Adamo



- Prologue -


Spike felt the stone floor rush up to meet his knees as he crumpled to the ground. Before him stood the statue that would forever represent everything he had lost in the few short months it had taken for his world to implode. His throat and chest felt tight with emotion. He choked back a sob as he found himself gasping for a breath he hadn’t needed in over a century as he fought a losing battle to gain a hold over the emotions that were trying to overwhelm him.

They were both gone. For the first time in his existence he was completely alone—Master by default of a family of which he was the only surviving member, a family that he felt no drive to rebuild or maintain now that he was alone. So alone.

Dru he had taken out easily—his dark, vicious Princess with her childlike innocence that had been the downfall of many a victim before him and many more after.

He had been defending himself when he had taken her out, reacting without thought to the consequences until she had crumpled to dust at his feet. It was only then that he realised what he had done. Surprisingly enough though, he hadn’t felt the mind numbing devastation that he had once believed he would have in the event of her demise. He could remember a time when even the mere thought of her final death was near painful. Not once would he have dreamt that he would be the one to end her. The dust that had rested before his feet, however, was evidence that he had, and strangely enough all that he had felt—was feeling—was the completely opposite.

Relief.

Relief that finally he had been released from the pressure brought from the continuous care she needed—a pressure that had been a constant in his unlife for more than a century. He loved her—he loved her more than anything he could ever remember loving—but he couldn’t deny that it was relief that he felt. And god help him if that didn’t make his heart ache more.

Perhaps even more shocking though, and what he could have never been prepared for was the complete sense of loss and loneliness he had felt with the death of his grandsire. Spike had been so sure that he hated him with everything he was: for his superiority, for leaving them when he got the soul, and for stealing Dru out from underneath him once again. He hated everything that Angelus represented and how he would dominate him for no other reason than to relieve boredom. He hated how he would fuck Dru in front of him and make her scream for him in a way she never allowed herself to with him. He just hated him. Yet the sliver of emotion he had felt as he had watched Angelus get sucked back through the portal had to be some indication that he still held some deeply seated emotion for the ponce—however small it may be.

It didn’t matter now though. He had rammed a sword though his grandsire’s gut and a stake through his princess’s heart. Spike shut his eyes and let his head fall back to face the ceiling as he let out a deep quavering breath. What the bloody hell was he meant to do now?

A small whimpering sound tickled the edge of his senses, so quiet he almost had to strain to hear it and he suddenly remembered he wasn’t alone. His gaze slid smoothly across to the crumpled form of the Slayer. The chit was in bad shape. Likely wouldn’t last the night without help. Her blood had fanned out from beneath her to form a crimson puddle of pain.

Slayer blood. Even now the smell was like no other, it called to him as the puddle steadily grew from beneath her inert form. He could hear her heart beat—slow and sluggish—straining with each beat to pump the life giving substance around her battered body only to force more out of the already gaping wound.

It was her fault he was alone now. She had proven to be nothing but a bleedin’ menace to his health and peace of mind ever since he had first laid eyes on her. Yet, she too was alone, exiled from her home and school and alienated from her friends as she had struggled to do what was right, and not what her romantic ideas bade her. Deep down she had to have known though, after all the things that had happened and all the things Angel had done that they would never be as they were.

The tragically poetic lovers—a vampire cursed with a soul to never again experience a moment of true happiness lest he turn into the monster that haunted his every waking moment and the Slayer, she who was chosen above all others to slay his kind. It was the sodding Anne Rice version of Romeo and Juliet all over again. They were doomed to fail from the beginning. A relationship like that could hardly have been healthy. Not like you were the star pupil for a healthy equally balanced relationship either, were you mate?

Without stopping to question what he was doing Spike pushed himself to his feet and walked over to her. As gently as he could he scooped her up into his arms, whispering soothing sounds at the moan of discomfort she gave as he jostled her body.

“It’s okay, pet. Spike’s got you,” he said as he slowly carried her through the halls of the mansion, bypassing the master bedroom and heading for the one that he had occupied. “I’m gonna fix you up, pet. You’ll be as good as new.”

He laid her out on the bed gently and made a quick inventory of her injuries. Nothing her Slayer healing couldn’t handle, it was the blood she was losing that was causing the most problems. She was losing it quicker than even her Slayer healing could replace it. A hospital was out of the question. Better that he just seal her wounds as quickly as possible and let the Slayer healing work its magic.

With no thought to her sense of modesty he grabbed her top and ripped it down the centre before peeling it away from her battered body. He paused for a moment to further asses the damage that had been done before moving to seal the wound most perilous to her health.

He dragged his tongue across the laceration that ran the length of her stomach. She moaned again as he lapped at the blood that was pooling until his saliva went to work at staunching the flow of blood. “Shh, pet, s’okay,” he mumbled as he systematically worked his way up her body, barely able to resist the call her blood had over his demon as it tried to force him to succumb to the bloodlust that was raging beneath the surface of his skin.

She was so close to the edge, he could just end it now—sate his demon’s hunger and move on with his life alone.

Alone. There was that word again.

A small growl escaped his lips but his eyes never once strayed from her form. She was the Slayer, but if he killed her then he would be truly alone and that wasn’t something he was ready to face yet. He didn’t know if he ever would; he was not a creature that thrived on solitude. He needed other people.

In a split decision he leant down over her neck and shifted into his demon’s guise before sliding his fangs effortlessly into her neck and taking a short pull of blood before releasing her again and sealing the wound.

“Mine,” he whispered though the volume of his voice would have done little to disturb her. A softly spoken ‘yours’ escaped her unconscious form on an exhaled breath and he felt the partial claim take root within, binding him to this creature before him.

Spike watched her for a moment unsure of what to do next. He had just claimed the Slayer. Of all the creatures in this world and the next he had claimed the Slayer, and he had done it without her permission.

Finally coming to a decision he reached down and undid her pants before sliding them down her legs leaving her clad in only her plain white bra and the scrap of material birds were passing for knickers these days. He groaned softly and took a moment to look at her. Even in her bruised and battered state she was beautiful.

Unable to control the urge, he ran his fingertips gently down the silky length of her leg coming to a rest just on her inner ankle bone. He paused for a moment, enthralled by the look of her tiny feet which deceivingly held so much power before gripping the bed covers that were bunched at the bottom of the bed and pulled them back up over the top of her, covering her body from his view.

Spike quickly discarded his own blood stained clothing and moved back to the side of the bed. Lifting the covers, he slipped in underneath and scooted his way over so he was lying beside Buffy. He gently pulled her body back into his until she was spooned against his chest. The heat that was emanating from her body quickly warmed his own skin as she unconsciously snuggled deeper in to his embrace as her heart beat began to lull him into a comfortable sleep.

The ache of loneliness that seemed to be ever present within his heart was eased somewhat by her quiet, subconscious acceptance. He would deal with the consequences of claiming the Slayer later; for now he was content to sleep with her body warming his own.


AN:So this is the new one, what do you guys think? I'm always nervous posting new fics, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to or not. I’ve actually been writing it for sometime, but only just made the decision to start posting it. I have a few chapters up my sleeve ready to post which I will gradually if this first chapter does ok. So review! :P Do you want more?

Thank you to Andrea for the beta! :D

- 1 -


Buffy woke as she had every other day for the past week—encased in Spike’s strong arms, her naked torso pressed tightly up against his, one arm wedged against her side and the other looped lightly around his neck. Though this time, for the first time since that fateful night, she could feel some of the strength that had long been absent returning to her limbs.

