “You can’t have bite marks! I don’t want bite marks on the pictures!”

“They’ll be gone by Saturday, Anya, I promise. And I’ll wear a ribbon around my neck. Ok?”

“We can’t have anything go wrong,” she announced forcefully. “This wedding will be perfect.”

The following evening, a few minutes after sunset, Buffy left the house for patrol. As soon as she stepped outside, she caught the familiar cigarette scent, and wondered how he had managed to be there so fast. He had probably been waiting for dusk in the sewer, she decided.

“These things will kill you,” she said as seriously as she could, not even trying to find him.

“Any lead on vampire nests?” she asked after a few steps, uneasy at his silence.

Playfully, she hooked her arm with his. He looked at her in surprise, but didn’t say a word.

She had been antsy all day long. Anya’s last minute dresses changes had been nerve trying. The seamstress had been quite puzzled by her refusal to step in front of the mirror, and without Willow’s and Tara’s help she might have had difficulties explaining her slight lack of reflection. Also, Anya’s comments about biting during foreplay or sex had led the way to questions she wasn’t ready to answer, even to herself.

The morning before, she had woken up next to Angel. By evening, she had been engaged in intense activities with Spike. What surprised her most was that she wasn’t even feeling guilty. She didn’t feel guilty about jumping from one man to the other within a few hours, and she didn’t feel guilty about being with Spike. The first part just confirmed that she had made the right decision in letting Angel go. The second puzzled her to no end. She had broken her relationship with Spike because the guilt had became too much to bear. And now, she was back to him, and it felt… good. Comforting.

They had reached the first cemetery. She let go of his arm and focused her senses on finding a prey. He sat down on a tombstone, lighting a cigarette.

She stepped right in front of him and pulled the cigarette from his lips. Letting it fall to the ground, she crushed it under her booted heel. Then she slapped him. He stared at her, unblinking.

With that, she turned her back to him and stalked away. There was one thing he was good at. Ok, more than one. But he truly excelled at ruining perfectly fine memories with stupid remarks or questions.

She found her first victim of the night. The unsuspecting newly risen vamp, before he was staked, received a few blows she would have given Spike if he hadn’t seemed so weak still. Not that she would tell him that he looked feeble, he would probably consider that a challenge.

She crossed her arms under her breast, staring stubbornly ahead, refusing to hear his whisper.

“Know what? Whether I’m a slut? I can’t get what I want from one man so I grab the next one that comes around and pretend it’s the first? Is that what you think I do?”

“No luv,” he answered quietly. “I think you were hurt. And when people are hurt, they do things they regret afterward.”

She stopped and faced him, looking straight into his eyes. Dark blue they seemed under the half moon.

“I do not regret anything I did yesterday. Nor will I ever. Unless you keep asking stupid questions.”

“I know about a nest,” he said after a while. “A little one. Five or six vamps maximum. Interested?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, a predatory grin coming to her lips. “That is a stupid question again, Spike. Where is it?”

Spike just stood by the entrance of the mausoleum, preventing anyone from escaping but not stepping in to help. She was having way too good of a time for him to intrude. So he just watched her, proud that such a beautiful and dangerous creature was his Childe. Flying from vamp to vamp, she was dancing amidst ashes, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. All too soon, she was standing alone, her eyes scanning around her, as if hoping to find more adversaries, however inadequate they were.

“This didn’t use to be so much fun!” she commented as she was striding back to him, a merry jump to her step.

He looked around them, making sure no one was close, before answering as quietly as he could. “You’ve changed, luv. Vamps like violence, that’s in our nature, just as much as the hunt or…”

He laughed so hard he had to wipe tears off his eyes. “I stand corrected, pet. You haven’t changed that much!”

They patrolled for another half hour, during which she dusted a couple of stupid minions who had tried to ambush her. He had expected her to patrol all night long, as she used to with the poof, but she explained that she needed her beauty rest for the wedding. A bit disgruntled, he walked her back home, more by habit than necessity.

“It’s going to rain all day,” she said merrily. “No sun to hide from.”

“Anya wanted rain. She’s heard somewhere that rainy weddings are the happiest.”

He shook his head. As much as he liked the demon girl, he had to admit she was crazy. Obviously she was, after all she was marrying Harris. In any case, rainy day meant he would be able to go get some blood. He should have gone after patrol, but he wasn’t in the mood to go all the way to the hospital. The kid had been cute and all, bringing him pig blood from the butcher since he was too tired to go out, but he missed his O-neg.

“Do you want to be my date?” she said more slowly. “To the wedding, I mean.”

He chuckled softly. A few days ago, he had been sure she would stake him rather than give him the time of night. And now she was asking him on a date. Granted, the whelp’s wedding wasn’t his idea of a perfect date, but it was still something.

“You sure Harris isn’t going to stake me on sight?” he asked with feigned worry.

“Anya said you could come as long as you stay away from him. And as long as you don’t bite me until after the pictures are taken. She really insisted on that part.”

“Of course you do!” she protested. “That is, if you own anything dressy…”

She eyed him doubtfully, and he repressed a laugh. They had reached her home, and he was hoping she would invite him in to finish what they had started the night before. However, she just brushed her lips on his cheek before getting to the door.

He nodded, watching the door close behind her. Damn all weddings, beauty rests and dressy clothes. Damn him for not trying his luck in the mausoleum. Damn her for being so bleeding gorgeous. This was going to be a long night.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I assume that most readers have seen Hell's Bells, and therefore I only go over the parts that I'm changing to suit my story. If you haven't seen it and want to fill in the blanks, may I suggest you run a search on Yahoo for (Hell's Bells + Buffy + script). I'm having a lot of fun incorporating as much of the original dialogue into this, by the way.

“Who would have thought that not having a reflection could be a good thing?”

The sound of thunder punctuated Buffy’s quiet remark. She was standing with Willow in front of the full size mirror, but only Willow’s horrified look was reflecting back at them.

Buffy nodded, again thanking whomever for sparing her the sight of herself in that monstrosity that Anya had chosen for her bridesmaids. The dresses seemed even more hideous now that they were actually going to wear them all day than when they had just been trying them at the store.

Willow snorted. “Duty-schmooty. I'm supposed to be the best man. Shouldn't I be all Marlene Dietrichy in a dashing tuxedo number?”

Fingering the ribbon that encircled her neck, Buffy gave an amused look to Willow.

“No, ‘cause that would be totally unfair. We all must participate equally in the cosmic joke of bridesmaids-dom.”

Willow couldn’t seem to take her eyes away from the mirror, and it reminded Buffy of the gloomy fascination some people have for car wrecks.

“Maybe if I ask Anya ,” the redhead said unconvinced, “I can still go with the traditional blood larva and burlap. I mean, she was a vengeance demon for like a thousand years, she'd know all the most flattering... larvae.”

Shrugging, Buffy looked around for her shoes and slipped them on, noticing how they lost their reflection as soon as she touched them.

Resting her hands on Willow’s shoulders, Buffy pulled her away from the mirror and its horrors.

“I think Anya's way too stressed to think right now,” she said gently. “Between changing the wedding date because of my illness, Xander's relatives and her... demons...”

“Ohmigod, last night… You were so lucky to miss that rehearsal dinner. It was a zoo without the table manners. And I bet it got worse after I left.”

Buffy had felt a bit guilty about not attending the dinner, but she had to patrol. Patrolling was her excuse to ask Spike to come. No patrol, no date. But hearing that it had been so dreadful, she didn’t feel so bad anymore about missing the rehearsal.

“Does everyone really believe the story that Anya's people are "circus folk»?” She asked, a bit incredulous.

“You don’t know Xander’s family as well as I do,” Willow said with a sigh. “As long as you give them something to drink, they won’t ask…”

Willow was interrupted by the door opening to give way to Anya. The bride to be, still in her bathrobe, froze as she saw the two friends. Her eyes grew wide and she covered her mouth with a hand, as if stifling a yell of horror. Willow and Buffy exchanged a worried look. It was a bit late for Anya to come to her senses about their dresses…

A radiant smile illuminated her face as she stepped to the vampire and witch and hugged both of them. Buffy and Willow grinned at each other over her shoulders.

Grumbling under his non-existent breath, Spike knocked on the door, then stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his duster. The absurdity of the whole situation was monumental. He was going to the wedding of the human he quite possibly hated most on earth, in the middle of the bloody day, during a storm that very probably wasn’t natural, and to top it all he was dressed like a bloody nancy boy. He was on the point of returning back to the crypt when he remembered that Buffy had actually asked him for a date. Simultaneously the door opened in front of him.

The kid’s pouting face lit up suddenly. “Spike! I didn’t know you were coming!”

He observed Dawn, making the mental note to keep an eye on her in case boys at the wedding got ideas.

“I can’t say I like the color,” he said with a smile, “but you look beautiful.”

She blushed furiously, looking down at her dress. “Yeah, you can call me asparagus girl,” she joked.

She seemed to notice what he was hiding under the duster, and pulled the coat open to have a better look.

“I don’t,” he said with a frown. “This is the very first and very last time ever.”

That was true. Until the night before, he didn’t even own a tuxedo. A little ‘shopping’ had remedied to that in the last hours of the night.

“Come on,” she cajoled, “say you’ll wear one when I get married. Pretty please?”

He blinked a couple of times. She was a kid! How could she already think about getting married?! And what was it with women and weddings anyway?

Dawn replied something, but he didn’t hear. He had just noticed Buffy coming down the steps with Willow and Anya. Even in that horrible green puffy excuse of a dress, she was beautiful and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was brought back to the present by the bride to be poking a finger at his chest.

“Remember,” she said with a tone that promised vengeance if he didn’t comply, “You can’t bite Buffy, or anyone for that matter, until after the pictures are taken.”

He gave her his best smirk. “I got it, pet. Will keep my fangs to myself. What about…”

He was about to ask about whether Buffy was allowed to bite him, but the pleading look that she threw at him clearly requested that he drop the subject.

“What about Harris?” he finished. “Tell me where he is so I can avoid him.”

“We’re going to the lodge right now,” Willow supplied. “Xander will join us there, and the guests will start arriving in half an hour. Which means we’re late!”

Willow, Dawn and Anya scattered toward unknown destinations, and Spike found himself alone facing Buffy.

“Hey.” The shy smile she gave him could almost have reanimated his heart. “So I see you do own some dressy clothes. Trying to impress me?”

He couldn’t repress a smirk, and his doubts about wearing that stupid tux evaporated. “Is it working?”

Buffy looked at him a moment, frowning a bit. “It would look better without the duster.”

Without a word, he took off the leather piece, and draped it over the stairway ramp. “I’ll leave it here, then. Will get it back when the grand occasion is over.”

He chuckled inwardly, having found the perfect excuse to come to her place after the wedding. For a few seconds, they just watched each other. He noticed the ribbon encircling her neck, but said nothing about it, preferring instead to comment on her obvious delight.

“It's nice, watching you be happy,” he said softly. “There was a time when I thought I’d never see you smiling again. And I was trying so hard for these smiles…”

His voice trailed. “It’s nice,” he repeated. “You almost seem to glow.”

Her smile deepened, coming very close to a self-depreciating grin. “That's because my dress is radioactive,” she joked.

As if following a perfectly timed choreography, Willow, Dawn, Giles and Anya converged at the same time to the entry hall, where Buffy and Spike were still standing.

“Time to run!” Anya exclaimed. “The bridesmaids with me in the limo, the men follow in my car, we were supposed to be at the lodge five minutes ago!”

In a dazzling flash of green, the ladies were gone, leaving Spike with the Watcher. They exchanged a glance, and the same word escaped their lips, half curse, half puzzled wonder.

It was with the same wonder and puzzlement that, a few minutes later, the two men observed Willow as she fit a veil over a bison’s head.

“Isn’t there a law punishing cruelty against animals?” Spike commented to the Watcher.

Giles only shrugged. The Witch was finally done, and stepping down from her ladder, she admired her work proudly. Spike gave a quick glance to Dawn, who had also been watching the scene, and was oddly happy to notice she seemed to think this was weird too.

This was all very well, he thought glumly, but he hadn’t come here to look at bison’s head covered in tulle. He hadn’t seen Buffy since they had arrived, and he was beginning to get grumpy.

With a sigh, Buffy finally managed to hook Xander’s cummerbund around his waist, silently thanking her combined Slayer and vampire strength. As the groom turned back toward her, she gave him a bright smile and started to fumble with his bow tie. She was glad that he seemed to have accepted that she was a vampire now, and there was no trace of anger or pity in his eyes any more. Instead, there was only joy.

Her eyes widened and she gasped, trying her best at keeping a straight face. “Omigod, Xander Maybe you're pregnant!”

He laughed a little. “Or maybe, I dunno... maybe I'm just happy. I’m marrying the most wonderful woman ever and all my friends are there to share the day with me.”

At his words, tears came up to Buffy’s eyes. She tried very hard to fight them back while continuing to try tying his bow tie.

They shared a quiet look and Buffy continued: “And happy for me. Happy that I am here to see you and Anya get married. Happy that you’re still my friend.”

She felt the tears coming back in force. After a last tug at the tie, she gave up.

“Then you’ll still be my friend when I tell you I can tie this? Isn't your best man supposed to do this anyway?”

By the look he gave her, she knew that he had guessed how much his words meant to her. But he didn’t comment on it, saying instead: “She said she had something important to do.”

Nodding, Buffy watched him tie the demonic bow, wondering why he had let her fight with it when he obviously knew how to do it better that she did. When he was done, she handed him his jacket and he slipped it on, adjusting his lapels carefully. He then twirled in front of her.

Laughing softly as he beamed at her, she gave him a hug. She had almost missed this. If not for Spike’s decision, she not only wouldn’t have been present for the wedding, but her friends’ happy occasion probably would have been saddened too. Again, she regretted having called him selfish. Again, she realized how true his words were when he had said many people loved and needed her. Again, the tears welled in her eyes.

Ignoring the ramblings of a drunken man, who apparently was the whelp’s father, Spike crossed the crowded room. He had just spotted Buffy, after fruitlessly looking for her for a good half hour. Before he could say a word however, she grabbed his elbow and dragged him along her, whispering: “You get Mr. Harris. Keep him away from the bar and out of trouble for a moment. I’ll calm down his wife and the most excited of the demons. Got it?”

“Thank you,” she interrupted with a smile, “I knew I could count on you.”

With that, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips and pushed him to the man who was now insulting the demons, unaware of how close he was to his own death. With a curse, Spike grabbed him by the arm and led him forcefully to one of the corners of the room, ignoring his protests.

“So, I understand you’re the wh… Harris father?” Spike said conversationally while grinding his teeth.

“Yes I am,” the drunken man replied haughtily. “I’m the one paying for all that stuff.”

He gestured to the room for emphasis. Spike nodded, repressing an irritated growl. He glanced at the room, noticing that Buffy had once again disappeared. Having nothing better to do, he decided to play her game, hoping to earn cookies points.

Somebody would have to pay for that, he repeated to himself as he listened to the tedious man. Rarely in his unlife had he come to hate someone as quickly. He was almost sorry for the whelp to have such a wanker for a father.

After a little while, as the guests had taken place in their seats and were waiting for the ceremony to begin at last, Spike managed to rid himself of Mr. Harris. Apparently, the man had been more than happy to find someone ready to listen to him as he vehemently criticized, in no particular order and in details, his wife, son, future daughter in law and family, co-workers, and the IRS.

Needing a cigarette very badly, the vampire walked outside the lodge, leaning by the door, seeking a little quiet time. His idea of a date certainly didn’t include a girl who kept disappearing and babysitting a drunken fool.

As he was taking a long drag on his fag, the groom stepped out of the building, closing the door behind him. He looked completely shaken, not that Spike cared. As his eyes fell on the vampire, his expression turned sour.

Xander’s fists closed, and Spike tensed, ready to duck. But strangely, the blow didn’t come.

Spike arched an eyebrow, pondering whether to probe or not. With an internal sigh, he decided that letting the whelp run away would ruin the wedding, which would upset Buffy, which would lead to nothing good for him later that night.

“You must be deaf, dumb and blind if you don’t want a woman like her,” Spike commented

Xander seemed to remember he wasn’t alone, and threw an angry look at the vampire.

“Don’t you dare judge me! You have no idea how bad things will turn if I marry her! I’m doing her a favor by stopping this now.”

Spike threw the remaining of his cigarette to the floor. “You’re right about one thing. I have no idea what your marriage will be like. And neither do you. You won’t know until you actually get there.”

He took a step toward Xander, the shadow of a smirk on his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid, Harris. You’ve fought more demons with the Slayer than there are freaks behind this door. And now you’re afraid of a woman?”

“Yes you are,” Spike cut him. “You’re afraid of hurting her. You’re afraid of not making her happy. Guess what. Everybody is. Of course you can never give her all that she deserves. No one can. But you can try. And try your best. And try again if it doesn’t work. At least, that’s what you do when you love. Do you love her, whelp? Or was it all a show?”

Walking by Xander, Spike opened the door and stood by it, lighting another cigarette, waiting. “What will it be, Harris? Run like a coward? Or try like a man?”

The brunette gave him a hard look. “What do you know about being a man? You’re a thing.”

Xander glanced inside, where he could see a few of the guests. The quartet was beginning to play softly.

Spike gave him an offended look. “As if I would admit exchanging three civil words with you. I have a reputation to keep!”