The screaming pain that she felt the first morning she had rejoined the world of the conscious had receded to a dull throbbing feeling in her lower abdomen and she could tell the minor wounds on her face and arms had long since healed over.

She lay still with her eyes closed as her hand that rested around his upper body absently stroked the curls that rested against the base of his neck. She would have been dead by now if it hadn’t been for Spike. Either Angelus would have finished her off if Spike hadn’t jumped in at the last minute, or she would have bled to death on the stone floor of the mansion.

It had been a week. A week that the world hadn’t been sucked into hell and not once had her friends or Watcher even been by to check the mansion to see if she might have been there, alive but injured as she had been. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where she would have been by now if Spike hadn’t helped her.

Yes, she had made some mistakes over the past months—sleeping with Angel not being the least of them—but they were her friends, and despite the mistakes she had made she still thought they would have cared enough to at least check on her. It wasn’t everyday that a girl’s first love turned into a homicidal maniac on her friends. For that she took complete responsibility, even without ever being able to possibly know what would happen. But still, it hurt…

Buffy watched her small hand slide down from around Spike’s neck to rest over his chest, her fingers lightly brushing his nipple. She smiled slightly when she felt his arms give her a small squeeze in his sleep as he unconsciously pulled her closer. She felt the erection she always seemed to wake up to brush against her stomach and the leg that always found its way between her own nudge her mound slightly, but he made no further move to bring them together sexually.

He had cared for her better in the last few days than anyone else had ever done in the past. She was his mortal enemy turned reluctant ally, yet rather than kill her as he had always boasted he would, he had saved her, cared for her and treated her like she mattered. She couldn’t help but feel the tiny swelling of her heart for him. In fact she couldn’t think of a place she would rather be than in his arms at that moment.

“I can hear you thinking,” his voice rumbled out softly, and she felt her lips tug into a soft smile that she could do nothing to prevent. Sighing contentedly, she nuzzled further into the comfort of his embrace.

“Did I wake you?” She asked in the same quiet tone, the warmth of her breath fanning across his neck.

“No.” Spike dropped a small lingering kiss to her forehead and she sighed heavily as the perfect contentment she felt forced her to think about what was waiting for her: friends that didn’t care, a mother who didn’t want her and a life as a teenager who had been kicked out of the only school that would accept her after she had been booted from Hemery. Such was the life of a Slayer it seemed.

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” Spike asked as his fingers gently trailed down the smooth curve of her cheek. Buffy’s brows furrowed as she thought about it. Spike pulled back slightly to look at her. “Slayer?”

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “I’m almost completely healed now.” She watched and waited to see how he would react, rolling her eyes when after a moment he just continued to stare at her. “I’m almost well enough to be able to go home—well not go home since my mother kicked me out, but well enough to get out of your hair at least. I guess… I just don’t want to leave here, is all.” Spike frowned and pulled her back towards him, contemplating telling her about the claim he had placed on her. It had been weighing heavily on him to tell her about it for the past week, but every time a moment presented itself he shied away, telling himself she wasn’t well enough to worry about that yet. She was well enough now, though. By the time he had come to a decision, however, and opened his mouth to tell her, the moment had passed and she was speaking again.

“I know. I’m just being silly, right?” She said offering him a small sheepish smile even though he couldn’t see her face. “It must be driving you mad having the Slayer stuck with you night and day.”

Spike lent down and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “Stay with me then,” he whispered into her hair, but knowing that she would still hear it. Buffy’s eyes went wide at the statement.

“Stay with you?” She repeated lamely, causing a small smile to tug at his lips. If only she knew how much he wanted her around, how much she dulled the ache of loneliness inside him and gave meaning to his life again.

Spike nodded. “Stay with me. We can live here. We’ll redo the place to our liking, buy some new furniture and torch the old.”

He was talking. She knew he was talking but she couldn’t seem to move past the fact that he wanted her to stay with him. “You’d want me to stay with you? To live here with you?” she asked with such innocence that he had to smile.

“You don’t want to?”

“No, I do! I just…you really mean that?” Buffy asked, trying to keep the insecurity she felt from coming through in her voice.

“Of course, gorgeous.” She looked at him. Her face was so close to his own, her lips a mere breath away so that he would only have to lean forward a fraction of a millimetre to kiss her. And God how he wanted to, but he knew she still felt for the Poof. She was still mourning for him somewhere inside her and wouldn’t welcome his advances.

He though about the lack of mourning he had done over Drusilla, how unaffected he truly was by her passing that he could already be thinking of moving on barely a week after her death at his hands. Could a century of devotion to one person really amount to so little? Had he ever really been in love with her in the first place if he could remain so unmoved? What did that say about his person?

Yet he knew he felt the beginnings of true affection for the slip of a girl that he held in his arms. The antithesis to everything that he was and for which he stood. As always with him, who and what she was didn’t matter when it came to matters of the heart. He had always been the one to disregard rules and conventions when it came to love, blind to everything but the devotion he felt. He vowed that this time if he ever grew to love her, he wouldn’t let his feelings force him to turn a blind eye to what was really going on. He wouldn’t let it grow to the obsession he had ended up feeling for Drusilla, to the point that he didn’t care who she slept with as long as it was him to whom she came home.

No, if he loved this girl he would make sure she knew damn well that it was all or nothing.

Buffy closed her eyes as he lent up and placed a kiss against her forehead. She had been so sure that he was about to kiss her just now. But instead he had bypassed her lips completely. She tried to hide the disappointment she felt over his rejection.

Buffy though about the years he had spent with Drusilla, loving and caring from her when it was clear from the vampiress’ actions in Sunnydale that she was willing to forget everything he had ever done for her in the face of her devotion to her maker.

The loss of the love of his life had to be near crippling. She had thought that the loss of Angel would break her, in reality though the thought caused her far less pain then she would have once believed. Angel had been her everything once upon a time, she would have denied her very existence if she though it would please him. Despite that, everything he had done as Angelus he had done with a smile while wearing the face of the man she had once loved. Did she really expect to be able to love him again in the all consuming way that she had before if he had had his soul returned though? No.

But, yes.

In some ways, no matter what he had done, he was Angel—the vampire who she had loved and who had loved her in return. Her first love. She suspected that she would always have a place in her heart for him—a place where she would keep the memories of their stolen moments together. But they could have never been together as they were. She couldn’t look at him with the same childish love in her eyes and pretend that what he had done didn’t matter. Angelus was always going to be a part of the Angel she knew. He was always going to look like the monster that tormented her, killed her friends and tried to end the world.

“And she’s gone again,” Spike teased her gently, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Sure it’s not dangerous you doing all that thinking, love? Your brain can’t be used to it.”

Buffy looked up into blue eyes that were glinting with amusement. Could they really make living side by side in the same house work? Sure, it was a large house, and they had already managed a week without killing each other, but she had been in bed for much of that time. She had no idea what he had been doing when he hadn’t been with her, for all she knew he could have been out snacking on Sunnydale’s populous. If they lived together, did he expect her to still let him hunt? She was still the Slayer and she still had a duty to protect the citizens of Sunnydale. She didn’t think he cared much about the other vamps and demons in the town, but what if he expected her to stop killing off his friends?

There were so many things to consider, and not just demony things. They had normal everyday domestic things like money and food to think about. How were they meant to pay for everything?