Just then, Willow appeared by the door, giving a puzzled look at Spike before turning her attention to Xander.

Xander passed by Spike without giving him a glance, taking Willow outstretched hand. Then he paused, and still without looking at the vampire, said: “Are you coming or what, Spike? It’s not like we’re going to wait for you to finish your cigarette.”

Spike crushed the half smoked fag under his heel and followed the two Scoobies inside, grinning with self-satisfaction. Buffy would have no reason to be upset. And, hopefully, she’d give him reasons to be happy…

The string quartet started playing the processional, and all the guests turned to watch, coming down the aisle, one after the other, slow and solemn, Willow, Halfrek, Buffy and Tara. The three bridesmaids took their place on the left, while the groom’s best friend settled by his side on the right. Anya finally appeared and everyone stood as she started gliding down the aisle, resplendent, her eyes fixed on Xander. Buffy couldn’t help smiling at the happiness that emanated from her.

As the bride reached the altar, the minister started talking, but his words were covered by a roar.

“There will be no wedding, Anyanka!” he shouted again as he started coming forward.

In a few strides, Buffy had reached the creature that was so rudely interrupting the ceremony. After a couple of kicks and blows, she twisted its neck at it fell at her feet, lifeless. She raised her head to see all the guests staring at her, some with complete incomprehension, some with fear, a few with respect. She was suddenly very glad she couldn’t blush.

“Unless someone else wants to object,” she said as calmly as she could, “the ceremony can continue.”

After a brief pause, the minister started talking again, his voice slightly shaking. Anya didn’t seem troubled by the incident, and Xander’s frown disappeared after a couple of seconds. Buffy took advantage of the fact that people were looking toward the front again to grab the slain demon by an arm and pull it away. She was soon joined by Spike, who helped her hide the thing in one of the dressing rooms. They would have time later to dispose of the body.

Quickly, they returned to the salon where the ceremony was proceeding. Unwilling to attract attention again by returning to the altar, Buffy stood behind everybody, by the end of the aisle. Spike settled next to her and took her hand, making her smile unconsciously.

“I, Anya, want to marry you, Xander, because I love you and I always will. Before I met you, I was, like, a different person. Not even a person, really. And I had seen what love did to people. It was hurt. And sadness. Alone was better. And then suddenly there was you, and you knew me, you saw me, and it was this...thing. You make me feel warm, and safe. So I get it now, I finally get love, Xander. I really do.”

There was a short silence, and Xander’s voice rose, strangled, thick with emotion.

“I, Xander, want to marry you, Anya, because I love you and always will. I can’t promise you’ll never be hurt. I can’t promise you’ll never be sad. But I do promise every day of my life I will try my best to make you happy. And if my best isn’t enough, I will try even harder. And never stop trying. I promise, Anya. I really do.”

Spike’s pressure on her hand grew just a little and Buffy looked at him briefly, surprised to find him actually paying attention to the ceremony. Her eyes returned to the couple in time to see them exchange their rings and the traditional kiss. At the same instant, Spike’s lips brushed her cheek, and he whispered: “I promise, Buffy.”

Pictures were taken. Lots of pictures. Gloomily, Buffy realized that despite her hopes, she would eventually see herself in the green horror, but she managed to keep smiling for posterity’s sake. All the while, Spike was standing behind the photographer, his eyes on her whether she was actually posing for a picture or waiting for Anya’s next directions. A very faint grin was gracing his lips, and she was sure she knew exactly what he was thinking. He had promised not to bite her until the pictures were taken. And now they almost were finished.

She couldn’t help looking at him too, still surprised that he had actually dressed up for the occasion. She would never have thought he would look so good in a tuxedo. The fabric was dark blue, almost black, on top of a white shirt. Black shoes and a blue tie the same shade as his eyes completed the attire. His almost white hair was slicked back. He was just gorgeous, there was no other word. Idly, she wondered whether she would see him looking so classy ever again.

As the session was coming to an end, Buffy presented a request to the happy couple, ready to beg if needed. Xander surprised her by simply nodding his agreement. Anya only beamed at the chance of one more picture. As the Scoobies organized themselves one more time around the Bride and Groom, Buffy hurried to Spike and, taking his hand, pulled him after her. She settled next to Dawn on Anya’s left, Spike by her side. Willow, Tara and Giles were on the other side, next to Xander. In a blinding flash, the picture was taken and the group dispersed, but Buffy’s hand didn’t let go of Spike’s.

It was finally time to join the rest of the guests in the dining room. Since Buffy’s little ‘intervention’ during the ceremony, the demons had been particularly subdued, the rumor running among them that the Slayer was a guest and that she was pissed off. And who could blame her, having to wear such an awful dress? Unwilling to give her any reason to demonstrate her abilities again, the ‘circus people’ had collectively decided to ignore any taunting or rude remark from the human guests. The humans, in turn, still not quite sure of what had been going on with the blonde bridesmaid, were mostly keeping to themselves Wary eyes now darted more often toward the diminutive woman with a violent streak than toward the bride’s freaky family.

The dinner went just fine, though Buffy didn’t pay much attention to what she was eating or to the conversations. She was observing the peroxided blonde seated across her, the words he had whispered at the end of the ceremony still singing in her ears. It would have been easy to believe he had just repeated something he had promised before, that as her Sire he would be there to take care of her. Yet, knowing that he loved her, the words were totally different. However hard she had pushed him away in the past, he had stayed. Nothing she had done or said had ever been enough to make him give up. And now she was sure he never would. A part of her was exhilarated by the thought. Another part was more scared than she had ever been.

To his great surprise, Spike was actually having a good time at the whelp’s wedding. He would have enjoyed a little more action, having thought that the tension between humans and demons would quickly evolve into a nice brawl. But weirdly enough, no fights, no blows, not even verbal arguments were to be heard. Oh well…

Sitting across the table, the Slayer seemed to enjoy herself too. She was making small talk with the rest of the table, but he had noticed that always her eyes were coming back to him, and he had to restrain himself not to just grab her and find a more private spot. And blood certainly wasn't the only thing in his mind.

All the while, he was keeping a distracted eye on Dawn. The girl was at the next table, sitting with a demon that seemed to be about her age. The boy was a bit too familiar to Spike’s liking, touching the bit’s hand while leaning toward her to whisper in her ear. Yes, way too familiar. He’d need to have a little chat with the kid later.

The dinner was over, cake frosting had been wiped from Xander’s face, and the newly weds were finishing their first dance. There had been an awkward moment when D’Hoffryn and Mrs. Harris, having opened the dance with Anya and Xander, found themselves compelled by custom to dance together, but they both survived the ordeal.

Excusing himself from the table, Spike first stopped by Dawn’s table. The Nibblet had just run off in the direction of the restrooms, leaving her new friend free for Spike to scare. A flash of his fangs and a few quiet words were sufficient to convince the now stammering kid not to try anything less than honorable if he wanted to survive the wedding.

Quite satisfied with himself, the vampire approached the DJ. After a short discussion, he was skipping – of course not, he wasn’t skipping, Big Bads don’t skip - back to his table. Standing by Buffy, he touched her shoulder lightly.

She beamed at him as she took his offered hand and rose. They reached the dance floor just as the music he had requested was starting. He slid his arms around her waist, and hers sneaked around his neck. He grinned at her look of surprise when she recognized the song.

It must have been cold there in my shadow
To never have sunlight on your face
You were content to let me shine
That's your way
You always walked a step behind

He nodded, holding her tightly against him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he nuzzled her hair.

So I was the one with all the glory
While you were the one with all the strain
A beautiful face without a name
For so long
A beautiful smile to hide the pain

Of course he remembered. It had been about two years before. The Witch and her spells gone wrong. Or not so wrong…

Did you ever know that you're my hero?
And everything I would like to be
I can fly higher than an eagle
For you are the wind beneath my wings

For a few hours, he had been Buffy’s fiancé. It still sounded weird, even now. At the time, he wasn’t aware of the depth of his feelings for her. The whole experience had helped him start to realize. He had felt so good as she was sitting on his lap. So happy when she had said yes. So lost when the spell had been broken and she had looked at him with horror. He had hid the pain, to himself as well as the others, but it had been one more cut in his unbeating heart.

It might have appeared to go unnoticed
But I've got it all here in my heart
I want you to know, I know the truth
Of course I've known it
I would be nothing without you

And yes, he remembered. Every word she had said. Every look she had given him. Every touch and kiss. Every smile and pout. It had been then that they kissed for the first time. It had been then that she said she loved him, which she had never done again, even when they were shagging every night. It had been then that she had told him about her wedding dreams. And the song she wanted for their first dance. Oh no, he would never forget.

Did you ever know that you're my hero?
You're everything I wish I could be
I can fly higher than an eagle
For you are the wind beneath my wings

As the song played, the world ceased to exist for Buffy. There was just her, her Sire, and Bette Midler’s voice.

Since Willow’s spell, she had thought of their engagement every time she had listened to that song. When it had happened, she had no feelings for him. He was just an annoying pest, too harmless to waste a stake on. Still, when the spell had been broken, she had felt like she had lost something, after having felt complete and so perfectly loved for just a few hours. A lot of things had happened since. His admission to loving her. Glory and the way he had helped. Her death and his promise to take care of Dawn. Her return and the comfort he had given her. The way she had broken the relationship they had, because it seemed so wrong. His decision to turn her. His presence every time she needed him. He had changed.

And so had she. She was glad he was part of her life. She was proud to be his Childe. She cared about him. A lot. Very deeply. And the song seemed to have a whole new meaning now.

She raised her head to look at his eyes. “You won’t ever leave me, will you?”

She shook her head slowly. “I think I’ve known for a while. But I couldn’t let myself believe it.”

His arms squeezed her a bit more tightly. He wasn’t smiling any more, seriousness filling his face.

“Believe me, luv. I’m not going anywhere. Unless I turn to ashes, but even then I will still be in your blood.”

His head came down to her neck, his lips rubbing against the ribbon that hid his marks.

However hard he was trying to hide it, hope was piercing in his voice. Buffy hated herself for not being able to give him the answer she knew he wished to hear.

His face came back up, and she saw that he meant it. He would wait for her. After all, he had been waiting a long time already. Sealing the distance between them, she brought her lips to his like a caress, closing her eyes. The kiss lingered and deepened, his tongue sliding into her mouth to touch hers. At the taste of blood, her eyes snapped open, only to meet blue depths that grinned at her surprise. He must have shifted to game face and back too fast for anyone to notice. She accepted the offering, enjoying the taste of his essence. She would have time later to return the gift in kind.

When 11 o’clock came, Giles was in Sunnydale’s airport, saying his goodbyes to Buffy. The rest of the Scoobies had saluted him as he had left the reception, but she had insisted to accompany him to the airport. He hadn’t been able to say no, even when Spike had made clear he was coming along.

They were quite a sight, really. Buffy in her acid green fashion mistake, Spike in his impeccable tuxedo, and himself in the very English tweed he had slipped back on before leaving the wedding site. Still, they had attracted even more stares a bit earlier, when they had carried the body of the dead demon from the lodge to the trunk of Anya’s car. They had dumped it in the river on the way to the airport, and Giles was a bit chagrined for not having had the time to identify what kind of demon it had been.

The vampire rolled his eyes. “I was already driving when your parents were newborns, Watcher.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed for a second, and his face was split by that insufferable grin of his.

Giles nodded absently, and Spike moved back a few steps, giving him and Buffy a little space.

“You’ll be fine, dear,” he reassured, patting her back. “I know you’re strong enough to take anything life sends your way. You’ve proven it many times.”

She stepped back and nodded gravely, swallowing hard. “I’ll make you proud, you’ll see.”

“Buffy, I’m already proud of you. You’re more than a Watcher… a father could ever want.”

The huge smile she gave him let him know he had found the right words. God, leaving was becoming harder every time…

“Take care of you. And whatever you do, remember that your friends and I are here to support you. Not to judge your choices or feelings.”

That was the closest thing to a blessing he could make himself give. His world had been turned upside down when the young lady that was his charge, and almost his daughter, had become a vampire. Not just any kind of vampire, but a vampire with a soul. That she tolerated the presence of Spike, who, if chipped, was still soulless, was in itself disturbing. But she actually seemed to look for and enjoy his company. It was hard for Giles to accept. He wasn’t sure exactly of what was going on between these two, and he wasn’t sure either that he wanted to know. Whatever it was, he only hoped that Spike wasn’t taking advantage of the Sire/ Childe bond. Strangely enough, he didn’t believe the vampire was. After all, if that had been his goal, it would have been much easier for Spike to forget the whole soul restoration idea.

The final call for his flight was given. A last hug, a last wave, and he was boarding the plane, his mind already drifting to what he was going to tell the Council.

Spike took his eyes off the road for an instant to glance at Buffy by his side. She wasn’t crying, but she certainly looked pretty close.

“I’m not in the mood for partying any more,” she replied. “Willow said she’d keep an eye on Dawn and bring her back.”

The rest of the ride was done in silence. Spike knew she was hurt by the Watcher’s departure, but he couldn’t find any word of comfort to offer her. And by the look of her, she wouldn’t want a more physical kind of comfort. Mentally cursing Giles for ruining what could have been a perfect evening, Spike followed his Childe inside her house. He was grabbing the duster he had left there earlier when Buffy’s hand caught his wrist gently.

He saw the sadness in her eyes, but knew better than to think he was causing it. It was her Watcher leaving that was breaking her heart.

He reached to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Anything you want.”

He nodded. Expecting her to ask for his blood, he started to pull at his tie. She understood immediately and stopped him, resting a hand on his.

“Well, I do want it, yes. But what I want most is… can you… will you let me sleep in your arms?”

She finished her question in a whisper, and for an instant he wasn’t sure he had heard correctly.

She smiled at him, hesitant. “I guess sleeping isn’t quite what you had in mind, uh?”

He pressed his lips to her silk hair. “Don’t worry about it, luv,” he whispered. “You want to go to bed now? Watch telly? Or what else?”

Scooping her in his arms, he carried her up the steps to her bedroom, leaving her at the door.

“I think you should get out of this dress by yourself, luv. Probably safer for the sleeping plan.”

Getting back downstairs to the kitchen, Spike grabbed blood in the fridge and warmed two mugs. He hadn’t fed since morning. Feeding from her was tempting, but she probably hadn’t fed in a while either. Also, that was sure to lead to much more than just sleep. He drained his mug in the kitchen before bringing the other up to Buffy. He found her sitting in front of her vanity desk, clad in her kittens PJs. She was staring blankly at the mirror, a forgotten brush in her hand. He placed the mug in front of her, and, gently taking the brush from her hand, started combing her hair.

“You’ll get used to it after a while,” he offered. “You won’t even notice mirrors any more.”

She gave a small jump at his word, seemingly coming out of her thoughts. She became aware of the warm blood in front of her and grabbed it, sipping it slowly.

As he was done with his brushing, Spike noticed that she still had the ribbon around her neck. He untied it carefully, his fingers brushing against the tender scar. He was about to give her the length of satin, but on second thought he slipped it in his pocket.

He then started undressing, carelessly letting his clothes fall in a heap on the floor, amused by the furtive glances she was throwing at him. He stopped as he was down to only his pants.

“Done with your snack, pet? Then hop in the bed. I’ll turn the light off.”

The ghost of a pout, on her lips for only a second, made him chuckle quietly. As he had thought, she had been waiting for a free show. Once she was under the cover, he checked the curtains before flicking the light off. He then divested himself of his pants, wishing for the first time in years that he had bothered with some underwear. He slipped in the bed behind her, spooning against her, kissing the back of her head. It never ceased to amaze him how perfectly their bodies fit together.

Without the sounds of her breathing, it was impossible to tell whether she was asleep or not. He finally let himself drift into sleep, his arm wrapped around her waist, smiling at the thought that, for the first time, he was in her bed.

For a long time, Buffy remained awake, staring straight at the darkness in front of her, the events of the day replaying in her mind. Xander’s acceptance of what she was now. The demon interrupting the ceremony and her slaying it without needing to think twice. The ceremony and the vows. Spike’s promise. Their dance. Giles leaving. And now Spike in her bed, naked as a newborn, but making no attempt to get into her panties. His arm around her felt good. His body along hers felt even better. Before sleep claimed her, she remembered something Anya had said during her vows, about feeling safe and warm. Dimly, she understood what she had meant.

Spike awoke slowly, becoming aware of several sensations one after the other. His fingers were touching something silky. Soft. Not fabric. Her hair. Something wet against his shoulder. It took him a little moment to realize it was her mouth, and even longer to understand she was softly suckling on his blood. He hadn’t even felt the fangs pierce his skin. The last two things he noticed were that her hand was stroking his cock, and that he was rock hard. And he wondered how he had been able to sleep while she was touching him. His hand glided to her back, caressing. Immediately she stopped her suckling and her face came up next to his. The room was dark because of the drawn curtains, but he could see her smiling features.

He blinked a couple of times and grinned lazily. “Not as nice as waking up next to you.”

Her lips came to his in a gentle kiss that gradually deepened. He reached between their bodies, unfastening the buttons of her top then sliding it off one shoulder. He broke the kiss and softly pushed her to her back, stripping her completely of the PJs vest in the process. His fingers trailed on her pale skin, tantalizingly avoiding her breast. When he reached the edge of her sleeping pants, she raised her hips and he pulled them off her.