“We’ll figure things out, kitten. I can see the wheels turning in your head,” Spike assured her as he brushed her hair back out of her face.

“I can’t let you keep killing, you know that right?” She blurted out before she had time to feel scared about asking.

Spike stared at her.

“I’m the Slayer, Spike. You can’t honestly expect that just because we live together I will turn a blind eye to your eating habits?” Buffy asked seriously.

Spike frowned, “I have a rep to maintain, kitten. I can’t be seen out buying my blood from the sodding butchers!”

“I think living with the Slayer will shoot any reputation you might have had to hell anyway, the fact that you’re buying your blood won’t have a chance to do any damage.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Spike agreed. “But the fact that I have the Slayer living under my roof, seemingly under my control, is a power boost if anything. Buying my blood would imply that it’s you keeping me, not the other way around.”

“Under you control?” Buffy asked incredulously with growing anger.

“I said ‘seemingly’.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. If you refuse to stop killing then this isn’t going to work. I was stupid to have even thought it would to begin with,” Buffy said as she started to roll away from him and slip from underneath the covers of the bed.

“Slayer, stop,” Spike said as he reached out to grasp her arm. She shook him off and stood up, slipping on one of his black t-shirts in the process to hide her nudity.

“No, I don’t want that guilt on top of what I am already feeling. I may have slipped once, but I refuse to do it again. I’ll give you the chance to leave town now. I find you after and you’ve been feeding then I’ll dust you.” The hard light that had entered her eyes told him she was serious.

“Buffy,” he said sliding out of the bed as he stalked towards her, “you’re not even willing to try and work something else out? I don’t have to kill the people I bite! I don’t even have to hurt them! There are these places, like vampire whorehouses, I guess, where humans pay vamps to bite them. What if I found someone who liked it, who agreed to feed me a little bit of blood each day? I promise you, they wouldn’t even feel the effects of blood loss.”

Buffy frowned and looked away from his probing gaze. “I can’t let you bite other people, they probably don’t even realize how dangerous their addiction is. It’s my job to protect them, I just…I can’t.”

Worry creased his brow as he stepped forward and took her into his arms. “Slayer—”

“I can’t, Spike…” Buffy frowned as he turned his face away from her and began to lower his arms. She had seen the hurt that had flashed across his face and she felt its echo deep within her. Touching his face gently she turned him back to look at her, “but if I let you drink from me like that? Would that work? Could you take what you need from me instead of hunting?”

“You’ll let me feed from you?” Spike asked in disbelief.

“If it means that you will stop hunting?” Spike gave her a small nod. “Then, yes.”




AN: Wow! Just wow! You guys completely blew me away with your response to the prologue of this story! Thank you all so much for taking the time to review! *hugs you all tightly* I hope this chapter has lived up to your expectations and that you enjoyed it as much as the first.

A big thank you also to Andrea for beta’ing my stories for me. I doubt they would be readable without her input ;) So thanks.

- 2 -


Once the decision to live with Spike had been made, Buffy expected things to change. Life had certainly changed; she was no longer the naïve teenager forging a path to womanhood while struggling to balance the weight of her calling. Her experience in loving Angel had sufficiently ripped the rose coloured glasses from her immature eyes, in that respect. She had thought being called as the Slayer had opened her eyes to the horrors of the world and the things that went bump in the night, but is seemed that knowing what was out there was only half the battle. Angelus had been the first monster to truly touch her life; he had made the monsters she fought night after night real. Sleeping with him had seemed the next logical step in their relationship at the time, she had loved him and he had loved her, what possible reason could there be to wait? Since then it had become her biggest regret.

The experience had forced her to grow up and face the consequences of her actions, even when the result wasn’t intended to begin with. The fact was that together they had unleashed Angelus on the world and more people than just herself had had to pay the price. People like Jenny Calendar, her Watcher and countless victims Angelus had snacked on.

Life had certainly changed. Yet despite that, waking up next to Spike—as she was quickly becoming accustomed to—felt like second nature. They had effortlessly slipped into a routine together—his habits falling in synch with her own. It amazed Buffy how easily she had adapted to Spike’s constant presence in her life as both a friend and companion. Somehow, he had managed to wheedle his way into her life and heart so smoothly that she hadn’t realised that he had been doing it until he was already there. Now she wouldn’t have it any other way, she couldn’t imagine her life without Spike in it anymore.

His friendship was more intense than anything she had ever experienced in her young life. More so than even her short love affair with Angel. He brought a whole new level to the concept of friends. Spike didn’t expect her to be anything other than what she was. Not the perfect daughter, nor the perfect Slayer or friend. She was more than just Buffy and she was more than just the Slayer and he seemed to understand that better than anyone else had ever been able to before. Neither side was forced to come first—she was a whole, and the feeling of freedom it gave her was liberating.

Life had definitely changed, but the transition had been so smooth that she had felt no jarring as she settled into new routines.

“I tell you, pet, that bloody painter is taking his sweet time finishing off that room so he can charge us more on purpose,” Spike grumbled as he entered the kitchen.

Buffy grinned at him from her position on top of the newly installed marble countertop. “Yeah? How does that work?”

Spike gave her a pointed look as he opened the fridge and reached for the carton of orange juice. “Labour costs. They charge you by the hour for the time it takes them to complete the job. This bloke is trying to screw the system,” he said as he pushed himself effortlessly up onto the counter beside her and took a swig of the bright orange liquid straight from the carton.

“That is so gross.” Buffy wrinkled her nose at the carton in distaste.

“You don’t like orange juice?”

Buffy gave him a look and plucked the carton from his hands. “No, the juice I like, it’s the part where you’re drinking it straight from the carton that I have a problem with.”

Spike watched as she pulled out a glass from the cupboard and filled it up with orange juice before handing it back to him. He took it dutifully and began to sip from it as she replaced the carton in the fridge. “Bossy bint.”

“The guy laying the flooring is almost done,” Buffy said, ignoring his comment as she came to lean against the bench beside him. “The only rooms left are our room and the room your little painter friend is still working on.”

“Yeah? Well, at the rate he works, I’ll be an old man before he’s finished,” Spike grumbled as he swallowed the last of the orange juice and set the glass down beside him.

Buffy rolled her eyes as she picked up the glass and carried it over to the sink to wash it out. “You don’t age, stupid.”

“My point exactly,” he told her with a smug smile.

Buffy turned away from him with a smile, “What I was trying to get at,” she began with a good natured gleam in her eyes, “was, that once the floors and walls are finished, the only rooms left to be finished will the bathrooms, which means we can start buying furniture!”

“Oh, goody!” Spike replied sarcastically.

Buffy frowned and punched him in the arm, “Well if you like having nothing to sit on, then don’t bother!”

“I was joking, Slayer,” Spike said with a smile as he slipped off the counter and moved to pull her into his arms. “Buffy, the house looks wonderful. Seriously, even with just floorboards and carpet covering the old cement floors and fresh paint on the walls… it looks nothing like what it did when Angelus bought the place.”

Spike was right. The mansion had undergone a complete makeover in the few short weeks it had taken them to hire contractors to redo the place. The bedrooms had been carpeted, and the main rooms now had floorboards instead of the cold cement that had previously been there. They had chosen warm colours to paint the walls in, giving the mansion a warm glow which chased out the cold dark memories of the past. Buffy had even arranged for a shade sail to be to be put up over the small garden connecting to the main living room of the home to keep any direct sunlight from reaching both the garden or the living room. This allowed Spike to move about with a bit more freedom throughout the day.