She lay there, immobile, watching him as he watched her. His eyes wandered over her nude form, marveling at her flawless pale skin, gliding along her smooth curves.

Not touching her became unbearable. His mouth descended on her right breast while his hand cupped the left. He teased the hardening nipple, flicking it with his tongue and lightly pulling at it with blunt teeth. At the same time, her other peak was enduring the merciless assault of his fingers, which in turn rubbed, tweaked and pinched. The double attack soon had her whimpering.

Abandoning her breast, his hand ran over her skin to her thighs and she parted them slightly. He brushed a finger over her clit, making her body quiver. The same finger slid inside her, finding her more than ready for him. His mouth left her breast as he positioned himself between her legs. He looked at her face and paused, just pressing against her entrance. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her lips. At his lack of movement, her eyelids fluttered and she looked at him, questioning. At the same moment, he pushed into her in one forceful motion. He almost came right then at the look of ecstasy that filled her face. Leaning down to capture her mouth, he settled in a slow rhythm. His tongue moved at the same pace as his cock, plunging deep into her mouth and caressing her. Before long however, her hips were raising against his, accelerating the tempo, changing the angle to make him brush against her clit with each stroke. Needlessly panting, he pulled away from her lips, and returned to the nipple he had teased earlier. Her fingers locked behind his head, pushing him against her breast.

Instinctively, he knew what her moan was pleading for. He shifted to game face without a thought and sank his fangs in the side of her breast. Her body convulsed under his, her inner walls squeezing him delightfully. Thrusting deep into her one last time, he sucked on the punctures forcefully. Blood flooded his mouth as he came. Again, her body shook, even harder than before, and a wordless shout escaped her lips.

He slipped off her body, his head resting on her chest. Her fingers were playing in his hair as he lapped at the new marks he had given her. Only he would see these, he thought happily.

Buffy stared blankly at the door behind which her Sire and lover had just disappeared. She barely felt Dawn’s hand resting on her shoulder, barely heard her words.

“Buffy… What did he mean about pretending and lying? You’re not just pretending to love him, are you?”

Closing her eyes, Buffy took a deep breath, trying to force the tears down. How could she explain to Dawn what she barely understood herself?

The soothing hand left her shoulder abruptly. She forced herself to meet Dawn’s gaze, cringing at what she saw there. The girl wasn’t happy. And that was the understatement of the century.

“You sleep with him, you ask him to live with you, and you don’t even love him?”

“You don’t need to explain anything. You use him. He loves you more than anything and you use him like a thing.”

Hearing in Dawn’s mouth words she had said herself a few weeks before was like a knife plunging into her unbeating heart. She watched silently as her sister climbed up the stairs, her door closing with a loud noise.

Was it only fifteen minutes earlier that everything had seemed so perfect? Spike was moving in, Dawn was thrilled, and she was feeling at peace. Content. Satisfied. Still not quite sure about her feelings for him, but happy that he was there for her. And now he had left. Dawn hated her. Her world was crumbling around her, again.

She knew he wouldn’t go far. Even if he had not told Dawn he would be in his crypt, she wouldn’t have worried about him leaving town. He had promised. She knew how he felt about his promises. Also, she remembered what he had said about needing to see her, needing to take care of her. She would have bet her soul he would be following her when she went on patrol that night.

Willow’s voice made her jump. She had forgotten the redhead was still there, lost as she was in her gloomy thoughts. Her friend came closer, an uncertain smile on her lips.

“I couldn’t let him control you, Buffy. It’s not right. He can’t do that to you.”

Buffy shook her head. “He really isn’t controlling me in any way, Willow. I do want him. I need him.”

“Buffy, you just told Dawn you don’t love him. It’s all because he is your Sire. That’s why you think you want him, but it’s just the bond between you two. Angel explained it to me.”

Buffy’s body tensed as Willow pronounced Angel’s name, and she pulled away from her.

“He is just worried for you. He doesn’t want Spike to take advantage of you. And neither do I. If Spike had nothing to feel guilty for, he wouldn’t have left.”

For a second, Buffy considered telling her friend about exactly who was using whom and how as far as Spike and herself were concerned. But she couldn’t make herself say it. Admitting to it now would be admitting to months of lying. It would only open again the door to the question of whether or not she loved Spike. She wouldn’t, couldn’t answer that now. And that was the whole problem.

Having no way to convince Willow, Buffy left the redhead and returned to her bedroom. She stared at the bed for a while, the sheets still rumpled from their morning activities. She noticed a piece of fabric on the floor and picked it up. Spike’s tie. Instinctively, she brought it to her face, breathing his scent. She crawled between the sheets, still holding the silk length between her fingers, and closed her eyes, imagining she had never left that bed and his embrace.

Back in his crypt, Spike was pacing furiously and smoking cigarette after cigarette. He had thought that everything was going better, and there he was back to square one. Even worse. Now the Witch thought he was controlling Buffy. She had been decent to him before, no chance of that now. The Nibblet had been so happy, she probably hated him now that he had left the house. At least she didn’t believe he was playing with her sister’s mind. It was just the opposite, in fact. She was playing with his mind. Alternating fire and ice until he didn’t know what to feel any more. A century with an insane Drusilla had not shattered his reason, but a few days with Buffy might be enough to make him crazy. Or maybe he had been mad to begin with. Mad to fall in love with the Slayer. Mad to turn her. Mad to give her back her soul. Mad not to just use the power he had on her like he was suspected of doing.

Eventually, he got tired of walking around, and let himself fall on the bed. He pulled out of his pocket the ribbon she had worn on her neck and started playing with it, turning it between his burnt fingers like a charm. In his anger, he had stupidly stuck his hand in the sun to open the sewer's manhole. The burnt flesh didn't hurt any more, but it looked nasty. He was lying on her blanket, the one he had used to protect himself from the same bloody sun. It smelled like her. It was almost like he was back in her bed. He could just close his eyes, and pretend that it was still morning. She was there, just against him, not a care in the world, just happy to be together. Just pretend.

Chapter 30: Normal Again (1)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As for Hell's Bells, I kept stuff that fits, and changed the rest to suit my (story's) needs. Reading the script of the episode might help if you haven't seen it or have forgotten about it, as I didn't write the evil Trio scenes here.

Sighing, Buffy crossed the last address off her list. It had seemed like a good idea, really, to go hunting for the three annoying nerds. It should have taken her mind off demons and vampires, and particularly off Spike. But it wasn’t working. First, the hunt was boring. The list Willow had made three weeks ago of newly rented places had yielded no result so far. It probably was too old by now. Second, Spike was lurking around. Her Slayer senses were telling her that a vampire had been following her almost since she left the house. Yet, every time she turned or tried to see him, she couldn’t find him. She wouldn’t call out for him. He was the one who had left in anger. He was the one who had called her a bitch. He would be the one to come to her, and not the other way around.

Trying to focus on her present mission, Buffy found the last house she had to check. She doubted this last address would turn out to be the one. It was a nice residential street, cute houses lined up on their little grass patches. She came close to the window, peering in. It was completely empty. Whoever had rented this had never moved in, or already moved out.

Decided to be thorough despite the blatant uselessness of it all, Buffy walked to the back of the house to check on an eventual van. Tilting her head, she stopped mid stride, and listened carefully. A hiss came from the shadows, followed by a tall and nasty looking demon. Exactly what she had wanted to avoid for the night. Slowly, they started circling around each other. Buffy noted dimly that she had never seen one of these red eyed, translucent skinned demons. Always something new on the Hellmouth…

Before she had finished her question, the demon was swinging at her. Ducking was simple, and so was pushing the thing back down the alley. She was just telling herself how easy her slaying duties had become since she had been turned, when the demon surprised her, grabbing her by the arm and plunging a long, needle-like stinger in her flesh. She shook him off, staggering. She had to close her eyes for a second to stop the world from spinning around her. When she opened them again, the demon was gone. And so was the alley.

Cursing, Spike threw the cigarette to the floor and ran to Buffy. She had been doing just fine, kicking the demon’s ugly behind in that graceful dance of hers. And suddenly, she had just stopped fighting and let the demon run away. That was a few seconds ago, and she was still in the same spot, looking completely out of this world.

In a few strides he was by her side, passing a hand in front of her unfocused eyes. The smell of blood caught his attention, and he found the puncture in her arm, from which oozed a small trickle. Mixed to the blood’s scent was something else, something he had never smelled before. He could only guess that it was what had put her in that catatonic state. For a second, it reminded him how she had completely blacked out a year before, when Glory had managed to take Dawn. It had been torture to see her completely unresponsive then. It was even worse now.

He tried to shake her, gently at first, then more forcefully, but with no reaction. Not knowing what else to do, he scooped her up in his arms and started walking away. The bloody Witch would surely blame it on him, but at least she might be able to help. After a few steps however, she jerked into his arms and came back to her senses. She looked up at him, a frown creasing her forehead.

He repressed a sigh at hearing her talk and held her tighter, but didn’t slow his step.

“You tell me, luv. You just stood there staring at nothing. That bleeding demon could have killed you.”

That is, he could have if he had known she was a vampire. Come to think of it, he had not even tried, just running away when she stopped fighting. Weird.

She shook her head as if to clear her ideas, and touched her arm where she was bleeding.

Watching the far away look on her face, he lit a cigarette and dragged on it heavily.

She blinked several times and looked at him. “It doesn’t matter. That was just an hallucination. I’m fine now.”

As if to prove her words, she started walking away. She stopped after a few steps, looking back to him, not saying anything. With a muted curse, he joined her and escorted her home. She didn’t suggest that he came in. He didn’t ask. They parted without a word, both still hurt by what had happened earlier that day. Both too proud to make the first step.

Reasonably sure that she was going to be fine, he visited a couple of cemeteries before returning to his crypt, slaying a few fledglings on his way. Pure habit. Less work for her. That’s when he realized he hadn’t asked her why she had been patrolling in residential neighborhoods instead of her usual hunting places.

Tara’s eyes fell on Willow as soon as she came out of the classroom. Saying a quick goodbye to a classmate, she walked toward the fidgeting redhead, smiling shyly.

They observed each other in silence for a few seconds, the tension becoming almost palpable. They had made small talk at the wedding, and even danced together. Just one dance, and with reasonable distance between them. Still, it had been nice.

“You wanna go for coffee?” Willow asked finally, a light of hope shining in her eyes.

“He was right,” the redhead continued. “I confronted Spike about using the Sire thing to control Buffy, and he totally denied it, but I know he was lying.”

Frowning, Tara tilted her head. For some weird reason, she kind of liked Spike. Not much, but a little. Knowing what she knew about him and Buffy, she had trouble believing he would do anything to hurt her in any way. Even turning her had been about loving her.

“He forced Buffy to… well, sleep with him. That’s actually a rape now that I think about it.”

“And he also made her invite him to live in the house. Of course after I accused him of controlling her he just ran away, so no Spike in Revello.”

Tara felt very uncomfortable. She had the feeling that he hadn’t forced Buffy to do anything, as he hadn’t forced her before.

Willow shook her head sadly. “She says she’s making her decisions herself. She doesn’t even realize he’s manipulating her.”

Tara watched over her cup the incredulous gaze Willow gave her. She wished she could tell her about Buffy’s little secret. But it wasn’t her place to reveal it.

“And? He’s been helping her for how long? And even when she wasn’t around he was still helping us. He’s changed. Maybe she has changed too.”

Willow’s mouth opened and closed several times without producing a sound. Tara smiled inwardly, knowing that she had opened a door for Buffy, should she choose to use it.

“If she does have feelings for him, it’s her choice and we have no word to say about it. Right?”

Finally stepping out of her torpor, Willow nodded. “Of course. No judging. But only if it’s really her choice. I still think he is using her.”

Having won half her battle, Tara changed the subject. She had no proof to offer Willow to convince her that Spike wouldn’t try to control the woman he loved. It was only a gut feeling. Yet she knew she was right. She only hoped Buffy would come clear to her friend.

It was the middle of the afternoon and Buffy was washing dishes. She had burned the pancakes earlier that morning, and the pan looked completely ruined. Still, it was her mother’s favorite pan for making pancakes, and she wouldn’t just give up on it. As she rinsed the sponge once more, she felt a vague of dizziness run through her, and closed her eyes instinctively. When she opened them again, the sponge was held by a nurse. She was in the same hospital room she had hallucinated about the night before. She stared at the nurse, not understanding what was going on.

At the same time as the woman touched her, she was back to her kitchen. Dawn was next to her, her hand on her shoulder.

Snapping out of her trance, Buffy blinked several times, glancing at Dawn’s concerned face before realizing that the sink was full of water and that her arms were in it up to the elbows. She turned off the tap, grabbing a paper towel to dry herself.

“Yes I am still mad. But Spike said you got hurt last night and that you were acting funny. Looks like you still are. You sure you feel good?”

Buffy’s first thought that it was nice that her sister cared for her like that. Then she realized what she had said, and frowned.

“Grow up, Buffy. He’s my friend. I won’t stop seeing him just because you two had a fight.”

A long time after she had climbed up the stairs, Buffy was still staring at the spot where she had disappeared from her view.

Chapter 30: Normal Again (2)

After resting for a couple of hours on her bed, Buffy came back downstairs to prepare dinner, which that night consisted in ordering pizza. Despite her efforts, she hadn’t been able to find sleep, afraid that if she closed her eyes she would be back in that hospital again. Just as she was coming in the kitchen, Willow was hanging up the phone.

The redhead gave her a bright smile, and Buffy could tell she was very close to laughing out loud.

Willow cracked up and giggled. “Full of giant rabbits, apparently! I guess we forgot to warn Anya about that!”

Buffy laughed a little too, imagining the ex vengeance-demon coming face to face with a cute but giant sized disneyish rabbit. Poor Anya. Poor Xander too, if he had to deal with her hysterics.

“Hey,” she said after a minute. “How come you're here? I thought you were gonna go see Tara.”

Finding the pizzeria’s number, Buffy phoned in her order. When she turned back to Willow, her friend was still looking at her, an undecided look on her face.

“Well… There’s something I wanted to ask you. Are you really, really sure Spike isn’t messing with your mind?”

Tension and tiredness returned to Buffy’s body all at once. She didn’t want to think about Spike. Not at all. Thinking of Spike made the demon stir and plead for blood. It made other parts of her yell for his touch. It reminded her she hadn’t fed since the night before, but just thinking about the blood bags in the fridge made her nauseous.

The redhead nodded, thoughtful. “I’m still not sure I trust him. But I trust your judgment. And if you want to… have him around, it’s none of my business. As long as he’s not doing his mojo on you.”

Buffy considered her friend with surprise. The day before, she had been ready to stake Spike on sight, and now this? She wondered what had brought the change.

“Talking with Tara reminded me of a few things,” Willow answered to the question. “How he’s been helping and stuff. And that it’s not my place to judge your choices. Like you never judged mine.”

With a shy smile, Willow briefly hugged Buffy. A thought was bothering the blonde though.

Buffy shook her head, repressing a sigh. Of course she could trust Tara with her little secret.

“Nothing. I’m glad you don’t think I’m being manipulated any more. As for Spike… I’ve been too dependent on him since he turned me, I guess.”

“It’s ok, Buffy. It’s such a big change and all, it’s normal you needed someone to guide you in the beginning.”

Buffy smiled sadly. Willow did not understand. She couldn’t understand. It wasn’t guidance she needed. It was him. His touch to make her feel good. His smile to warm her. His blood to quiet the demon. He knew all that and he just let her do as she pleased. Just like he had let her use him before.

Before… Before was easy. No, not really easy, but a bit easier. He was a vampire, she was the Slayer. It was just wrong to care about him, to have any feeling at all for him, even to sleep with him. He was still a vampire, she was still the Slayer. But now she was like him. She knew the bloodlust and the hunger. She had become the creature of the night he had sometimes claimed she was. Above all, she was his Childe. And for all her efforts, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted, needed him only because he was her Sire or for more reasons than that.

Irritated, Spike set down the paper bag he was carrying on a bench and lit a cigarette. He had had a bad feeling ever since he left his crypt at sundown to go to the hospital. That was usually his time to check on Buffy and make sure her patrol went well, but he was completely out of blood bags and his supplier had asked him not to come after 9 pm. How he was going to find her now, he didn’t know, especially if she was patrolling residential neighborhoods like the previous night.

Of course, if she just walked to him as she was doing right now, he wouldn’t need to go look for her.

Tilting his head, he took a long drag on his fag. She did look sick, paler than usual if it was possible.

“You don’t look too well to me. Why don’t you go home? I’ll do your patrol for tonight.”

There. He was doing it again. Offering her help she hadn’t even asked for. Opening himself up for one more painful rejection. Even more pathetic than the poof.

Just as the words passed her lips, she staggered as if drunk. Spike reached out to hold her and prevent her from falling, cursing at the glazed look her eyes had just taken. It was just like the night before. And she claimed she could patrol…

Buffy needed to blink several times to clear her vision. She didn’t feel very steady, and was grateful for Spike’s support. Except… it wasn’t Spike. She stared at the unknown man in front of her. Doctor, her foggy brain told her. He was looking at her with concern in his eyes.