Once the cobwebs had been cleared and the place cleaned up, it seemed like another place entirely from the one that had seen the downfall of her first love and her life before Acathla.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m a bad, rude man who is getting impatient with evil little painters. I most definitely want something to sit on,” Spike said as he pulled her firmly into the circle of his arms.

Buffy smiled and pulled back to look up at him. “You could always flash him a little bit of fang. See if that doesn’t hurry him up.”

“What’s this? The Slayer suggesting that I scare someone into hurrying up?” Spike teased. Buffy slapped his shoulder half-heartedly. Spike grinned down at her. “He’s part demon himself, pet. I doubt attempting to scare him is going to work at making him finish the job any faster.”

“Our painter is half demon?” Buffy asked as she poked her head around his shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of said demon. “How come I didn’t know this?”

“They all are. How do you think I got someone available to work for us so quickly? Technically I am the Master of Sunnydale now, pet.”

“Wow, so in that case, maybe I should go in there and scare him into finishing the job.”

Spike stared down at her in wonder of her easy acceptance of him. In all his life—both human and vampire—he had never been so completely or readily accepted by anyone, least of all by someone destined to kill his kind. He had expected Buffy to make some comment about his Master status, or at least question his motives, but like everything else she had taken it in stride. He had tried for days to try and rationalise the ease with which she had agreed to allow him to feed from her. Like she had said, she was the Slayer and as the Slayer, nature had created him her natural enemy. So it didn’t make sense that she would so readily offer up her own neck.

It would have been easy to file her more astounding reactions away in the box he had created in the back of his mind, labelled with a big red stamp reading *claim*, but the fact was the claim he had placed on her was only a partial claim. It did nothing more than bind them together in the most basic of senses. It wasn’t like a mating claim, which allowed the couple to share thoughts and feelings and sometimes more—it was far less intimate. Vampires had been known to place partial claims on a number of individuals. If anything, it was a strengthening of the bonds of family and friendship. Buffy’s trust was completely non-manufactured, and the thought that anyone could trust him like that made his heart swell with warmth for this tiny slip of a girl.

Already he could feel his affection for her growing and mutating into something more powerful and overwhelming than simple attraction. He was falling for the Slayer, and he was falling hard. She was a light for him at the end of a long tunnel of darkness. Drusilla, as much as he had loved her to begin with, had kept him in that darkness. She’d seduced him with her feminine wiles and he had been none the wiser the whole time she had been manipulating him. His lack of reaction to her death had called into question the love he had felt for her. Had it all been one of her mind tricks? Had he really loved her so desperately? Or had his sire been keeping him in line the only way she knew how? He had seen her coerce many a victim into believing something other than what was right there in front of them. It was possible he had been just another victim in her games.

Either way, he had never known how much he had craved the light because she had him so convinced that it was the darkness he loved. Although he wouldn’t change anything that had happened in the past for the world, would he have been able to appreciate Buffy’s light if he hadn’t spent so long emersed in Drusilla’s inky darkness? Possibly, but it was not a question he was willing to risk learning the answer to. Everything that had happened in the past had shaped him into who he was now, it had moulded the decisions he had made and guided him to this moment.

Perhaps if he hadn’t spent so long worshiping his Dark Princess, her death wouldn’t have been the breath of fresh air it was after years of constant stress and trickery. Perhaps then he would have turned around and killed the Slayer, rather than nursing her back to health only to embark on a new life at her side. Of course the darkness he had lived in for over a century still held its allure, but for the first time in as long as he could remember he was truly content with his life. He was happy where he was and tricks or not, he had only Dru to thank for getting him to where he was now.

And now Buffy was keyed up about going furniture shopping with him—proof that she was as excited about this as he was, and here he was shooting her down with sarcastic comments over his irritation with one slow working demon. He was completely insane.

Dropping his hands from her waist, Spike’s hand found Buffy’s. “Run and get your things ready, pet. If we’re going to go furniture shopping we better get moving before the shops close.”

“Now?” Buffy asked as her head whipped up to look at his face.

“Yeah now. We’ve go some rooms completed right? We might as well be spending our time doing something useful.”

Spike couldn’t hold back his own smile as a delighted grin broke out across her face. He barely had time to hold his arms out so he could catch her before she had launched herself into his arms. An elated laugh escaped her lips as she clutched him tightly.

“I’ll be two seconds, I promise,” she said as she removed herself from his arms and bounded up the stairs.

Spike rolled his eyes and smiled as he walked off to have a chat with their painter. There was no way in hell that she’d take anything less than half an hour to get ready.





AN: As always, a massive thanks to Andrea for the beta and to everyone who reviewed so far :D Comments? Feedback? Still enjoying it?

- 3 -


Buffy was happy—really happy. She was happy like she hadn’t been since before she had been called as the Slayer, which was insane really, especially since she was effectively making a home with a vampire who had been trying to kill her for months before the final battle with Angel and Drusilla. Yet despite that and everything else that had happened recently, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face or her body from bopping to the music Spike had blaring from their new sound system in the next room as she pranced around what would be their new living room once the furniture they had ordered was delivered.

Buffy let out a sigh of contentment as she looked around the room. It would be exactly what she had always imagined she would want her home to be. Open and spacious, yet still warm and inviting and the furniture they had chosen was simple and comfortable, rather than works of art you weren’t sure if you could sit on. Everything was clean and modern, but with a Tuscan feel to it, the colours keeping it from looking plain.

Buffy began to hum along brightly to the music as she turned to look at the samples of curtain material they had chosen. She tilted her head to the side as she held them up to the freshly painted walls trying to match the best colour. She needed something that would not only look good, but also keep enough sunlight out so Spike could frequent the room during the day. At the same time, she didn’t want to make the room too dark by choosing a colour that completely obliterated the light altogether. Biting her lip unconsciously, she switched the samples around trying to get a feel for how they would look once they were up.

“What do you think?” She asked suddenly, without turning away from the sample.

The quiet demon who was fixing the glass in the living room doors that led out to the small courtyard startled at being addressed by the Slayer. “Sorry?” he asked unsurely.

Buffy turned to face him with a friendly smile. “I asked which colour you think suits the walls best?” she repeated as she held out the samples so he could see them. “I want something dark enough to keep out the sun without completely darkening the room. I was thinking this one, what do you think?”

“This so Spike can walk around during the day?” the demon asked. Buffy nodded.

The demon frowned as he contemplated the oddity of the situation for a moment. The Slayer asking a demon for an opinion on which curtains he thought likely to best protect her vampire companion from dusting. “I’d probably go with the cream. It’s dark enough, plus it’s a neutral colour so it’s more likely to match everything else in the room.”

Buffy looked down at the cream coloured sample in her hands before holding it up to the walls again. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Thanks,” she said with a smile.

“No problem. It’s Clem, by the way,” Clem replied with his own frightening version of a smile.

“Buffy,” Buffy returned, cheerfully unperturbed by his show of teeth.

Clem nodded. “I know, you’re the Slayer,” he said as he watched her flit around the room in a deliriously happy state. It was an odd sight to witness.

“You know,” he slowly began, unsure whether he was crossing some invisible line, “there is this glass you can get now which is vamp safe. Spike could walk around with the curtains open and not get fried to a crisp. It’s pretty expensive, but if you’re interested I could cut you a pretty good deal and install it for you. That way you wouldn’t have to worry about which curtains you put in, right?”

Buffy turned to face the baggy skinned demon completely. “What do you mean vamp safe glass? Are you sure it works?”

Clem nodded. “I’ve seen the stuff in action. It looks like normal glass but it has a coating over it that protects vamps from the sunlight during the day.”

Buffy chewed on her lip as she thought of Spike being able to stand in the sunlight, even if it was behind protective glass. She could just imagine what he would look like standing in the sunlight again. When had he last had the chance to feel the warmth of the sun on his face? Plus it would mean they could have the curtains open during the day, which would keep the house warmer, seeing as the whole structure was made from stone.

Buffy frowned contemplatively. “How much are we talking? It sounds expensive.”

“It is,” Clem agreed. “But I’ll do the whole house for a grand if I get the added bonus that if we ever cross paths again after this, I get your word that you won’t slay first and ask questions later,” Clem said holding out his hand.

“One thousand? For the whole house?” She clarified. Clem nodded. “As long as you’re not attacking or killing an innocent being at the time, then you’ve got yourself a deal,” Buffy said as she clasped his hand in her own and shook firmly.

Buffy looked back down at the curtain samples in her hands again. “Well in that case, I think I like the one with the gold trim along the bottom better. What do you think?”

“It looks great, pet” Spike said as he entered the room. He nodded in Clem’s direction as he crossed to Buffy’s side.

“So you like it then?” She said holding the pattern out to him.

“I told you, pet, it looks wonderful,” he said, returning her bright smile.

“Well it’s your house too, I want you to feel comfortable in it,” Buffy said truthfully. After all, she’s just agreed to pay a demon an extra grand so that Spike could walk around in his own home without having to worry about danger from the sun.

Spike smiled at her. “I will, I promise.”

“How is the bathroom coming along?” Buffy said as she extracted herself and moved to set the samples down, separating her chosen pattern from the rest.

“Not bad,” Spike replied as he watched her sort through colours and patterns. “I recon it will be done in a day or two. The plumber is finished and the last of the tiles are being laid. They’ll take a few days to dry, but once that’s done then it will be ready for use.”

“Oh, yes! No more sneaking into smelly school locker rooms to shower,” she breathed with a sigh of relief.

Spike chuckled. “Smelly to say the least.”

Everything about her had him absolutely smitten. From the way her nose scrunched as she talked about having to shower in her school locker rooms, down to her near incessant nesting since they had had started work on the mansion or the cute way she had tied her hair back in a head scarf to keep it off her face while she worked. They had gone clothes shopping, while they had been out shopping for furniture and she had taken delight in dragging him from store to store in search of the necessities she should need in so far as clothes since she wasn’t going to be going home to pick her old clothes up. In the end, they’d practically purchased a whole new wardrobe, including the tiny denim shorts she was currently wearing and the plain white tank top that clung loosely to her figure.

“The very least,” she said as she straightened up again. She smiled brightly at Spike who still stood staring at her. “Anybody home in there?”

Spike smiled and slipped an arm around her waist. “I came in to tell you I’d ordered Chinese for dinner. You hungry?”

“Ravenous,” she replied as her stomach seemed to growl on cue. “What did you get?” she asked as they made their way out to the kitchen where he had laid their food out along the counter top.

“A bit of everything; I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he said as he pulled out a pair of wooden chopsticks and unsnapped them.

“You know how to eat with those things?” Buffy asked as she lifted a piece of sweet and sour pork into her mouth. He moaned as the flavour seemed to explode in her mouth. “Yummy.”

Spike smirked at her indulgently. “They’re easy to use once you know how. I spent some time in China over the years and seemed to pick up the talent pretty quickly.”

Buffy nodded as she bounced around the counter to pull out a fork and dig into the fried rice. “You know I never asked how come you still eat human food. I can’t say for certain since Angel didn’t like to eat in front of me, but I don’t think he ever ate human food aside from a coffee now and then.”

Spike snorted. “I like the taste is all. It tastes different to when you’re a human, but the taste is still there. Angelus was all about being the respectable vampire and respectable vampires didn’t eat a diet that included human food.”

“But vampires do usually?” Buffy continued.

Spike shrugged. “Some I guess, but I’ve always been a little bit different. Probably due to the fact that my sire was a few sheep short of a flock.”

Buffy went quiet at the mention of Drusilla. It had been a few weeks since their demise, and Spike rarely talked about her. She didn’t know how to react when he mentioned Drusilla’s name, but it made something inside her coil up tightly as if ready to strike. If she thought about it rationally, she’d say it was jealousy, but then she had no right to be jealous of Dru. She had no claim over Spike. They were friends, nothing more. Not to mention the fact that it was stupid being jealous over someone who was dead.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said finally as she kept her gaze firmly trained on her meal. “You know what, I’m kind of tired and the furniture is arriving in the morning. I might head off to bed and get an early night.”

Spike frowned at her sudden change in mood. “Yeah, okay, pet. Are you all right?”

Buffy looked up at him with big eyes. “Me? Yeah, of course. I’m just feeling tired all of a sudden. Did you need some blood before I go?”

Spike shook his head. “I’ll be alright until tomorrow.”

“Okay, then. Night,” she said as Spike watched her turn and practically run from the room. He was contemplating going after her and finding out what was wrong when the demon that had been working in the same room as Buffy walked into the kitchen.

“Trouble with the Slayer?” Clem asked.

Spike sighed and pushed himself up onto the counter top. “Who knows. She was fine one minute and gone the next. You finished?”

Clem nodded. “I’m done for the night. I’ll be back again tomorrow morning to look things over once more.”

“Alright,” Spike said as picked at the left over food on the counter, ignoring the demon standing before him.

“She cares for you, you know,” Clem said eventually. “It wasn’t so much the colour of the curtains she was concerned with earlier, but whether they’d provide enough protection for you. Doesn’t matter now though, she wants me to install Necroglass throughout the place so you can walk around during the day without going up in flames.”

“Necroglass?” Spike asked in confusion.

Clem nodded. “It’s special stuff. Like normal glass but it protects guys like you from burning into a crisp during the day. It’ll save you from having to draw the curtains all day long too. Anyway, I’ll see you folks again tomorrow,” Clem said as he nodded to the blonde vampire sitting stunned on the counter top and made his way out of the mansion.

Spike barely noticed the demon leave. His thoughts were with the petite Slayer who was sleeping peacefully in their bed somewhere above him. He was indescribably touched at the knowledge that she cared enough to want to protect him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been protected by anyone.

Absently, he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and put the left overs from their meal in the fridge, before swiftly making his way up the stairs. He could tell she was sleeping when he entered the bedroom from her deep even breaths so he stripped quietly and slipped into the bed behind her, moving close enough to wrap his arm around her middle. He drifted to sleep happy, with the familiar feel of the heat from her body warming his own.


AN: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Thanks to Slackerace for the beta, as always. My work would be a nightmare without you to tidy it up :D. And thank you to everyone who has commented so far *hugs you all*

- 4 -


Buffy woke with the feeling of Spike’s arms wrapped around her middle, and his body pressed tightly against hers. She felt her heart flutter with the thrill that she always felt waking up this way—wrapped securely in the curve of Spike’s arms with his scent surrounding her. She lay there for a moment, her eyes stubbornly kept shut while she soaked up the contentment she felt before reality intruded and the feeling faded, leaving her with the heavy feeling she had gone to bed with the night before. She knew it was jealousy, and she hated herself for feeling it, but Drusilla had been his one and only for the past century and over the past few weeks her own feelings for Spike had been making themselves more than obvious to her. Buffy cared for him—deeply—and it stung to know that he was still in love with Drusilla.