At his words, she stiffened. Looking around her, she recognized the room as the same one she had been in her previous flashes. Hospital. No, not hospital. Mental institute. Her breathing accelerated and she started panicking. Her panic grew even worse when she realized she actually needed to breathe.

The doctor placed a hand on her shoulder, startling her. At her reaction, he backed away slowly, obviously trying not to scare her more than she already was.

“No, Buffy None of that is real. None of it. You're in a mental institution. You're ill. You've been with us six years now, do you remember?”

Her whole being screamed that this was wrong. Unconsciously, she started backing away slowly until her back was against the wall. She heard the door being opened, but couldn’t make herself look away from the man who was still talking to her as if to a frightened child. Which was exactly what she was.

He moved slightly to the side, revealing to Buffy’s eyes the most incredible sight. Her mom and dad. Together. Her mother, alive and smiling, if hesitantly. They started approaching, and Buffy was torn between the desire to rush into her arms and the instinct to back away as far as she could in the corner. The latter eventually prevailed.

Buffy looked all around the room, though she couldn’t have said what she was searching. Eventually, her eyes fell on her mother again. She was crying. Tears of joy.

She knew it wasn’t possible, knew her mother was dead, knew it just was not real. And yet if only it could be…

The voice of the doctor encouraging Joyce to keep talking brought her out of her thoughts. She barely heard her father talk. Her father was in LA. Or somewhere in Europe on a business trip. Not here. Not with her mother. Her mother was dead. And still she was pleading with her.

She felt an arm wrap around her as she staggered. She blinked, clearing her vision, and discovered Spike’s concerned face. She looked around, finding herself back in the cemetery. She instinctively brought a hand to her chest. Her heart had stopped again.

He called her Buffy. He never did that unless he was being dead serious. Feeling her knees start to buckle, she grabbed the arm that was holding her.

“Yeah, you’re just ready to take a dozen vamps by yourself, aren’t you luv? Let’s get you home.”

She was about to protest, just for the form, but in truth if he took away his arm she would just fall to the ground. She still felt a bit dizzy. The memory of her mom, right there in front of her, alive and worried, was all she could think of.

Chapter 32: Normal Again (3)

Spike came out of the kitchen carrying a glass of warm blood. Seated between Red and the Nibblet on the sofa, Buffy was slowly telling about her hallucinations. He handed the glass to her and she accepted it with a nod, though she just held it, not even taking a sip. Leaning against the wall, he listened to her words as intently as he was observing her. Even now her gaze seemed to shift out of focus sometimes.

“Since when?” the Witch asked, throwing a quick look in Spike’s direction. There was no doubt that she thought it was his fault.

“Night before last. I was checking houses on the list you put together, looking for Warren and his pals. Then bam. Some kind of gross, waxy demon thing poked me.”

Dawn and Willow looked at him questioningly, but Buffy was oblivious. Rubbing her arm absently, she kept telling her story.

Her voice faltered for a second, then she said with more conviction : “No. Not like. I was in an institution. I didn't know what it was at first. But then it happened a couple more times. There were doctors, nurses, other patients...”

Her eyes were becoming even more unfocused, and Spike thought for a second that she was slipping into her hallucination again. But she kept narrating.

“They told me I was sick. Crazy, I guess. And that Sunnydale. And... all of this. None of it was real. Just part of some delusion in my head.”

Spike shook his head slightly, repressing a sad grin. It certainly wouldn’t be hard to dismiss “all of this” as unreal. Vampires, demons, witches, vengeance demons, mystic energy, Slayer…

“And dad too. They were together. Like they used to be. Before Sunnydale...”

Silence. Spike observed the two sisters. Both had the same look of longing. He had never met their dad, but he had pieced together enough information from Dawn to know he didn’t deserve the title of father. Joyce, on the contrary, had been a fine lady. He liked her. He could guess how much her daughters missed her, how much seeing her must have upset Buffy.

Red’s fake enthusiasm pulled Dawn out of her thoughts. She raised her hand like Willow.

“Ok, Dawnie, you can help me research. We'll hop online, check out all the...”

“Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik,” he repeated slowly. “I’ll go out and see if I can find that nasty bugger. Might tell me what he did to the Slayer and how…”

His eyes settled on Buffy and he swore. By the glazed look in her eyes, she was not with them any more.

Willow observed as Spike chained the still passed out demon. How he had managed to find the thing, catch it and bring it back to Buffy’s home by himself, she had no idea. She was glad he had, though, having found that the antidote to Buffy’s condition was produced by the same stinger that had poisoned her in the first place.

The demon was now secured. Spike turned to her, an incredulous look on his face.

“Are you daft? I’m in love with the girl. ‘Thought I made that clear to the lot of you many times.”

For a couple of seconds, his eyes flashed yellow, and she couldn’t help taking a step back.

“If I was playing games with her mind, know what I would ask her next? To kill you for me. I would, if I wasn’t sure that would destroy her. Just because you couldn’t stop yourself from using your powers doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Willow felt her cheeks burn as if he had slapped her, though she couldn’t have told if she was blushing from anger or shame.

“Do whatever you need with that bugger,” he growled, “and hurry to make your bloody antidote. The Slayer is waiting.”

She nodded and approached both demons. Strangely, even after his threats, she was more afraid of the unconscious one than of Spike. She began to realize that, maybe, Angel had been wrong.

Leaving the two Witches in the kitchen, Spike climbed the steps to Buffy’s room. Of course, since Tara and Willow had brewed their antidote without magic, ‘Witches’ was not really accurate any more. It had taken them all night, and he had doubted a couple of times when their concoctions actually exploded, but now they were almost done. The door was open, and Dawn was next to the bed, staring at a dazed Buffy.

He saw Dawn jerk back just as his own heart felt like stabbed. He came closer to the kid, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“She doesn’t mean it, Bit,” he said soothingly. “She’s hallucinating.”

As he spoke, Buffy seemed to snap out of her trance. Blinking, she watched both Dawn and him, but didn’t say a word.

For a minute, as her inexpressive voice penetrated his heart, he was tempted to do just that. Go away. Leave her and her bloody morals. Let her deal with her problems as she could. Let her rot in hell.

He realized he was gripping Dawn’s shoulder hard enough to hurt her, and forced his fingers to let go. It was hard to bring the smirk forward, but he managed to. Years of practice helped.

“As soon as you have drunk Red’s potion and get lucid again, you and I will talk, pet. And it will be time to decide once and for all if you want me around or not.”

Talking of the devil… Willow entered, a steaming mug in her hands. She was beaming.

“Here’s your yummy antidote, Buffy!” she said cheerfully. “Drink it all down and everything should go back to normal.”

She handed the mug to Buffy, who cupped it in her hands, staring at the dark blue liquid.

As in slow motion, Spike saw the mug fall from her hand and roll down the side of the bed, shattering on the floor, staining everything on its way in blue. A quick look at her eyes was unneeded to tell him Buffy had phased out again. She seemed to hallucinate more and more.

“Red,” he growled, “get more of your potion. We’ll make her drink by force.”

Soon, they were gone, and he was left alone with the unconscious woman who seemed to have so much fun shredding his heart. Thoughtfully, he looked at the liquid spilt on the bed and floor. How long until Red made enough potion again? How long would Buffy stay in her illusion? Too long, maybe. Maybe this time she wouldn’t be able to come back. Maybe she would let herself be convinced that the hallucination was the real world.

He couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t lose her like that. He had to reach her and… And what? It wasn’t like she ever listened to what he told her. Still, he had to try. He would not stop fighting for her.

Unable to look at the faraway look on her face any longer, his eyes drifted on her, settling on her arm. The mark where the demon had stung her should have healed by now, yet it was still slightly red and swollen.

The demon face came forward even before he was conscious of his decision. Sitting on the bed by her side, he leaned over to brush his lips on hers.

His fangs sank precisely on each side of the red mark on her arm. He pulled on her blood slowly, cringing at the bitter taste mixed to her usual sweetness. He felt a vague of dizziness hit him and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was still sitting next to Buffy. She was now staring at him, bound by her wrists to the bed. She looked weak, just like when she was ill, just like when he had turned her. But, unlike then, she looked scared.

His hand, of its own will, reached to her face and brushed against her cheek. She was warm. Human. And so was he, he realized with surprise.

“This is an hallucination, pet. You were poisoned. I drank your blood so I am here with you, but we can’t stay. We don’t belong here.”

She struggled against her restraints and he freed her, curious to what she would do. Instantly, she was out of the bed, retreating to a corner of the room, sinking to the floor. Unwilling to scare her even more, he didn’t move.

“Slayer, you have killed more vampires and demons than anyone before you. Hell, you even took a goddess. You are stronger than this!”

Her eyes were on him, but he could tell she hadn’t paid attention to what he had said. She was playing with a strand of her hair, mumbling indistinctly.

He passed a hand in his hair, pulling a longish strand so that he could see it. Soft curls, light brown. He had a short laugh when he noticed the nameplate on his chest.

“This is not real,” he pleaded. “William is not real. But Spike is. Spike loves you more than his unlife.”

He stepped to her, slowly so he wouldn’t frighten her, and knelt in front of her trembling body.

“I love you human. I love you vampire. I love you insane. If you stay here, so will I. Even if it’s nothing but a dream. I’d rather be dreaming your dream, Buffy, than living one more day without you.”

At last, he seemed to have broken through her barriers. Her hand lifted to his face, and, light as a feather, traced his features.

That was not what he wanted. That was not what he had planed when he drank her poisoned blood. Yet the answer came easily.

She leaned forward until her cheek rested against his shoulder. Tentatively, he encircled her with both arms, sighing when she relaxed against him.

He chuckled. “There’s not much for me to give up, luv. The chip, the hunger, a life with no friends.”

“I love her because she’s so much like you. But she’s not you. She’ll never be you. I’ll miss her though.”

Slowly, her head came up next to his, and he looked into the hazel depths, wondering what she was thinking. Her mouth descended on his, kissing chastely at first, gently. Then her tongue rubbed against his bottom lip, before slipping past his opening lips. He let her lead the pace of the kiss, touching lightly her tongue with his. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, and dimly he realized she was the first woman he had ever kissed as a human. The thought sent fire running through his veins, and he pulled her closer to him until she was straddling his lap. From tender and slow, the kiss became passionate and hungry, mouths rediscovering each other for the first time all over again.

Buffy pulled away from him, jumping to her feet, looking startled. He rose too, turning to the woman who had just interrupted one of the sweetest moments he had ever lived. He smirked at the impression of déjà vu, almost expecting the lady to swing an axe at him.

“I’m sorry, mom. I’ll miss you. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. He loves me. And I love him.”

The words hit him like a mace. He felt his breath accelerate and blinked away tears. When he could see again, Joyce had disappeared, and so had the hospital. His eyes searched and found Buffy’s. They were looking straight at him.

“I love you,” she repeated. “I loved you when I was human. I love you even more today.”

Unable to force a word out of his tight throat, he rested his head on her chest, his arms sneaking around her. She threaded her fingers in his hair, caressing softly. Time passed. When the Witches and the Nibblet came back, they found them in the same position, quietly enjoying their newfound peace. He explained what had happened, an edited version of it anyway, and drank some antidote too. Then he listened, almost not believing his own ears, as Buffy told her friends and sister that she had started falling in love with him long before he turned her.

Chapter 33: Love

Observing the blonde sleeping next to her, Buffy was smiling. Both exhausted by their out of this world experience, they had fallen asleep soon after drinking Willow’s antidote, not even bothering to get under the covers. She had just awoken, refreshed and happy.

Her friends knew. Well, not all of them yet, so far only Willow and Tara did. And Tara had suspected for a while, ever since Buffy had confessed to her that she was sleeping with Spike. So mostly, Willow had been the only one taken by surprise. Still, she had reacted better than Buffy would have thought. She hadn’t even mentioned the Sire/Childe thing. The revelation that the Slayer had been shagging the vampire almost since her return and slowly been falling for him even before that, the big revelation Buffy had dreaded so much, had visibly shaken her. But she had caught up quickly, despite her sputtering and wide eyes, and managed to mumble good wishes of some kind. Tara had only smiled, probably both at what Buffy had said and at the redhead’s reaction.

Her sister knew. She more than knew, she approved. Dawn was absolutely delighted by the news. Her response had been to complain about the time it had taken Buffy to admit her own feelings. But, despite her crossed arms and scolding look, she had been smiling. Beaming, actually.

Spike knew. Of course, he had known for a while, claiming every so often that she was just in denial. Still, Buffy had realized something when the words passed her lips. Even if he always said he knew, he had doubted. She couldn’t blame him, really. After all the things she had made him go through, he certainly had reasons to doubt. And yet he had stayed around. He had kept hoping. She would always remember his look when she finally said it. It was exactly the same expression that had illuminated his face a few months back, when she had guided him inside her for the first time. Wonder, gratitude, bliss, love, all mixed into one.

And now, she knew. She had known since the first kiss, in the alley behind the Bronze. But at the same time, she had just discovered it. She loved him. So long, she had refused to realize it was indeed love and not something else. Being in love with a vampire… Been there, done that. Either he turned all evil on you and started killing and torturing your friends, or he ran away thinking you deserved more than what he could offer. Except… except Spike wasn’t Angel. Everyone, himself included, mentioned occasionally that he was still evil, just controlled by the chip. And what had been his ‘doctor’ episode if not an attempt at being the Big Bad again. Yet, Buffy was completely certain that, should the chip ever stop working, he wouldn’t go back to hunting. He wouldn’t, because that would be the fastest way to lose her. He had proven that he was willing to give up everything, give up who he was, just for her. He had been ready to, without a second’s hesitation. It had also confirmed what she had realized a few days earlier. He wouldn’t run away. Whatever she did, whatever she said, he was in her life for good. He had followed her in her hallucination, had been ready to stay there with her if it was the only way. Seeing him human in front of her had been a shock. Vampire or human, Spike or William, he was the same man. No difference, no split personality, no monster, just a man who had learnt to coexist with his demon. All this time, she had refused her feelings because of what he was, refused to see he was just as human as her. He didn’t need a soul to be, he just needed to love her.

A lazy finger traced her lips as his eyes opened slowly, staring straight into hers.

She grinned at his request. Bringing her mouth just next to his, she let the words escape, soft and caressing. She kissed him, slow, tender kisses, trailing from his mouth down to his neck. He tilted his head in invitation, but she only kissed the healed marks she had left there before, repeating again the magic words. One after the other, the buttons of his shirt came undone. She kissed his marble skin as she exposed it, whispering against him. Soon, a soft purr was rising from his chest. His eyes were half closed, but she could tell he was still watching her.

She eased his arms out of the shirt. Her hands wandered on him, caressing, teasing, scratching lightly with a nail, before coming down to his jeans. More buttons to undo. He lifted his hips off the bed, allowing her to pull the denim down to his knees. She placed tiny kisses along his hard length, still repeating the same words. She flicked her tongue on the now moist tip of his shaft and he moaned.

The desire in his voice sent a shiver down to her toes. She wiggled out of her pants and panties, before sending her t-shirt and bra fly over the room. She straddled his thighs, rubbing her wetness against him, teasing him as well as herself. His hands settled on her hips, gently pulling her higher, until she was directly above his erection. Ever so slowly she lowered herself on him, repeating her mantra in a whisper as he filled her, stretched her, until she couldn’t tell any longer where her body stopped and where his started.

Holding on to her waist, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. Her legs and arms slid easily around him, encircling him, holding him tight against her. Unhurriedly, she started rocking against him, barely moving, just enough to create a little friction. He nibbled along her jaw, working his way toward her lips. When at last he reached them, his tongue sneaked inside her mouth and caressed all over, exploring as if for the first time. He was now thrusting in time with her, though their position didn’t allow for much room. Neither of them made an attempt to change it, though. The embrace made up with tender intimacy what it lacked in movement. Nimble fingers sneaked between their joined bodies, finding her clit, tweaking it once, then twice. The third time, she moaned into his mouth. He pulled away, grinning.

When she complied, he pulled on her throbbing clit. She repeated the words, and he repeated his actions, over and over, until the pressure building inside her became too great. One last time, she said it, finishing in a cry as her orgasm swept through her, tightening all at once her arms, legs and walls around him. She felt him quake in her embrace, in her, a quiet moan escaping his lips. He rested his forehead against hers, his baby blue eyes looking deep into her soul.

Chapter 34: Entropy (1)

Sitting on top of the pillar that marked the cemetery’s gate, Spike grabbed the running vampire by an arm. He wanted to watch his Slayer fight one on one. Not that it would last long, the vamp she was currently tackling didn’t stand a chance against her. Just the same, he loved to watch her dance. Too soon, the first vamp was dust, and she eyed the one struggling against his grip.

“Come on, Slayer,” he said with a smirk, “admit it, you want to stake him yourself. Even if he’s not much of a challenge, you want to do it. Makes you all hot and bothered, doesn’t it?”

Her grin softened the words. The still struggling vamp was forgotten as they teased each other back and forth. Bickering was another of the many things he loved to do with her. It had been fun before, when his teasing led mostly to insults and glares. But now it was even better.

Three days already that he was in Heaven. He kept expecting to wake up and find that it had all been a dream. And yet, every day, he woke by her side. He felt like he had found his place in the world.

“Spike, it’s not funny anymore,” she said with a pout, starting to walk away. “Dawn is waiting for us to go see that movie and with your games we’ll end up late.”