She didn’t expect Spike to just forget about his sire; it was absurd to think that his feelings for Drusilla had died the same moment he drove a stake through her heart, nor did she expect him to be able to get over Drusilla as quickly as she had gotten over her love for Angel. Buffy had been afforded several months to come to terms with the death of her relationship with Angel, Spike had only had weeks. Buffy knew that, she accepted it even, but it didn’t stop the hurt she felt each time Spike brought his sire into the conversation and effectively—albeit unknowingly—reminded her that he had been in love with his sire.

Buffy slowly opened her eyes to stare blankly at the wall across from her; she didn’t want to think about Drusilla anymore, but the vampire refused to be erased from her thoughts. Sighing, she gently extracted herself from Spike’s arms, her body clock telling her it was roughly seven o’clock in the morning and she would need to be up soon anyway. She left Spike alone in the bed, the thin sheet haphazardly pulled up over his body, as she quickly dressed and left the room.

The house was quiet for once as Buffy made her way down the newly carpeted stairs. Despite her dampened mood, she couldn’t help the happy sigh that escaped her as she looked around her home—finally finished, and free of the workmen that had inhabited for the last few weeks. He’d never done this with Drusilla. They’d never settled down together in one place and made it home, Buffy couldn’t help but think with a small amount of smug satisfaction. As stupid as she felt for getting jealous over a dead vampire, she couldn’t stamp the feeling down. She felt possessive over Spike, as if he belonged to her in someway and the thought of Drusilla touching him was almost more than she could bear.

Unworthy. Drusilla was unworthy of calling herself his lover, when for over a century she had used him as little more than a sex toy and a minion to cater to her every whim only to turn around and throw it back in his face when Angelus reappeared on the scene. Spike deserved so much more. Buffy knew how deeply he could feel things, and she knew that his love for his sire had been no small thing.

Buffy didn’t—just couldn’t—understand what it had been about that woman that could so completely enthrall both Spike and Angel. Yes, Drusilla had not been without her beauty—tall, dark, willowy and mysterious, a seductively dangerous combination—but it was more than just an appreciation of her looks that had held them. Buffy couldn’t believe that their devotion to her had been solely on based on her gothic beauty. The only thing she knew for sure was if being like Drusilla was what it took to gain Spike’s attention, she would never be anything more to him than a friend. She couldn’t be.

Buffy sighed heavily as she made her way to the kitchen. She would only depress herself if she kept thinking about Drusilla and Spike. It was amazing how quickly her feelings for him had grown. That Buffy could be so deeply jealous of Drusilla after only a little over a month and half of living with the blond vampire was telling, not even Angel had evoked that strength of emotion from within her. Spike had pushed his way into her heart and taken hold of her, and she felt helpless to stop her descent.

Just the sight of him would send a burst of tingles racing over her skin. He excited her, left her breathless and feeling like she was freefalling with no end in sight, and she was left helpless to do anything but pick up the pieces of the mess to which he could effortlessly reduce her. Buffy couldn’t say that she was in love with him, not yet, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was well on her way to the real thing. And if this was the precursor to loving Spike, then what she had had with Angel didn’t deserve the title of love. It held little more than a spark to the fire that was raging within her, and that thought frightened her. Losing Angel to Angelus had been horrific; she knew she wouldn’t remain standing through Spike’s rejection if it came.

Buffy swallowed tightly. Already she could feel a knot of worry and dread forming in her stomach. Spike was a vampire and she was the Slayer—she couldn’t help but feel she was setting herself up to be crushed under the downfall.

I’ve got to be the worst Slayer in history, she mused to herself as she made her way into their kitchen and started to go through the motions of reheating leftovers from the night before for breakfast. One vampire was bad enough. I just had to fall for two.


~::~


Spike stared at the empty spot in the bed beside him. He had awoken not long ago after reaching out to draw Buffy’s warmth back into his side, instead encountering sheets that had long since turned cold from her absence. Disappointment had flooded his stomach as he had opened his eyes to confirm what his mind already knew. He knew he was being stupid, and more than likely overly sentimental, but since the first night he had crawled into bed beside her, there hadn’t been a morning when he hadn’t woken up to her—usually still held snugly within his arms.

His whole being felt icy from the lack of her presence at his side and her heat to warm him and suddenly it was of the utmost importance that he found her. She had gone to bed upset over something the night before, and the thought that it might have something to do with him worried him. Spike rolled from the bed easily and quickly pulled on his jeans from the night before, hurrying from the room barefoot and bare-chested to find her.

Spike could hear her long before he saw her, ordering around the men who had come to deliver their furniture.

“Just put that down over there for now, thanks. I can move it around to where I want it later,” he heard her ask politely as he reached the bottom of their stairs.

“Are you sure, miss? It’s pretty heavy. I don’t mind hanging around a bit longer if you wanted some help,” was the reply. Spike clenched his teeth, the tone of the man’s voice was silky smooth, so much so that was it was more than obvious he was flirting with his Slayer.

Buffy giggled and Spike’s insides constricted. She was responding to that wanker’s advances.

“That’s okay. I already have someone who is more than capable of helping me. Thank you, though,” he heard the Slayer reply brightly, and something inside him relaxed marginally.

That’s my girl. Tell him to go jump, Spike thought to himself even as he became aware of the fact that he was standing outside the door eavesdropping on their conversation like some pathetic loser.

“Does this someone happen to be your boyfriend?” the unknown male asked again.

Spike bit back a growl as he stepped into the room. He had heard more than enough from this wanker.

“Morning, pet,” Spike said silkily, effectively ripping her attention away from the other man. Buffy spun around at the sound of his voice. A bright smile lit up her face as her gaze landed on him and she quickly made her way over to him.

“Look! Our furniture is here!” she said excitedly as she reached his side.

Spike smiled back at her affectionately and drew her into his arms, “I can see that. It looks fantastic, kitten,” he replied sincerely even as he glared over his girl’s head at the wanker who was still standing stupidly by the couch. Buffy returned his embrace easily and Spike’s glare turned into a smirk in the other man’s direction, knowing that he had the human beat when it came to the Slayer.

Buffy pulled back and looked up at him happily. “It will, once we’ve positioned it all. I didn’t want to move anything around until you got here.”

“Well I’m here now. What’s say we get started while these other blokes bring the rest of it in, yeah?” Spike said, nodding absently in the human’s direction.

Buffy nodded quickly in agreement giving him a quick squeeze around the waist before letting him go. Spike smiled down at her, glad to see that the tensions and sadness that had appeared so suddenly the night before had almost completely vanished in the face of the excitement she was feeling of getting their new furniture. Yet as she moved away from him, he could still see remnants of it clinging to her every movement.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to manage?” The deliveryman asked again as Buffy made her way over to one end of the couch he had helped bring in.

“We’ll more than manage, mate,” Spike replied coolly, taking up his position opposite the Slayer. “You ready, love?”

Buffy nodded and together the hoisted the couch up and into their arms.

“Holy shit,” the human whispered as he watched the ease with which the two super beings lifted what he and his partner had struggled to.