He watched her for a couple of seconds, then dropped the vampire without warning. The idiot had seen his companion get staked in five seconds flat, he should have known better than to run after the Slayer. And yet he did, finding himself on the pointy end of a stake before he even knew it. Buffy raised an eyebrow at Spike, brushing ashes off her coat absently.

He smirked as he jumped off the pillar and strode toward her, placing a wet and noisy kiss on her forehead.

Walking home unhurriedly, Spike by her side and Dawn a little ahead of them, Buffy couldn’t help smiling. Funny how the small things were getting to her. Just holding his hand was nice. Seeing Dawn happy was nice. Going to a lame movie with the two persons she loved most was nice. Knowing just how much she loved them was nice. Life was nice. Better than nice. So what if she was undead?

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so carefree. No Dawn problem. No money problem. No heart problem. No Big Bad to battle, except for these three annoying geeks, but they didn’t quite qualify for the job. She was just free to enjoy her life as she wished, and it felt like it was the first time in years.

“Dawnie,” Buffy replied kindly, “cemeteries by night are not exactly a good idea. You can come tomorrow.”

“But during the day we can’t go together,” the teen insisted. “Please? It’s not like anyone is going to attack me with you two here.”

Dawn had quickly perfected her technique in the last couple of days. She knew that making puppy eyes at Spike would win him to her cause, and together they could convince Buffy of just about anything. The best example of that had been their movie choice. Right now, she was doing it again. And of course it was working.

“Listen to the guy who just sits and watch while I do all the slaying. You know I could beat you in twenty seconds, right, Big Bad?”

“Ok,” Buffy gave in. “Let’s go. But not too long, it’s getting late.”

Cemeteries at night felt a lot different, Buffy reflected, when you were visiting your lost ones rather than checking on newly risen vampires. The silence was almost oppressive, the moonlight cast long shadows everywhere, and she tightened unconsciously her grip on Spike’s hand. He glanced at her sideways, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it soothingly.

“I wish we had flowers,” Dawn murmured, echoing a thought that had just run through Buffy’s mind.

But when they reached the tomb of their mother, they noticed the two red roses simply laid at the stone’s foot.

The night before, when he had moved his few belongings from the crypt to Revello, he had brought back a bouquet of roses, exactly like the ones on the ground. He shrugged, but his fake casualness fooled neither sister.

“I had to give my thanks,” he said almost inaudibly. “The lady brought you two into this world.”

Before he knew it, both teary girls were hugging the vampire. Dawn broke away first, returning her attention to Joyce’s tomb, but Buffy remained against him. The memory of seeing her mother was still fresh in her mind, and even if she knew it had only been an hallucination, it was still painful.

“Mom,” Dawn’s quiet voice rose into the night, “I know you liked Spike so you must be happy he’s part of the family now. I wish you were here with us. I miss you.”

Without letting go of Spike’s hand, Buffy came closer to her sister, encircling her shoulders with her free arm. For a few minutes, they stayed side by side, quietly staring at the cold stone and its engraved letters. Spike was the one to break the silence.

They made their way out of the cemetery and toward Revello drive, Buffy listening to the two kids argue over the best kind of marshmallow to put in hot chocolate. Spike was more than a century old, Dawn was made of an energy older than mankind, yet the Slayer felt like she was the oldest of the three. She had seen and done so much in her mere 21 years of life. She might have felt burnt out. She certainly had felt that way not that long ago. But when he had turned her, Spike had opened a door to a new world of possibilities. He noticed that she was looking at him as they walked, and gave her the sweetest of his smiles. Not a grin, not a smirk, just pure love drawn on his lips.

Spike glanced at Dawn as she walked in the kitchen, giving her a wink and a smile as a good morning greeting. Then he returned to his observation of the Slayer. He could understand her desire to keep a human schedule, and had no trouble adjusting to it as well. He could also understand her need to take care of Dawn, since he felt the same way. But why she was preparing, all at the same time, eggs, pancakes, toasts, as well as placing on the table three different kind of cereals, he had no idea. Apparently, Dawn was as puzzled as he was.

“Uh, gosh. Did we open a chain? Are we the International House of something?”

As she said that, she looked questioningly at Spike. He shook his head slowly, indicating that he didn’t know either what was going through Buffy’s mind.

“It’s just breakfast,” Buffy answered, oblivious. “What kind of syrup do you want on your pancakes?”

Dawn settled at the table and started eating what Buffy was placing in front of her. The microwave beeped and the Slayer grabbed the two mugs inside it, giving one to Spike before settling on his lap. He could have sworn she was deliberately grinding against him, teasing him as he could do nothing while the Nibblet was in the room. Repressing a smile, he promised himself to make her pay for that later.

“So what are we doing tonight?” she asked cheerfully. “Any idea Dawnie?”

“Well, actually, since you ask, I was thinking… instead of you hanging out with me, maybe... maybe I could hang out with you two.”

Spike understood immediately where the kid was headed, and by the look she gave him she was counting on his help. Buffy however wasn’t getting it. He couldn’t see her face, with her sitting on his lap, but he knew her body language well enough to know what that slight tilt of her head meant. He placed his lips on the exposed flesh of her neck, making her shiver, before giving her a clue.

Dawn’s nod confirmed he had been right. Buffy was quiet, too quiet, too tense. He could feel her ready to get up. He sneaked one arm around her waist, holding her to him.

She twisted on his lap until she was sideways, where she could look both at him and Dawn.

“Dawn. I'm trying so hard to keep you away from that stuff. I don't want you to be around dangerous things that can kill you.”

Coming from the mouth of a vampire, who was currently sitting on another vampire’s knees, the comment sounded somewhat ironical.

“This is the Hellmouth, luv,” Spike said matter-of-factly. “Whatever you want, Nibblet is going to bump into dangerous things sooner or later. At least if she comes on patrol every now and then she can learn to fight them.”

For a few seconds, Buffy seemed to be contemplating his words. When he felt her body relax slightly in his embrace, he knew she was agreeing.

Dawn’s face glowed with delight. She was about to say something when the doorbell rang. She jumped from her seat happily to get it. As she left the kitchen, Buffy looked at Spike, seriousness in her eyes and voice.

“Luv, when she sees how fast you dust vamps, she’s going to get bored really quick and she’ll forget all about patrolling.”

He laughed a little more at her surprised look and kissed her soundly. The kiss grew hot and fiery pretty quick, as his hands wandered under her shirt and her fingers tangled in his hair. Dawn’s insistent coughing interrupted them. Their lips separated and they looked up to her at the same time, finding her surrounded by Anya and her week old husband.

Chapter 35: Entropy (2)

Buffy first instinct was to jump from Spike’s lap, and she mentally scolded herself for that. No more secrets, no more lies. It was time to let these two know. Of course, by now, they probably had a pretty good picture of what was going on. Anya was the first to break the strained silence.

With a huge smile on her face, she deposited on the table three enormous picture albums. She picked one and flipped it open.

“You can look too, Dawnie,” she said happily. “There’s nothing x-rated in these.”

Buffy stifled a giggle at both her sister rolling her eyes and Xander strangling himself. She beckoned him to the table, noticing how happy he looked. Apparently the wedding glow still hadn’t faded. All five of them were now around the table, watching pictures with various degrees of interest as Anya commented them. The first album was the wedding one, and she was explaining each picture as if they had not all been there. Buffy attention stopped on a particular shot, and she tapped it lightly with a finger.

That was the last of the formal ones, when she had asked from the happy couple a shot with all the Scoobies, Spike included. She felt Spike’s lips brush the back of her neck and she shivered. With a flick of the wrist, Anya had freed the picture from its plastic pocket and was giving it to Buffy.

For a second, Buffy started to wonder what was going on with him. He was sitting within arm reach of Spike, and he hadn’t said one bad word to him. He hadn’t even shot him one single nasty glance. She certainly had underestimated marital bliss. Or maybe, she reflected after a while, he was just happy that Anya had found someone else to torture. For two long hours, she described what seemed like thousands of pictures. After the wedding came the reception, then the honeymoon in Disneyland. Dawn looked like she was ready to fall asleep on the table, Xander was smiling apologetically, Spike was drawing sinuous little patterns on her sides, and Anya was oblivious to the fact that she was boring them to death.

Eventually, the last page of the last album was turned, and both Summers girls gave a deep sigh. Anya mistook it for regret.

“Yes, I know,” she said with a nod, “there’s never enough. But I have another roll that we need to have developed. I’ll come and show that one to you tomorrow!”

Buffy managed to make a noise that Anya interpreted as eagerness, and Dawn slipped away, mumbling something about having a life to live. The blissful Mrs. Harris then decided that Buffy had to find a frame for the picture right away, and dragged her out of the kitchen to do so, leaving the two men together. The Slayer wondered how long it would take Xander to get down from his little cloud and try to stake Spike, and whether she’d be back quick enough to stop him.

With all three girls gone, Xander finally looked at Spike, who was watching him, that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

Xander wasn’t talking only about Buffy, and Spike seemed to understand that. His grin was now oozing self-satisfaction, and Xander had the sudden urge to smack him. But that wouldn’t do.

Even after having seen the two of them lip locked earlier, it still was weird. Buffy and Spike. That brought back old nightmares from after Willow’s engagement wish. Yet, a lot of things had changed since that time. One of them being Spike.

Xander nodded. He had been having a few doubts for a while now, he might as well know for sure.

“Let me see,” Spike said slowly, as if trying to remember while Xander could tell he was pretending. “It became serious a bit after Red’s spell, when we all forgot who we were.”

Xander’s only reaction was to nod again, which seemed to disappoint the vampire. He had certainly expected him to faint in shock. And Xander himself was a bit surprised not to be really upset. A couple of weeks back, he would have been, certainly. He might even have tried to kill Spike. But within these two weeks, Spike had done two things. He had turned Buffy, and prevented him from making the biggest mistake of his life.

Buffy being turned had been a hard thing to accept at first. Then Xander had realized something. The vampire had just done what they had, only with his own means. The summer before, the Scoobies had used magic to bring Buffy back because living without her was too hard. Spike didn’t have magic. He just had what he was.

And then, the wedding. Xander still couldn’t understand why Spike had stopped him when he was about to run away. He wouldn’t have believed that the vampire, of all people, would care enough to try. And succeed. He would never have thought that he could actually understand love. Now he knew. He understood more than well.

A look passed between them. As unlikely as it would have seemed not that long ago, Xander had the feeling that they might become friends. He shook his head at the thought, laughing softly to himself. Xander Harris friend with a vampire. Two, actually, counting Buffy.

As realization dawned on Xander, his mouth opened and his eyes widened. Spike grinned, a truly evil, Big Bad grin, and Xander amended his previous thought. They might be friends someday, but it would take a long time. A very, very long time.

After arguing for a while, Buffy relented and let Anya remove a picture of her holding a baby Dawn from the prettiest frame in the house and replace it with the wedding picture. She’d get a new frame for the old picture later.

Surprisingly, Xander hadn’t staked Spike. Even more surprisingly, it seemed that Spike wasn’t making his best to annoy him, as he usually did. And so, when Willow entered the house through the front door, she found two couples chatting amicably in the living room. She paused for a minute, the barest frown crossing her face. It probably looked weird to her too, Buffy thought with a quiet laugh. The redhead barely had the time to give a hug to Xander when Anya grabbed her and made her sit between them on the sofa, depositing the first picture book on her lap. Apparently, she was going to go through the whole lot again. Buffy heard Spike’s very quiet growl, and she certainly felt the same way. This was going to be a long, long afternoon.

Two pizzas, six beers, five cokes and three blood bags later, the picture marathon had ended and Willow had narrated to the returning newlyweds how Buffy had been drugged by a what’s his name demon. That had led to the announcement that Spike was now living with her. There was a very awkward pause when Anya idly commented that she was a pro at organizing weddings now, should anyone need her services. Buffy sneaked a glance at Spike next to her, finding him seemingly puzzled. They had not talked about wedding, engagement or anything of the kind. Strangely, Buffy couldn’t have told if she wished he would ask or not. It was Willow who broke the silence after that, announcing that she was moving out of Revello Drive. Before Buffy could say anything, Spike was stating quietly:

He didn’t elaborate about why he would hold a grudge against her. No one had mentioned the Sire thing to the Harris couple, which was just fine in Buffy’s mind. They didn’t need to know about that.

“Oh, it’s not that,” Willow said, blushing. “Tara kinda asked me to move in with her.”

Her voice trailed as both Buffy and Spike sat up straight, glancing at each other with the same frown before looking back at Willow. This sounded bad, very bad. Whatever her good intentions had been, Buffy doubted that Angel had enjoyed Willow’s message.

Willow seemed a little worried now, probably understanding she should have told them before calling the older vampire.

“I just said he had nothing to worry about concerning Spike and you. That was all.”

Xander and Anya were looking at the three of them, obviously not understanding what the problem was.

Willow looked apologetic, and probably if she hadn’t already decided to move out she would be doing that right now. Buffy tried to force a smile on her face, despite the vague feeling that they would be hearing from Angel pretty soon. And it wouldn’t be pretty when he found out about her and Spike. He had almost killed the blonde when he learned that Buffy was his Childe, there was no telling what he would do when discovering that they now were a couple. She took Spike’s hand, hoping he wouldn’t say anything to Willow to make her feel even worse. She had tried to do well.

They were saved from another of these uncomfortable silences by a knock on the door. Tara had come to help Willow pack up. Of course, she couldn’t do that until she had been shown every single picture from Anya’s albums. Buffy settled down against Spike, ready to endure the commentary for the third time. But he had other ideas.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what in hell he was talking about.

“You need to train,” he insisted. “’Been slipping and all, letting that demon get to you.”

She was about to protest that no, she was not slipping, when she understood his game. Get away from Anya. Get away before hearing a third time about the Horror of the Giant Bunnies.

Oh, he had more than training in mind, she was sure of it now. And she didn’t mind at all to tell the truth. As she rose to her feet, Xander reminded them of a little problem.

Buffy glanced at her watch, annoyed to find that it was only a little after 5. Spike however seemed untouched.

Ten minutes later, they were entering the training room at the Magic Box through the back door. Buffy dropped her protecting blanket on the floor, watching Spike curiously as he shed his duster before standing in front of her in a fighting stance.

She rolled her eyes at his cocky voice. Hadn’t he watched her fight often enough to know he wasn’t going to last one minute?

Before she could finish her sentence, he had kicked her legs from under her, and she was sitting on the floor, staring up at him. Amusement and annoyance were fighting in her mind. He was going to pay for that.

“You’re slipping, Slayer,” he mocked. “Attack can come from anywhere. Didn’t your Watcher teach you that?”

She got to her feet, slowly, giving him a twisted grin. After all, maybe he did deserve to get hurt. Just a little. Teach him a lesson. Her right foot shot up, flying toward his middle.

Chapter 36: Entropy (3)

Easily, Spike caught her foot before it made contact. He simply held it, smirking at her as she tried to keep her balance.

He let go of her and waited for her next attack. He had been watching her fight a lot since he had turned her, and he had already been observing before that. She was slowly becoming careless, too confident in her own abilities. Yes, she was strong, even more so now. But strength wasn’t all for a Slayer. He knew that intimately, after all he had bested two of them, and yet he hadn’t been stronger than them. Just lucky. Lucky to be able to use their own mistakes against them. He wouldn’t let that happen to Buffy. She wouldn’t get hurt because she thought she was invincible. To make sure of that, he would simply show her that she was not.

She came closer to him, her fists flying in a quick succession. He managed to avoid most of them, but the last one caught him squarely in the jaw. His head snapped back but he held his ground, and struck back without thinking. His left foot caught her in the stomach, sending her to the ground. Her eyes flashed golden as she looked up, jumped back to her feet and plunged at him. As he ducked, he couldn’t help grinning. She was truly into the fight now, giving all she had, like he was. No more games, no more playing with adversaries that were so unworthy of her. She was the Slayer with added Vampire strength. But he was the Vampire who had drunk the blood of three Slayers, his last taste only a few hours before. She was stronger than she had ever been, and so was he. He remembered very well the last time they had fought like that. It had ended with the total destruction of a building. Hopefully, they wouldn’t destroy the Magic Box. Hopefully, they would end up shagging again.

As much as he loved to watch her, dancing with her was even better. He had observed her fight so often, he could almost guess what moves she would try next, and managed to avoid most of them. Her own instinct was just as good, Slayer senses and all, and few of his blows landed. Every now and then, he sent a biting comment at her, trying to make her lose her concentration, but to no avail. She wasn’t talking back, which surprised him. She was always delivering puns to her victims when she was patrolling. Either he had really pissed her off and she was too mad for quips, or she was concentrating entirely on her fight. He was betting on the latter.

On and on, they danced. Foot and hands, no weapons. After a while, they were both unnecessarily panting, and still they continued to strike, blows succeeding to blows too fast for a human eye to follow.

Buffy draw first blood, with a nasty punch that split Spike’s top lip. As he caught the blood with his tongue, his demon came forward, and he looked intently at Buffy through gold eyes. She dropped her guard, taking a step toward him with her defenses down. He didn’t hesitate a second before striking back, his punch mirroring hers, her lip now bleeding too. Her hand came up to her mouth, and she looked at the red staining her fingers before plunging her hazel eyes into his fire ones. Soon, she had morphed to game face too and was back to fighting him. He let her stay in demon mode; no one would be able to catch sight of her here.