“Excuse me,” Buffy called, gaining his attention. The man looked up at her with wide eyes. “Do you think you could move? You’re kind of in the way.”

“Oh, um…sure,” he said, taking more than a couple of steps backwards. “I’ll just go help the others.”

“You do that,” Spike added with a smug grin as he watched the wanker scurry from the room. Buffy felt her lips quirk in amusement, as she watched the man leave from the corner of her eye.

“You know you could have at least put a shirt on before you came down,” she said with a smile as together she and Spike manoeuvred the couch into the position the wanted it and gently lowered it to the floor.

“I was in a hurry to find you, pet. Was wondering where you had got to,” Spike replied cautiously, his senses attuned to her for any reaction to the comment. He was testing the waters he had been wary of broaching until now. With Angel’s death still so fresh, he hadn’t wanted to push her away by embarking on something he didn’t know whether she was ready for. Perhaps now was the time. While she had refused the human’s advances earlier, she hadn’t reacted adversely to them, and that knowledge gave Spike the confidence he needed to know that maybe she was ready to move on. If he waited too long and someone else came along, he would never forgive himself.

Buffy felt her throat constrict and her heart miss a beat and prayed to God that Spike hadn’t picked up on it. He had been in a hurry to find her. Buffy couldn’t prevent the swell of emotion she felt in her chest. He had missed her, or at least it would seem he had.

Against her will Buffy felt her cheeks flush pink.

“I, um…I got up early so I would be ready when our furniture arrived,” she managed to get out finally as she tried to swallow around the tight feeling in her throat.

“You should have woken me up, pet,” Spike replied, as his mind raced to piece together the significance of the skip and slight increase in her heart rate. Perhaps it was possible Angel wasn’t as close to the forefront of her heart as he had assumed.

“I wanted to let you sleep. I thought you might be tired having to keep daylight hours and all,” she lied, knowing that the she had just wanted to avoid facing Spike for as long as possible that morning. She knew he would have questions about what had happened the night before, and she didn’t have any answers for him. She had never been a fan of awkward confrontations, so instead she had let him sleep.

Spike moved around the couch till he was standing in front of her. “Thank you,” he replied sincerely. He knew she was lying to him, but he also knew that she wouldn’t take well to being forced into a confession, so instead he pulled her into his arms and placed a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

Buffy melted into his embrace, her heart in her throat and pounding out a rhythm for the world to hear. There was something different about his embrace—more intimate. She knew that something had just happened between them—something had shifted. She just didn’t know what that something was.




AN: Thank you Andrea for the beta and to everyone who left a comment on the last chapter *hugs*. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter :D

On a side note, this will be the last update I post for a while as I have end of year exams and assessments coming up at uni. I'm not going to promise anything, but if i can find the time, I'll try and have another chapter ready for posting by next week.

- 5 -


Spike let a growl bubble to the surface as he paced. He was frustrated, he was angry and above all he was bloody well confused. For the life of him he didn't understand women. He'd been around for almost a century and a half and what little knowledge he'd amounted concerning the opposite sex seemed to make a swift exist whenever he had to deal with one. It explained why things with Drusilla had gotten so fucked up. It explained why things with Buffy weren't playing out the way he'd imagined or planned.

Running an irritated hand through his hair, Spike stalked into the kitchen, opened up the fridge and took out the orange juice. He didn't understand the bint. He thought things had changed after the other day—hell, he'd swear to anyone who asked that he felt them change. He'd been ready to make his move, gently nudge things along, then she'd gone and thrown a bloody spanner in the works and he didn't know where he stood.

Scowling furiously at the carton of juice before him, he decided to forgo the glass and swig straight from the container. At a time like this, Spike would've preferred bourbon, or perhaps a good whiskey, but orange juice was all they had and despite it all he'd developed a taste for it. Buffy'd skin him alive if she came home and found him drinking straight from the carton again, but he found he didn't particularly care. In fact, pissing Buffy off sounded like the best bloody idea he'd had all night right at that moment. He didn’t care that it was irrational and childish.

Smirking to himself, Spike stalked into the living room and flopped down onto the sofa, swinging his booted feet up to land comfortably on a cushion at the other end. Lifting the carton to his lips he took a hefty swallow smacking his lips loudly in satisfaction. Lets just see how you react when you come home and find me like this, Spike smiled smugly. After all it only seemed fair that if he was irritated and pissed off, then she should be too.

He couldn't believe that he read the situation so wrong. The way her heart beat had picked up, pounding away so furiously in her chest, the gentle flush that had stained her cheeks, the way she'd melted into his arms... He'd taken them as signs that perhaps she felt something for him, something more than simple friendship. Had he really read her so badly? Or had he seen and felt what he wanted to rather than what was there?

No. She hadn't pulled away from his embrace, or stiffened as the gentle kiss he'd pressed into her hair, she'd welcomed it. She'd gripped him just the little bit tighter, her hands splayed out across the expanse of his back almost possessively. They'd been pressed together so tightly—so intimately—it couldn't have all been wishful thinking.

Things had felt so clear in that moment, and for once, without a word being spoken, he'd felt like he knew exactly where he stood. So of course it followed that she'd have to go and complicate things, and the worst of it was that he couldn't really blame her for it. Not really, not when she had no idea she'd even done anything wrong. One simple word whispered into the night as she dreamt away beside Spike and his certainty had crumpled around him.

Angel. Bloody fucking Angel. And not in a scared or uncertain voice either. It had come out like a prayer, like a whispered promise of something more, like a lover. Spike had frozen, unsure what to do or whether to do anything. Suddenly it felt wrong to be holding her so intimately when she was dreaming of some other bloke. His insecurities raged to the forefront of his mind. It felt like Drusilla all over again, dreaming of her daddy and making do with Spike. He hadn't slept a wink, holding Buffy till day break and then feigning sleep when she stirred. He didn’t want another Drusilla. He didn’t want to devote himself to someone he couldn’t have—to someone who wasn’t willing to give him everything and take everything he was in return. If Spike didn’t believe Buffy was worth it, he'd say to hell with this masochistic merry-go-round he seemed to be stuck on. He was sick of falling in love with Angel's birds and coming up second best, the bloody great poof was dead and Spike was still losing out to him. He couldn’t help but feel that he was setting himself up for one hell of a fall.

The creak of the front door opening told him Buffy was home, and instinctively he sat up, his feet sliding from the couch and onto the floor. Bloody whipped, I am.

"Spike?"

Despite himself, he felt his stomach flip wildly as she made her way into the room. She looked tired and sweaty, her hair was a mess and she still had a streak of dirt across her cheek from patrol. God she was beautiful.

He was tired of this, tired of waiting and pussyfooting around the issue. It was a torture of the worst kind and he’d damn near had enough. Only he hadn’t, not yet, and he doubted he ever would. He cursed his tendency to love so deeply; what had it gotten him so far aside from a truck load of heartache?

"Spike!" She exclaimed, her face crumpling into a frown at the sight of the orange juice dangling loosely in his grasp.

He ignored her. The orange juice found its home on the table before him and he was in front of her in two strides, "Buffy."

His hands cupped her face, tilting it up towards his own and his lips claimed hers. He felt shock course through her: she stiffened briefly in his arms, her heart skipping a beat as tremors passed through her frame before slamming back into existence at almost triple the speed of her normal heart rate. And she was right there along with him, kissing him back, her hands on his face and in his hair holding them together.