The new round was even more vicious than the precedents, and still neither was gaining the upper hand. Gleefully, Spike thought that this might last until morning. Unless they shifted to a different kind of dance before that…

The sun had disappeared below the horizon for a few minutes when the rented car with stained windows parked behind Anya’s in the driveway. Angel emerged from it, weariness battling with apprehension. He wasn’t sure what he would find here. Was Buffy completely under Spike’s thrall? Had he been so clever that he had even fooled Willow? How would Buffy take his concern now that they weren’t together anymore? He had decided to come at the minute he had heard Willow’s message, despite the reassuring words. He knew that Spike was at his most dangerous when he seemed the most harmless. He just had to come.

Asking Connor – not Connor, Steven, he had to get used to that - to come had seemed like a good idea. A quick trip out of town, the occasion to do some nice bonding without other people around. Cordelia had freaked the kid out, as well as Angel, when she had used her brand new demon powers to ‘cleanse’ him from all the horrors he had seen and fought. He had seemed to relax slightly after that, but he wasn’t any warmer toward Angel. He had asked the opinion of his ‘father’ before accepting to come, and, God, it hurt to hear him call someone else that. Angel had tried to initiate a few conversations during the trip, but Steven had cut short all his efforts, answering in monosyllabic only. He turned toward him as he came out of the car, and smiled. The warmth was lost in the cold stare he received in return. With a sigh, he walked to the front door and knocked.

It was Dawn who opened, laughing as she looked toward the living room. Then her eyes fell on him, and all traces all laughter disappeared, replaced by ice and hatred. Why she hated him, he had no idea, but he had no doubt that he would have been dust long ago if she had not feared her sister’s reaction to that. He certainly seemed to have a thing to make teenagers despise him.

With that, she stalked away, scowling, but leaving the door wide open. Shaking his head, he entered the house and followed her toward the living room, making sure that Steven was following.

He had expected to find Buffy or Willow, instead he was confronted to Xander and Anya. Dawn was in a corner, sulking.

Xander nodded, always cold toward him, but he was used to that. Anya smiled brightly.

“Buffy is not here,” she replied, sounding a bit hurt. “Willow is upstairs. I’ll call her.”

Without moving from her spot, she bellowed Willow’s name, making everyone jump in surprise. Angel turned to Steven, giving him an apologetic smile. The ‘old friends’ he had praised to his son had not even asked who the young man was yet, and they were acting rather rudely so far. However, Steven looked completely unconcerned.

As he moved a little around the room, a picture on a shelf caught his eye by his bright colors. He picked up the frame, smiling at the happy look on all the Scoobies’ face. He truly regretted not having been there for the wedding. Then he noticed the man on the far right, just next to Buffy. He hadn’t seen him so elegant in ages, but there was no mistaking the bleached hair and smirking smile.

Just then, Willow entered the room, followed by the other witch. He knew his eyes were probably gleaming with gold when he spun toward her, showing her the offending picture.

“You said there was nothing to worry about!” he accused. “Care to explain that?”

The girl’s mouth opened and she blushed, but no sound came out. Finally, it was Dawn who answered. She strode to him and took the frame from his hands.

“There is nothing to explain because it’s none of your business!” she barked.

She walked away toward the door, clutching the picture against her. Before getting out, she turned to him, a cruel smile on her lips.

Dawn banged the front door behind her, happy at the sound it made. Then she realized her mistake. She had planed to run to the Magic Box to warn Buffy and Spike, but if she did go there alone at night she would be grounded until she turned 21, and no puppy eyes would change that. Going back inside after such a big exit wasn’t an option either. Scowling, she sat down on the front steps, still holding the picture against her.

She heard the door open and someone step out, and she turned to the intruder, ready to give a tongue lashing if it was Angel. It wasn’t. Instead, it was that boy who had arrived with him. Furious at the vampire, she hadn’t paid much attention to him until now. He took a few steps until he was standing in front of her, his face inexpressive, except maybe for some curiosity.

Her eyebrows rose at his words. No hello, no introductions, straight to business. Rude.

“Not Angelus, Angel. I hate Angel because he’s a big stupid poof with an ego the size of Texas and as much sense as a goose and all he does is hurt my sister. Who are you?”

He ignored her question. As he frowned slightly, apparently puzzled, the thought crossed her mind that he looked cute with his head tilted just so. Cross that. He was cute, period.

She shook her head. “Not the same. I’ve seen both, and I don’t want to see Angelus ever again. Of course I don’t want to see Angel either, but at least he’s not evil. Just dumb.”

He seemed to be reflecting on her words, his eyes intent on her, as if trying to see through her.

Instinctively, she smiled. It seemed that the little club she had founded with Spike had just enrolled another member. Whose name she still ignored. She raised her hand toward him, saying:

He turned his back to her, thrusting his hands in his pockets and pacing angrily.

“My father forced me to accompany him. He says I have to spend time with him. But he’s a demon. A killer. An animal.”

The voice was cold, stating facts with no emotions. The contrast between his hateful words and pacing on one side and the lack of feelings in his voice on the other was just weird.

Dawn stared at him. He wasn’t making any sense at all. His father forced him to come because he was his father?.. Unless… Buffy had told her about Angel having a son. She hadn’t paid much attention, but she was rather sure she had mentioned a baby, not a teen.

Stupid idea. Of course he wasn’t. And he had said he hated him too, so it was even more stupid…

He stopped pacing and looked at her as she gaped at him. He seemed to guess that he had completely lost her. A very weird grin came to his lips. Sadness, regret, longing, and was there shame too?

“Angel is my father by blood,” he explained very quietly. “But I was raised by… someone else. My real father. In another dimension. Just came back to this world.”

It took Dawn a few seconds to process the information. It was just… wow… But then, wow was the story of her whole life. A thought crossed her mind.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s not like there’s something wrong with being a demon anyway.”

“Yes I am. I know several demons who are just fine people. They’re my friends…”

Her voice trailed as he started pacing again. In the dim light, she could see several emotions playing on his face. Anger was one. Incomprehension another. Confusion too. After a couple of minutes of silence, he lashed out, though she wasn’t sure whether he was talking to her or to himself.

“This dimension is full of crazy people. ‘Can’t believe they live next to demons and think it’s normal. It’s not normal! Demons don’t deserve to live and we have to destroy them!”

As the last words crossed his lips, he kicked angrily at the lawn gnome, breaking it in the process. Dawn rose to her feet, and took a few steps toward him, not too close, she didn’t want to be the next thing he kicked.

“Everything is not all black and white,” she said softly. “Some demons are bad and need to be killed. Other are just trying to live like you and me without hurting anyone.”

He looked at her, cocking his head, and she wondered whether he understood what she meant. Quickly, his eyes left hers, and he gave a sheepish glance at the remains of the gnome.

She had a short laugh. She didn’t know whether it was her sister or Willow who had placed that ugly thing on the lawn, but she was rather happy it was gone. Creepy little critter. She noticed something metallic gleaming among the pottery shards, and bent toward it, picking up what she quickly identified as a camera.

“I’m not sure,” she replied as she started back toward the house. “But I know it’s something bad.”

Buffy propped herself on her elbows, and looked at Spike, sprawled on the floor a few feet from her, where she had thrown him a couple of minutes before. He had been straddling her legs, blabbering something about becoming careless and not being invincible, whatever that meant, and she had send him flying over her. She didn’t remember ever fighting that long and that hard, and she was pretty sure she would be sore all over when morning came. Still, the fight had been exhilarating. Spike had forced her to push her limits over and over again, until she found resources in her she had no idea existed.

She managed to get to her feet and walked to Spike warily, expecting him to jump up and continue the fight.

“Good fight, luv,” he said with something that sounded very much like pride in his voice.

“Good?” she replied, pretending to be offended. “You mean bloody great fight, right?”

He laughed at her use of his words and hugged her tight. His blood was calling for her, tantalizingly close as she nuzzled his neck. She became conscious that she was still in game face. She didn’t bite, though, and returned to her human features. After nearly three hours of almost continuous sparing, he was probably as hungry as she was.

She pulled away from him and gave him a mock punch, to which he answered with an exceedingly loud grunt. She walked away toward the store, calling above her shoulder:

“Oh, I’m going to come, luv,” he replied, the smirk obvious in his voice. “And so are you.”

He caught up with her just as she was passing the door, his arms sliding around her waist, holding her back against his body. Dimly, she thought that he still had some blood left in him if she was to believe the hardness pressed against the small of her back. Then his hands were all over her, and all conscious thoughts fled her mind.

With a sigh, Willow let herself fall on the couch, refusing to look at Angel any longer just as he refused to listen to her. She had spend a good twenty minutes trying to explain to him why she was sure Spike wasn’t messing with Buffy’s mind. Of course, she wasn’t stupid enough to tell him that they were an item now and that he lived here, but she used all the other arguments she could think of. Tara and Anya jumped in to help, and, to her surprise, even Xander made a few comments about Spike that were not negative. But whatever they said, Angel might as well have been deaf. By now, he was just waiting for the Slayer’s return.

Dawn entered the house, followed by a kid that Willow had noticed earlier when she first came downstairs. The wedding picture that had started it all was still in her hand. Her other hand clutched…

“A video camera?” she heard herself exclaim as the teen deposited the thing on the coffee table.

“It was in the lawn gnome, in front of the house,” she explained. “Someone was spying on us.”

“Just think. Who's obsessed with Buffy? Who has been stalking her and keeping an eye on her?”

Dawn’s eyes were throwing daggers at the vampire, but curiously it was Xander who voiced the protest.

“Just think yourself. Ever seen Spike use anything remotely modern? Even his TV is an antiquity!”

“It’s not Spike,” Willow agreed, her tone decided and businesslike. “And we already know who is behind this. What we need is the where. Give me ten minutes and we will see who’s the biggest nerd.”

Various objects and books that had been on the research table were now scattered on the floor, some of them broken, yet Buffy couldn’t make herself care. She had vaguely complained when Spike cleared the table and made her lie down on it. She had tried to protest when he slid her sweat pants down her legs. But now objections were the farthest thing in her mind, and would stay away as long as he kept doing all the wonderful things he was doing down there…

Willow was sitting at the dining table, in front of her laptop, an intense look of concentration on her face. She was nibbling on her bottom lip, and Dawn wondered whether she wished she could used magic right now to speed the process a little. The Scoobies, Angel and Steven were scattered around the table, everyone looking at the redhead, everyone waiting for her to get through and confirm that it was indeed the three idiot geniuses who were behind the camera

Suddenly, Willow’s eyes widened in shock. Instinctively, Dawn moved to her side, her action mirrored by Xander, Anya and Tara.

“Whoa…” the teen exclaimed as images succeeded themselves on the computer screen.

Buffy whimpered as Spike drove into her in one long thrust. He remained still for a few seconds, watching her, a look of pure adoration on his face. She wrapped at the same time her legs and arms around him, pulling him to her, closer, deeper. Her lips found his as he started rocking inside her, torturing slow movements. Her tongue plundered his mouth and she moved her hips in time with his. His rhythm gradually became more urgent and she had to pull away from his lips, moaning his name as he angled his body to rub against her clit with each thrust.

Incredulous, the Scoobies stared as Willow revealed new locations with each key she pressed. Dawn couldn’t believe that someone would go to such lengths just to spy on them. And yet they had.

“I can’t believe it,” Willow said breathlessly. “The Double Meat Palace. The Bronze. My classrooms on campus, Xander's site...”

She was silent for a few seconds, and no one talked. The enormity of it all was just sinking in. Finally, the redhead shook her head.

As the image appeared on the screen, Willow stood and took a step back, bumping into Xander who had been standing behind her.

Tara’s hand was suddenly in front of Dawn’s eyes, but she had seen enough to recognize the two blondes. On the table at the Magic Box. There was no way she was ever doing research at that table, ever again!

A loud growl made her jump, and she pulled at Tara’s hand to see Angel on the side of the table, looking at the screen with eyes that gleamed with gold. Next to him Anya was looking quite interested by the show, and Dawn was sure it was giving her ideas. Xander’s cheeks were flushed and he was looking anywhere but at the screen, and so was Tara. Willow finally seemed to snap back to reality and fumbled with the keyboard until the image disappeared from the screen.

Everyone was still under the shock of what they had just seen. It was one thing to know they were doing it, quite another to actually see them. Dawn suddenly realized that Angel had disappeared. The sound of a car pulling away noisily answered her question before she could even voice it. This was bad, very bad.

“We have to warn them,” Xander said, his voice surprisingly calm. “He might be mad enough to try and kill them both.”

Willow darted toward the kitchen and its phone. Dawn’s eyes fell on Steven, who was still at the other end of the table, watching them all with curiosity.

Chapter 37: Blood Ties

Spike raised his head from where it was laying on Buffy’s chest to look at her face. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling, a peaceful, content smile. He brushed his lips on hers, light as a feather. Unable to resist, his tongue traced her mouth, tasting remnants of his own blood. He trailed kisses down her throat to the fresh marks he had left on her silky skin, lapping at them lovingly. That simple gesture made her stir against him.

Hell, he would never get used to it. Every time she said these simple words he felt like his heart was trying to jump out of his chest. He pulled her on top of him, grateful that the damn table was so sturdy.

He gave her kiss, slow and soft. With a sigh, she pulled away from his mouth and glided to the floor.

“We’d better clean up. Even in post marital bliss, Anya would kill us for making such a mess in here.”

Pulling himself to a sitting position, he watched her put her clothes back on. She made a face at the ripped panties and gave him a nasty look.

“’Bet they’ve made worse messes than this,” he said idly, noting that for all her glares she had managed to rip off all the buttons of his shirt.

“Come on luv, demon girl and Harris? It’s not hard to figure out what they do in here after store hours. Never noticed the smell? You should be able to, now.”

Her eyes widened, and he pulled her against him, laughing softly into her hair. The feel of her body renewed his desire and his hands wandered along her sides, caressing softly. She swatted the adventurous fingers away, giving him a serious look.

Well, if she was putting it like that… It took them only a few minutes to pick up the books and things he had carelessly dumped on the floor. Buffy picked up the shards of a broken vase – what was it doing on the research table anyway? – and went to the office to throw it out. The store having been restored to its spotless state, Spike returned to the training room, intent on retrieving his duster, and particularly his cigarettes. He was slipping the leather back on when the last person on earth he would have wanted to see strode in through the alley door, full game mask in effect. Angel’s eyes were glowing fiercely, and Spike wondered for a second if the poof had found a way to lose his soul again. The older vampire came straight to him, growling, and took a swing toward his face. Spike managed to duck and took a shot at Angel’s stomach. The brunette grunted but lost no time before striking again.

When he had been fighting with Buffy, Spike had mostly been trying to avoid her blows, even if it meant that he had less chances to touch her in return. Against his Sire, the game was different. Being hit was acceptable as long as it opened a way for a counter attack. And hurting Angel was so satisfying…

Dumping the remains of the vase in the trash, Buffy briefly wondered if it was a simple decoration item or something magical. In either case, she was sure she would hear about it when Anya noticed it was missing.

She grabbed a couple of blood bags in the fridge, wincing at the thought that there was no microwave to warm them. With a sigh, she sank her fangs in one of the bags and drained it quickly. She had fed a little from Spike, and he from her, but it wasn’t nearly enough after all the… exercise they had had tonight. All hail vampire stamina…

Just as she was leaving the office, she noticed the blinking light on the answering machine. She pressed the button to listen to the message. Some part of her brain had noticed the phone ringing a bit earlier, but she had been too occupied at the time to care about answering. Willow’s voice filled the room with urgency.

“Buffy, Angel is on his way to the Magic Box. He knows about you and Spike. He’s really mad, Angelus kind of mad. You two be careful.”

The curse escaped her lips without her noticing that it was a typical spikism. Worry creasing her forehead, she hurried out of the office, her eyes looking around for her lover. She didn’t see him, but she heard, coming from the training room, the distinct sounds of a fight. In three seconds she was there, shouting for them to stop. Strangely enough, they did, both vampires looking at her intently, both still in fighting stances. Spike gave her a weird smile, loving and gentle despite the fangs he flashed at her and the blood that trickled down his face. Angel was just the same, vampire features and bloody mess. But his look screamed pain.

With that, he lunged at Spike, tackling him to the ground, pummeling him mercilessly. She took a few steps toward them, but Spike’s eyes made contact with hers for a brief second and stopped her dead in her tracks. He didn’t want help. He didn’t need help. And he proved it right away, reversing the positions so that he was looming over Angel, returning the blows he had just received.

“This is not about Buffy,” she heard him growl. “This is about you! Whatever games you want to play, however hard you try to fool yourself, you’re not human. You’re a vampire, bloody soul or not.”

Angel managed to throw his Childe off him, pure fury coming from him in waves. He launched another round of kicks and punches, receiving as good as he gave.

“What would you know about souls?” he spat. “That chip in your head is not a soul. You’re just a demon!”

Again, Angel threw himself at Spike, again another round of vicious blows flying both ways. Mesmerized, Buffy watched as her Sire and lover slowly but clearly began to take advantage over his own Sire. Even after hours of sparring, even after the last rounds on the table, even with the blood that covered his face and hands, he still was able to overpower the older vampire.

And suddenly, it struck her. Blood. Long ago, he had said something that she had only begun to understand when she was turned. It was always about blood. Her blood in his veins. Slayer blood in a vampire. He had once made the comment that Slayer blood was aphrodisiac. Apparently, it was more than that. And again, he was amazing her. Knowing how potent her blood was, knowing that she was the only human he could bite, knowing that he could have asked just about anything from her while he was making her ‘feel’, he had never bit her during the time she was using him. One more proof, unneeded but oh so sweet, that he loved her more than anything.

Angel was now on the floor, Spike standing over him, staring at him, fists closed but not fighting any more.

“For your information, bloody poof,” he said with a quiet growl, “I am not forcing her to anything.”

Buffy assisted to what happened next as in slow motion, unable to move from where she was. She saw a dark-haired kid approach Spike from behind, his face set in a deadly expression that screamed ‘kill’. She saw the stake in his hand, rising toward Spike’s back. She heard a shout, and the logical part of her brain told her it was Dawn’s voice. She didn’t look for her though, her eyes never leaving the boy. She saw him hesitate, ignoring Angel who was rising an appeasing hand toward him, instead looking behind him toward Dawn. In that brief moment of hesitation, Spike twirled and his foot caught the kid’s wrist, sending the stake flying through the room. Time returned to its proper pace, and Buffy left out a deep sigh.

She came closer to the fighters just as Angel was getting back to his feet. She gave both vampires an angry glare, her hands settling over her hips in a universal gesture of feminine anger.

Spike gave her an amused look, while Angel’s face turned totally inexpressive.

“He is manipulating you,” the oldest vampire said angrily. “And he’s doing it so well that you don’t even realize it.”

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, silently imploring whoever was out there to give Angel a clue.

Spike’s face had returned to his human features when she had come closer, but gold danced in his irises at Angel’s words. This was going to turn ugly again if she didn’t stop it quickly. She gave a glance at the boy who had come after Spike, abruptly wondering who he was.

They looked at each other, exchanging startled looks. Angel nodded as he repeated the name apologetically.

He gave her a pleading look, and she could feel that he was going to try to convince her again that Spike was using her. She turned to Spike, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

He cocked his head, looking at her through eyes as tumultuous as the ocean in a storm. After a couple of seconds, he nodded slowly, throwing a quick frown at Angel but thankfully not saying a word. She grabbed Angel’s arm and dragged him outside in the alley.

Spike watched his Slayer and his Sire disappear from sight, and had to fight the urge to go after them. But she had asked him to stay. And he had agreed. Whipped.

Warily, he glanced at the boy who had come at his back, then at his Nibblet. She was looking at him, worry shining in her eyes. He realized he must be quite a sight.

She swallowed heavily and nodded, her face relaxing a little. He went by the couch where a towel had been left and wiped his face as well as he could. Minor cuts, mostly, but he was still going to look like a mass of bruises for a few days. Unless Buffy’s blood helped him heal faster. He couldn’t wait to test that theory.

Letting himself fall on the couch, he lit a cigarette, dragging on it heavily as he observed the kid. Steven, they had said. Whoever he was, he was still looking at Spike like he was expecting him to attack.

The kid took a few steps toward him, shadowed by Dawn who was looking rather anxious.

“You’re a vampire,” Steven said coldly. “That’s all I need to know.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at that, chuckling softly. Before he could say anything though, Dawn was stepping between the two of them, her hands on her hips, looking exactly like Buffy a few moments earlier.

“You need to stop with that ‘kill all demons’ nonsense,” she said heatedly. “I told you some demons are good. Spike is one of them.”

Usually, he would have protested at being called ‘good’. He was anything but good! He was a Master Vampire, even if no one ever seemed to remember it any more. Yet, hearing the nibblet take his defense was just sweet and he contented himself with smiling at her back fondly. The boy however wasn’t relenting.

“He might pretend to be good,” he said as if pleading for Dawn to agree with him, “but he’s still a demon. And demons are bad.”

“I trust him,” Dawn insisted. “If you can’t trust him, at least trust me when I say he doesn’t hurt people.”

The kid gave her a searching look, before considering Spike for a long moment. Finally, he returned his attention to Dawn, shaking his head.

“Coming from the mouth of a demon, that’s just plain funny,” Spike commented with a smirk.

“I don’t know what you are, but you’re not completely human. ‘Cause you see, I can’t hurt humans. But I can hurt you.”

The boy didn’t understand his tirade of course, but Dawn did. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized. He had kicked the kid's hand to eliminate the stake menace. She asked breathlessly:

“Didn’t react. Therefore our friend here is not human. And by the way, who is he?”

Dawn glanced at the frowning brunette before answering, as if she wasn’t sure she could.

He stared at the kid, who returned his look levelly. Now that he knew, he could see some resemblance. Even his scent was familiar, a mix of Angel and something else. Someone else.

Spike nodded absently, trying to understand how two vampires had managed to produce a child. Not completely human, or so the chip said, but certainly not vampire, with his strong and regular heartbeat.

Steven looked at Spike intently, as if waiting for more, but if he wanted to hear more he would have to ask. Spike wasn’t particularly inclined to go down that memory lane right now. Finally the kid asked a question, though not what Spike expected.

Good question, really, that had about a hundred answers, all part of the truth. It had started because of Buffy, certainly. But for Spike it had quickly turned into payback for a hundred and something years of pain and solitude, which had only ended when Buffy accepted him in her life. Even during his years with Drusilla, a shadow had been standing over them, always present.

“I could spend the night giving you reasons,” he said finally. “Short story is, the poof and I have some communication problems.”

Dawn gave him a curious look. That was certainly not the answer she had expected. She sat on the couch next to him, leaning slightly against his shoulder, her eyes still focused on Steven. Spike suppressed an amused smile. What was it with Summers women and the Aurelius line?

Spike took a last drag on his cigarette before crushing it under his boot. Hate. Such a big word.

“In a way, yes, I hate him,” he replied after a moment. “But it’s not that simple.”

“Why not? Either you hate someone or you don’t. I hate him. There’s nothing complicated about it.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, Spike considered the child in front of him. What could he know about hate already?

“How do I know he hasn’t? And what about the murders before that? What if he starts killing again?”

Spike nodded. He knew the kid’s line of thought all too well. How many times had these words been said about him?

“Everybody makes mistakes,” he said in a whisper. “Humans, demons, it doesn’t change a thing what you are. In the end, it’s all about what you do to make up for them.”

Dawn’s little hand sneaked up and took hold of his. He glanced at her, finding her eyes full of tears, and squeezed her fingers gently. For the longest time, Steven stared at them, vampire and little girl huddled against each other, her comforting him with a touch of her hand. He returned the look without wavering. He had nothing to hide and was not ashamed of what he was and whom he loved. Eventually, the kid’s posture relaxed imperceptibly.

Half a smile crept up on Spike’s face. He might come to like him. Come to think of it, they shared the same blood. What did that make them? Brothers?

Once they were out in the alley, Buffy let go of Angel’s arm. If she was to convince him of anything, she had to take him away from Spike. These two couldn’t be in the same room without sparks flying and threatening to light a blaze. She settled herself in front of him and looked straight into his eyes.

“Spike is in no way and has never been using me, controlling me or playing games with my mind,” she declared forcefully.

His fingers traced the fresh puncture marks on the side of her neck, and she had to control herself not to take a step back.

His hand fell back at his side, his eyes flashing gold. He opened his mouth but she spoke again before he could say a word.

“Don’t you dare say that he forced me to love him. You know that if he was doing any such thing I would be aware of it. I love him, period.”

“I was in love with him before he turned me,” she whispered. “So don’t say it’s just a Sire thing.”

His eyes closed and threw his head back, turning his face to the sky. She remained quiet, waiting for the reaction she was sure was coming. But when it came, it wasn't what she expected. He shook his head, and his eyes found hers again, looking deep, searching.

She couldn’t stand his gaze and walked a few steps away, wrapping her arms around herself. It hurt to pain him so, but he was the one who had come back even though their relationship was over. If he didn’t want to understand, she would have to make him.

“Spike looks at me,” she said finally, “and he sees all I am. He sees the light and the dark. The nice parts and the not so nice. And he loves it all. He accepts me as what I am. He did when I was human. He still does now. And I realized that I love all he is too. The nice and the not so nice. His human side and his vampire side. I already loved it all before he turned me.”

She dared a glance at Angel. He had retreated to the wall and was leaning against it, as if needing some kind of support to remain standing.

“When we were together,” he started hesitantly, “after you were turned…”

“No, it wasn’t about him then. I was with you, truly, I really believed it could work between us. But it couldn’t. Even if he hadn’t been around, it still wouldn’t have worked.”

His face was completely drained of emotions as he stared at the ground unblinkingly. Uncertain, she considered her next words carefully. She came back in front of him and caught his eyes.

“Angel… I value your friendship. I am touched that you care about me so much. But I beg you, do not try to come up between Spike and me again. If you hurt him, or drain him, or kill him, I will not hesitate to dust you. It will hurt like hell, but I will.”

Chapter 38: Amends

Warily, Spike observed as Buffy and Angel came back inside. They both looked somber, and he wondered what had gone on in that alley. Leaving the two kids chatting on the couch, he walked toward the two souled vampires. He managed to repress a sigh when Buffy’s arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. He knew she was his; that didn’t mean he had liked seeing her walk out with the poof.

Spike glanced at his frowning Sire. Understanding wasn’t exactly what he looked to be. Hurt, sad, yes, but understanding? Though it was a bit hard to judge, with the usually inexpressive face covered in dried blood and already appearing bruises. As he surveyed his handiwork, Spike couldn’t repress a smug smile. It had been a hell of a fight, but it had been bloody good too.

“I’ll go get you two some blood,” Buffy said thoughtfully, her mind probably following the same path as his.

With that, she gave him a quick peck on the lips and pulled away from his embrace, walking back to the shop. His eyes followed her, unable to let go of her sight.

Startled, Spike turned his gaze back to Angel. The brunette’s head was tilted slightly, his eyelids reduced to narrow slits, as if he was gauging him.

“She said that?” Spike murmured, mild surprise and pride seeping through his voice.

Angel simply nodded, never ceasing to observe his Childe. It occurred to Spike that Buffy’s threat might not be enough to deter Angel.

“I would kill you for her,” the younger vampire declared quietly. “If that’s what it takes to have her. I would kill my own Sire.”

“I think you made that clear earlier,” he replied. “And I will try not to give either of you a reason. I can’t say I approve though.”

“’Never thought you would. And it’s not like we need your approval anyway.”

Angel didn’t react to the taunting. Instead, he whispered the very last words Spike would have ever thought he would hear from him.

Spike frowned at the words, wondering what in hell Buffy could have told Angel to make him an even bigger poof than he already was.

“Sorry about what?” he asked, trying, and failing, to make his voice sound unconcerned.

“The list is long I guess. Let’s just say I’m sorry about the crypt and about today.”

Stunned, Spike stared as the man in front of him divested himself of his leather jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing his right wrist.

“I took too much on purpose and for wrong reasons,” Angel said very low. “I offer reparation.”

Spike couldn’t believe his ears and eyes. His Sire, apologizing, and proposing to give amends? He couldn’t detach his gaze from the exposed skin that was proposed to him. That was where he had drunk from, the very first time, so long ago. It was also from that same wrist that he had received rewards, a few precious times, so very rarely. Unconsciously, he licked his lips.

Buffy chose that moment to come back from the shop. She handed each of them a pack of blood, oblivious to the tension crackling between them.

“I called home,” she said quickly. “Willow told me she found out where the three geeks are hiding. I want to go after them tonight.”

At the tone of her voice, Spike idly thought that she sounded both angry and embarrassed, and he wondered absently what was troubling her. Yet, despite the urgency of her words, he couldn’t make himself focus on her, his eyes still considering Angel’s bare wrist.

“Buffy, would you mind taking Connor and Dawn outside? We’ll be out in a minute.”

Angel’s quiet words made Spike snap out of his trance, and he glanced at the brunette before turning his gaze to Buffy. She was considering both of them with a slight frown. She finally noticed the rolled sleeve, and her eyes widened slightly in surprise, immediately looking up at Spike’s, questioning. His hand rose to her face, fingers brushing against the soft skin of her cheek.

Her hand mirrored his gesture, caressing his face, and he leaned into the tender touch. She didn’t say a word, but something passed through her eyes. She knew what it was like to crave her Sire’s blood. She understood.

Unable to force a word out of her throat, and not knowing what she would have said even if she had been able to talk, Buffy left the two men and joined the teens, beckoning them outside. She noticed the looks that both Dawn and Steven darted toward the vampires. Dawn was worried. Steven seemed… curious.

Buffy wasn’t so sure what her sentiments were. She knew what was going to happen. Angel’s bared wrist would have been enough to clue her in, but what she had seen in Spike’s eyes had confirmed it. Bloodlust, pure and simple. She couldn’t help but feel a tingle of jealousy that he would drink from someone else than her. Yet, at the same time, she understood, all too well, why he would. She herself couldn’t get enough of her Sire’s blood. She loved him, and couldn’t get enough of all of him as a rule it seemed, but she knew it was her demon demanding his blood. Not just any blood, his. Not because she loved him, but because she was his Childe. Why would it be different for Spike? She wondered when he had tasted Angel’s – no, Angelus’ - blood for the last time. Probably a long, long time ago.

As they waited outside next to the rented car, Buffy realized that, if she knew who Steven was, they hadn’t been formerly presented. She offered her hand to him, smiling gently when he shook it awkwardly. Someone still would have to explain to her why he was a teen and not a baby.

He considered her for a little moment, his head tilted, brown eyes looking deep in hers, very much like his father’s.

“Dawn told me you are the Slayer,” he said finally. “If you’re supposed to kill vampires, how can you be friend with them?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Rude, she thought. A quick glance at Dawn revealed that her sister was annoyed by the boy’s reaction.

“I am the Slayer,” she conceded. “I get to kill any harmful demon that crosses my way. That doesn’t mean all of them.”

She crossed her arms, getting even more exasperated by the deep frown the kid was giving her.

“Steven has a little problem accepting that not all demons are bad,” Dawn supplied with a sigh.

Grinning at the idea that flashed through her mind, Buffy looked around, making sure that no one could see or hear them.

“Not only I have vampires and demons friends,” she said quietly as her eyes settled on Steven again, “But I’m also in love with one. And I happen to be a vampire myself.”

With the last words, she flashed her game face at the kid, baring her fangs in a mocking smile. He gave a start, but did not take a step back or show any fear.

She turned toward the two approaching men, physically so different and yet so similar in every other way. Both vampires. Both clad in black leather. Both bruised and bloodied. Both had drunk from her. Both had shared her bed. Both she had battled. Both she had loved. But only one held her heart now.

Spike came to her, his arm sliding naturally around her waist. Angel stayed at a reasonable distance.

“We’re going back to LA tonight,” he declared, talking both to her and Steven, getting identical nods as a reply.

A few minutes later, Angel was leaving Dawn, Spike and Buffy in front of their home, and riding away with Steven. As she was striding toward the house, Buffy noticed that her sister stared at the car until it vanished. Strangely enough, Spike did the same thing.

Chapter 39: Seeing Red (1)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As before, VERY loosely based on the actual episode. I kept some of the dialogue and some of the events, but at this point it doesn't look like what I assume you saw on tv. The nerds annoy me endlessly, so I'm still not touching their scenes.

Spike followed Buffy down the steps into the three idiots’ lair, grinning at the way she had kicked the door open. Said door was now reduced to remains the sizes of matches. Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she was bloody good at that game. Of course, it rather helped that she was really pissed off. He pitied the nerds when she found them. Even in his worst days, he had rarely made her that mad.

He observed her as she walked around the basement. God, she was gorgeous when she was angry. The rest of the time too, naturally, but the way her eyes gleamed with gold… Just bleedin’ gorgeous, there was no other word.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t angry as she was. Amused, rather. Annoyed too, but mostly amused. So what if the Scoobies had caught a free show? It wasn’t like any of them didn’t know. No, it was just amusing the way they avoided his gaze or blushed or stammered as they looked at him and the Slayer. Except for Anya. The ex-demon had seemed more interested in making sure they had cleaned the shop than in pretending to be prudish. Annoying on the other hand was what they could have seen. Buffy biting him. Buffy in game face. Again, Spike didn’t care about the Scoobies, they knew that she was a vampire now and they certainly weren’t going to tell anyone. But the three wankers might have discovered that. According to her friends, Buffy’s face had been mostly hidden and they didn’t see her vamp out. Still, the possibility had existed.

And yet, it was no more than annoying to him. He felt ready to take on the world to protect her. That she was perfectly able to protect herself changed nothing about it. Unlife was just getting better each day, so how could he be angry? Absently, he fingered the two small and puckered wounds on his wrist. One less thing to think and brood about, on a list that was becoming shorter every day it seemed. Not that he brooded about it, of course, he left that to Peaches.

Buffy muttered a curse, and he half smiled at hearing the familiar expression in her mouth.

“Let’s just grab whatever they left behind,” she proposed, gesturing at a pile of papers and books. “Maybe that will help us find them.”

Nodding, Spike gathered all he could hold. From the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy tilt a white board. He raised his eyes toward her, reading the short message at the same time as he heard the buzzing sound.

For once in her life – or unlife – she listened to him without asking questions first, and narrowly avoided the huge buzz saw that sliced the board in front of her. He heard more buzzing sounds, coming from different directions.

“Let’s get out of here!” she shouted as she ran past him, grabbing a handful of papers and CDs as she did.

They had to slalom, jump and dive to avoid being cut in slices, but they finally made it out without damage. Or rather, almost without damage. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at her jacket, which had been neatly sliced in the front. He didn’t smell blood, so she was untouched, but the jacket was completely ruined. And he had thought she couldn’t get any angrier…

“Okay,” she said very low, her eyes flashing gold furiously. “Now that's gonna cost them.”

Buffy woke to find Spike sitting across her legs, massaging her back with long and insistent motions. She purred in her pillow as the tension was eased from her body by his skillful hands. Very skillful hands. Hands that could fight or stroke with the same intensity. They had done both, the night before. They would do both again many times if she had her word to say about it.

As he noticed that she was now awake, his touch changed, becoming more caress than massage, tracing elaborate patterns on her skin that set all her nerves on fire. His fingers traveled on her, running along the sides of her breasts, then gliding down the curve of her back and across her ass, finally sliding between her slightly parted thighs. He let out a soft murmur of appreciation at finding her ready for him, and softly nudged her legs farther apart. Agonizingly slow, he pushed until he was buried inside her. His chest pressed against her back, his tongue brushing against the marks on her neck. Her whole body tingled at the touch and she unconsciously raised her hips, eliciting a quiet moan against her skin.

He rolled them so that they were now lying on their sides. His arm wrapped around her waist, his fingers returning to their sensual exploration of her skin as he moved inside her in a lazy rhythm. She clutched his hand, leading it to her breast, her nipples begging to be touched. He obliged, caressing and teasing until the pebbles were hard against his palm. Then his hand slid across her stomach, and as his fingers found the other part of her that was begging for attention, she couldn’t help but marvel at how well he knew her body. He flicked and twisted her clit in time with his thrusting, his pace now increasing. Buffy felt an unexpected fang graze her shoulder, and she quaked with the sweet release as Spike held her tighter against him, his own body quivering inside and around her. They remained in the same spooned position, quietly enjoying the feel of each other.

After a while, Buffy laced his fingers with hers, bringing them to her mouth. As she traced each digit with slow licks and kisses, she noticed the marks on his wrist. An involuntary growl escaped her throat. Spike rose on his elbow so he could see what she was protesting about, and kissed the side of her face tenderly.

She brought his hand higher, nipping at the scars with blunt teeth as if trying to erase them, and a low rumble rose from his chest. Thoughtlessly, she shifted to game face and bit his wrist, covering the offending marks with her own.

Willow raised her eyes from her computer screen toward the two vampires entering the living room. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and scolded herself mentally. They were the ones who should be blushing, not her! Casting a quick glance at Tara next to her, she noted that she wasn’t the only one still embarrassed by the events of the previous day. Her eyes scanned the room, finding that Xander’s face was slightly flushed. Dawn was munching from a box of cereal, a satisfied grin on her lips as she watched her sister and Spike come closer. Anya was oblivious, concentrated on a heavy spell book, inside which, Willow had noticed, she had slipped the latest pictures from her honeymoon.

“Hey guys,” Buffy said cheerfully. “We're here! Ready for action…uh, bad guy fighting action.”

If vampires could blush, Buffy would probably be crimson by now. Spike, on the other hand, was a picture of smugness.

“Any luck with that mess? I tried to look at it last night but couldn’t find anything useful.”

“Not much progress,” Willow answered with an apologetic smile. “But we’re getting there. We’ll find what they plan and where they hide.”

Buffy nodded, her face suddenly becoming somber as she looked at the Scoobies around the room.

“Guys, I’m sorry to ruin your Sunday with research. I’m sure all of you would have better things to do…”

Again, Willow felt herself blush. This had not been how she had planed to spend her first day with Tara back into her life. Oh well… They would have all the time in the world once the geeks ceased to be a problem.

“Come on Buffster,” Xander quipped, “what could be better than digging through moldy books and Klingon love poems to find the evil trio and kick their sorry asses?”

By the heavy silence that followed, all of them could think of something better to do. Trying to return her mind to the task at hand, Willow reminded herself to ask Xander later since when he could read Klingon well enough to identify love poems…

Buffy kneeled by the coffee table, picking up a pile of papers and starting to run through them. Spike on the other hand was slipping his duster on, apparently getting ready to go out.

“Uh, Spike,” Dawn said worriedly, “it’s kinda sunny out there, you know.”

Coming from a man whose face was a mass of bluish bruises, the comment wasn’t half as convincing as it would have been otherwise. He cast an amused glance to them all, before declaring:

“You kids have fun with your books. I’ll go hit the demons bars and see if I can find any rumors.”

He bend to kiss Buffy as she looked up at him, and Willow wondered, annoyed, when she would ever be able to look at them together without starting to blush.

“Don’t wait for me for patrol,” he whispered to the Slayer. “’Have a couple of things I want to do tonight.”

He certainly had been very protective of her since he had turned her, Willow told herself thoughtfully. Then she realized, it had started long before that.

With a last kiss, the vampire was striding out, protecting himself of the sun with a blanket. Willow noticed that Buffy’s eyes had followed him out, and the Slayer gave a small sigh as the door closed behind him.

“We’ll find them,” Willow said quietly. “It will take time, but we will find them.”

Walking through her third cemetery of the evening, all her senses focused on finding vamps to dust, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder where Spike was. She had gotten used to having him around on patrol, even if most of the time he did nothing but watch her fight. She missed him, his quips as well as his comforting presence. She had missed him all day long, as she and her friends went meticulously through the seemingly endless pile of evidence salvaged from the nerds’ lair. Dimly, she wondered whether Spike had had any more luck finding useful information. She couldn’t wait to find the three idiots, but at the same time she wasn’t sure what she would do then. Fight them? They were humans, and as annoying as they were, she had no right to kill them. Give them to the police? For what crimes? There was no evidence that they had been behind the bank robbery or the diamond’s disappearance. They had turned her invisible, but who would believe that? They were behind that young woman’s death, she was sure of it, but again she had no evidence. They had spied on her and her friends, but now their system had been torn down by Willow’s care. What would they invent next to make her unlife miserable?

Her Slayer sense tingled and she spotted a vampire, a few yards away. As quietly as she could, she approached him, intent on dusting him before he knew what was happening. However, he noticed her and evaded her stake, launching a few quick blows at her. After the training she had had the night before, this was nothing. Easily, she avoided all the hits, and plunged her stake toward the vamp’s chest, already grinning in self-satisfaction. Yet, before he turned to dust, he managed to finally touch her, kicking her hard and sending her flying into the nearest headstone. She grunted at the impact, which had been violent enough to break the stone in two. Grimacing, she got back to her feet, her hand reaching to her sore back, suddenly glad Spike wasn’t there. He would have been pretty upset at seeing that, and she was sure she would have heard about it for days. Trying her best not to limp, Buffy made her way out of the cemetery and toward home.

Chapter 40: Seeing Red (2)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: And there we go. The infamous bathroom scene. Needless to say, my version is slightly different than the one Joss inflicted on us... Duh!

Spike entered the bathroom quietly, closing the door noiselessly behind him. Buffy was leaning over the tub, starting the water. She was clad in her bathrobe only, and he played with the idea of shagging her on the bathroom floor. His latest evil plan was to make her come in every room of the house. But then, he noticed the grimace of pain on her face when she straightened up and turned to him, the way she reached to hold her back.

Spike frowned. If it wasn’t that bad, she wouldn’t be grimacing again as she divested herself of the robe. He stepped closer to help her, easing the sleeve gently over her shoulder. He let his fingers run lightly over the large bruise on her back. And she said it was nothing… He regretted not having gone on patrol with her. Surely, he could have helped prevent that. He held her elbow as she climbed into the tub.

“Care to join me?” she proposed as she settled down in the bubbles, carefully settling her back against the tub.

The idea was tempting, but he knew if he got in there with her, he would forget about her hurt back. So he just shook his head slightly.

“Another time, luv. When I can hold you without hurting you more than you already do.”

Kneeling by the side of the tub, he rolled his sleeves up. He picked up a washcloth and rubbed soap on it before softly running it on her shoulders. She purred her appreciation, her eyes closing in contentment.

He had heard a few things, alright, and shared his information with Willow already. She was checking out a few last minute things, but he knew already that they would hunt for the nerds later that night. In the meantime, he wanted his Slayer to rest and relax a little.

He brushed the washcloth down her arm, gliding along her skin, then back up, across her neck and down the other arm. A faint smile was playing on her lips, and he leaned in to kiss it chastely. Concentrating next on her front, he made sure to avoid touching her nipples, drawing large circles around them instead. She whimpered quietly, eyes still closed, and he just grinned. Next his hand plunged in the water, rubbing her stomach, inching down until he was barely brushing against her soft curls. She parted her thighs slightly, inviting him lower. Instead, he ran the cloth over her thigh, sliding all the way to her toes and coming back up to his starting point, before repeating his actions with the other leg. He finally gave in, sinking between her thighs to brush ever so lightly against her swollen flesh. Again, she whimpered, this time arching her hips a little to increase the pressure of his touch. He let go of the cloth, rubbing instead his fingers around her clit, not touching yet, just teasing. Her eyes opened and looked straight into his, pleading, begging. He complied. Pressing his thumb against the hard bud, he slipped a finger past her folds, then two, pumping rhythmically against her most sensitive flesh. His free hand reached for his erection, shifting it to a less painful position in the confines of his jeans. She was biting her lower lip and he could tell she was close, very close. He flicked her clit hard, once, twice, and was rewarded by a deep moan as her body shuddered in the water. He kissed her again, running a lazy tongue on her swollen lips.

Grinning with self-satisfaction, Spike got to his feet and picked up a towel, wrapping it around her body as she stepped out of the tub.

Dried and dressed, Buffy stepped down to the living room, shadowed by a still grinning Spike. Xander and Anya were gone, but Willow and Tara were still there with Dawn, still looking over the evil Trio documents. Funny, Buffy reflected. Willow had moved out of the house the day before, and yet she had spent the day there. Hopefully, the three geeks would be behind bars soon, and the wiccas would finally be able to spend some time together.

Willow raised her eyes to them, at last not blushing as she looked at her and Spike. She smiled, beckoning them to come closer.

“What did you find out?” Buffy asked as she came to stand next to her, where she could see the laptop. On the screen, she could see what looked like blueprints and schematics.

“They're looking to score some serious dinero,” Willow confirmed with a nod. “I don't think they're planning just one job.”

“You don't have to,” Willow said with a deep smile. “There's one here we think they'll hit tonight.”

Buffy took the few papers Tara was handing her, looking over them before passing them to Spike. He barely glanced at them, and she had the distinct feeling he had seen them before.

“We can stop them,” he said, “but the rumor going around is that they stole some kind of orbs. ‘Make them tougher, stronger.”

As they walked briskly toward the amusement park, Spike kept glancing at the beauty by his side. Before they left the house, he had given her a little gift. His day in bars had been fruitful money wise, and between playing poker and pool he had amassed enough to go shopping before coming home, as he had hoped. First, he had gotten a few things for their new lair. They had decided to move from her room to the more spacious master bedroom now that Willow had left it. A little paint, heavy drapes and a few other accessories would make it quite comfortable. Then he had noticed in a store window the perfect gift for his Childe. The idea had been nagging him for a little while, and the way her jacket had been ruined the night before just made it more fitting. He had bought the item without a second thought. Watching her stride purposefully, wrapped in the black leather that stopped just above her calves, his only thought was that it had been a bloody great idea. He had heard her a few times make appreciative comments about his duster. Now she had her own, and they were twin shadows in the night.

As they finally came in sight of the park, they found that the three nerds were already there. The bot guy, Warren, was effortlessly ripping off the back door of an overturned armored car and tossing it aside. In a few strides, Buffy had jumped on top of the car, and a mix of pride and love filled Spike as he watched her, standing there, the duster flapping around her in the wind.

“Is this your bank?” she asked the wanker. “'Cause if not, there's gonna be a fee for that.”

Warren just had the time to look up before she dropped down on him. But instead of being knocked down, he caught her and threw her a good twenty feet away. Spike couldn’t suppress a wince as she landed hard on her back. She struggled to her feet as Warren strolled toward her. Growling, Spike approached them, oblivious to the insults they traded back and forth. His anger grew even hotter as that kid landed a couple of hard blows Buffy should have been able to avoid easily. No doubt about it, she was more hurt than what she had admitted. Grabbing Warren’s arm as he was going to hit again, Spike twisted it roughly behind him… and was instantly punished by the chip. He released his grip immediately and clutched his head, roaring at the piercing pain. Warren didn’t have time to spare the agonizing vampire a second glance, as Buffy grabbed the ripped armored car door and swung at him, sending him to crash into an archway. He shook the blow off, laughing, until the arch above him broke loose and buried him under rubble.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, grinding his teeth. “Get the two other wankers.”

She followed the direction of his gesture, and strode purposefully to Andrew and Jonathan. Spike barely paid attention, angry that he was so utterly useless to her in this particular fight. As he had seen Warren’s abnormal strength, Spike had forgotten a small detail. He was human. And the chip didn’t care that he was a criminal. Still scowling, Spike noticed that the pile of rubble was moving.

She spun, facing a laughing Warren as he approached her, brushing the dust off his clothes. As he did so, his jacket pulled back, revealing a small leather pouch hanging from his belt.

In a jump, Buffy was by him, surprising him by the rapidity of her attack. She snatched the pouch away from him and crushed it on the ground. A red flash enveloped Warren and he grunted, staggering. With a nice kick to the chest, Buffy sent him flying backwards, at last landing a blow that had hurt. She approached him slowly, a predatory grin gracing her lips. Warren managed to get back to his feet, holding his chin high in front of her, and Spike wondered what she was about to do. She wouldn’t, couldn’t kill him. She was the Slayer, she was a vampire, but she was not a killer. Spike wished he could have taken care of the idiot for her; if anyone deserved a beating, or worse, it was him. But he could do nothing but stand there, useless, his fists closed so tight that his nails were breaking the skin of his palms.

“You're nothing but a sad little boy, Warren,” she said with barely a hint of anger piercing in her voice. “But it's time to grow up and pay for what you've done.”

As he shouted, Warren stripped of his jacket, revealing, of all things, a jet pack strapped to his back.

His last words were lost in deafening noise as he rose to the sky, leaving a trail of white smoke behind him. Buffy looked up at him, utterly disappointed.

Noise caught Spike’s attention, and he turned in time to see one of the other idiots – Andrew? – shoot up in the air, propelled by the same kind of rocket as Warren, and immediately slam into the overhanging roof structure above him. The last member of the group looked down at his stunned acolyte, then turned his eyes to Buffy, his hands rising unthreateningly. A police siren was wailing, coming undoubtedly in their direction.

Through the window of the master bedroom, Spike was watching the garden. It was morning, but dark clouds blocked the sun, and his Slayer was down there, pacing. He wanted to join her, but she needed time to think about what he had told her.

He wanted the chip out. He hadn’t asked her opinion about it, he had simply told her that he wanted it out. And he was going to get it out, even if he had to go halfway around the world for that. He had never liked being useless – who did? – and watching her fight Warren while she was hurt, being able to do nothing to help her, had been intolerable. It couldn’t go on like that. It was time for the chip to come out. He had thought about it all night long, there was no other way.

Of course, she was reticent. She hadn’t told him flat out not to do it, but he knew her well enough to read the emotions she tried to hide. Mostly, she was afraid, and he thought he knew why. She was afraid he would go back to killing if the chip ever stopped working. He couldn’t blame her to think that, really. She knew the hunger now, knew what it was like to fight a famished demon raging and screaming for blood. He wished he could make her see, make her believe at last, that he was stronger than the demon. That he could go on living on blood bags. That all he wanted was the knowledge that he could protect her at all time if needed.

Someone approached Buffy, and he recognized Willow. He wondered what they were talking about. Him, or the escaped wanker?

“Yeah… I have a favor to ask you. ‘Was wondering whether you’d be able to magic the chip out of my head. Or just zap it or something.”

“I… I don’t know. Even if I could, I’m not sure… what does Buffy think about it?”

He laughed half-heartedly. He hadn’t put much hope on this, so he wasn’t too disappointed. Still, it somewhat hurt. Did any of them really trust him?

“She likes the idea of a chipless Spike just as much as you do,” he said dejectedly.

“Spike, it’s not…” she started, then hesitated. She was silent for a few seconds, studying him.

“If I could,” she said finally, her voice slightly firmer, “I would do it. I don’t believe you would get all evil without it. You love her too much for that.”

“But I don’t think I can do it,” she added, almost apologetic. “It would be really tricky, messing with…”

Unable to understand what was going on, Spike stared at Tara, who in return was watching him with horror. The front of her shirt was splattered with blood. His blood, he realized as pain made him sink to his knees.

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

Kallysten - kallysten_fr@yahoo.com

His Childe

Chapter 21: Lust (1)

Chapter 22: Lust(2)

Chapter 23: Long Night

Chapter 24: Hells Bells (1)

Chapter 25: Hells Bells (2)

Chapter 26: Hells Bells (3)

Chapter 27: New Marks

Chapter 28: Still the Queen

Chapter 29: Pretend