Buffy’s lips were soft and pliant under his as Spike’s hands slid down her back to settle on her waist. She responded eagerly as his tongue slid into her mouth, her moan reverberating through his entire being. His hands tightened on her hips, his fingertips sinking into the soft flesh.

“Do you want this?” he asked pulling back only enough to speak, his forehead pressed against hers. It was ridiculous; he had no need to breathe yet he was feeling breathless. Buffy forced reactions out of him, she made him feel almost human and Spike had the feeling that if he let himself, he could become addicted to how she made him feel.

“What?” she asked, her own voice breathless and panting.

“Do you want this? Do you want us?” He repeated, pulling back again so he could look at her and gauge the honesty in her answer.

Buffy looked up at him, her eyes clear and certain, “Yes. Yes, I want this.”

“Not just because you can’t have Angel?” Spike hated himself for asking, but he needed to hear it. He saw a light of understanding in her eyes, and for a split second wondered whether the same ghosts had been haunting her, too.

“No, not because I can’t have Angel,” Buffy said softly, “Because I want you.”

Spike stared at her seriously for a moment letting her answer sink in: ‘because she wanted him’. It was an almost novel idea, but he believed her—he had to. He was not so insecure as to second guess something when it was handed to him on a silver platter. She was telling the truth—yet the thought was staggering.

Finally a slow smile began to work its way across his face. “It’s about damn time, pet.”

A rush of tingles broke out across Buffy’s skin as Spike’s free hand came up to gently cup her face again, lifting her chin so her mouth was in perfect line with his. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and she smiled as she realised that the sound of it was more than likely filling his senses and betraying how excited she was.

“You have no idea what you do to me, kitten,” his said softly as though he’d known exactly what she was thinking and was responding in kind, baring that little bit of himself for her that she couldn’t reach as he did.

His voice was no more than a rumble against her skin and it sent a wave of excitement racing down her spine. They kissed again and she lost herself to the sensation. A slow heat began to pool in her belly and she pressed herself against him tightly, revelling in the feel of his hard body against hers. A breathy sigh escaped her as his lips strayed down to her neck to suck gently on the junction of her neck and shoulder, his blunt human teeth scraping lightly across the taut skin.

This was what she wanted. This is what had filled her every waking thought for the past few weeks, driving her to distraction and tying her emotions up in knots...

She tensed unexpectedly as his hand slowly started to creep into her pants. Spike’s hand froze on the button of her jeans and he pulled away confused at her suddenly hesitancy.

“Kitten?”

Buffy blushed brilliantly and looked away, “Sorry. I, um...I’ve never really...”

She looked up at him her eyes pleading with him to fill in the gaps as she trailed off not knowing how to voice what she was trying to say, or if she even wanted to. It was embarrassing freezing up like that, especially now when they were finally getting somewhere. After all, she’d done far worse—she’d had sex, hadn’t she? But then that’s all it had been—just sex. Angel hadn’t touched her much beforehand, just enough to know that she was ready and again towards the end to make sure she followed him over the edge.

The thought of Spike touching her made her inexplicably shy. It wasn’t that she didn’t want his touch, or was afraid of it, the thought made her nervous though in ways that were somewhat unexpected. It was just so intimate—so personal—like nothing she’d done with anyone else and it had a huge embarrassment factor linked to it should something go wrong.

Spike frowned, “Never? I thought you and Peaches...?”

She shook her head unable to meet his gaze. “Angel and I never really fooled around like that. It was just the once, when he lost his soul and even then he didn’t really...”

Spike was silent and she was almost afraid to find out what he might be thinking. Would he still want this? Want her? She swallowed thickly and looked up at him. He had a shocked and oddly smug expression plastered across his face and she didn’t know how to respond to it.

He smiled down at her when he noticed her attention and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, “It’s alright, love. Not your fault that Peaches doesn’t know how to look after his women. We’ll take things nice and slow, yeah?”

Buffy nodded and offered him a small smile in return. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made the right decision in telling him. The mood they’d been creating together was ripped to shreds and all she was left with was a lingering sense of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she moaned, letting her head fall against his shoulder, concealing her face from his view. His arms automatically slid around her in an embrace.

“I kind of ruined things, didn’t I?” she continued.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you told me. We’ll take things one step at a time. I’m a patient man when it counts and I can wait until you’re ready,” Spike said before a smirk took over his face. “In fact, I like that it’ll be me who introduces you to these things, Pet. I like knowing that no man besides Peaches has been there before me.”

Buffy felt her cheeks heat up again as he wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, but her body’s reaction to his words betrayed her. Spike smirked as her arousal began to perfume the air around them.

“Come on,” Spike said, taking pity on her embarrassment. “Let’s make us some dinner, shall we?”

Buffy took the hand he offered and allowed him to lead her into the kitchen. She couldn’t fight the pleased smile that made its way onto her face despite everything. The heaviness she’d been carrying in her heart was gone and instead her stomach seemed to have grown wings. The smile grew as Spike lifted their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles tenderly.

“What do you feel like having for dinner, love?”

- 6 -


Giles had been angry for so long. Realization was a slap in the face, waking him up from months of sleepwalking through life with his anger wrapped around him like a shroud. The guilt was oppressive, damn near suffocating him with its completeness.

Joyce Summers was on his doorstep in tears. Buffy was missing—she’d been missing for months.

Dread prickled over him uncomfortably. He suffered the feeling.

How had he let it come to this? It had been months! Somehow the days had turned to weeks and weeks had slipped effortlessly into months before his very eyes and he’d done nothing. Had his judgment really been clouded so badly? He had privately carried around his anger at his Slayer for months over Angelus and Jenny’s subsequent death. He’d been angry over the fact she’d lowered herself to sleep with a demon, thereby endangering them all and costing Jenny her life. She’d been so reckless—so selfish!

So he’d turned around and left his Slayer to take on the threat of Acathla, Angelus, Drusilla, and possibly even Spike alone. Although he could admit to himself that he had some reservations about including the last in his Slayer’s list of opponents and not just because the blond was supposedly wheelchair bound. It had been Xander that had whisked him to safety, but the ropes that had once been tight enough to severely restrict blood flow to his hands and feet had been loosened to the point where a good tug was all that it had taken to free him. Giles suspected he had Spike to thank for that, whatever the vampire’s incentive had been.

How did a grown man act so childishly? He’d essentially played tit for tat with her life...maybe that was the real reason Slayers died so young.

But it was easy to look past your own mistakes and judge others, especially when that ‘other’ was the Slayer. She had done it. The world was here to see another day and the news had come like the first ray of sunshine after months of darkness even despite the fact Buffy had been yet to show. Could he blame her? Buffy had suffered judgment from all of them. They’d put on her on a pedestal twenty foot high and then glared at her if she even wobbled.

Shame burnt through Giles hotly.

Had he left her there to die?

No. Not dead. If she were dead he would have heard from the council like he had last time. That didn’t mean she was alright though. Giles had sent Xander back briefly the next morning to be sure things were over, the boy reporting that the mansion had been empty and aside from a few puddles of drying blood nothing had changed—Acathla had still been dormant. So where was his Slayer? When Buffy hadn’t shown up after the battle he had only assumed that her absence was due to fatigue and a need for some time alone to process everything. After that his anger had taken over once more.

“Mrs Summers,” Giles said as he reached out and grabbed her shoulders gently.
His Slayer’s mother was near hysterical. She had called Hank to no avail. She had sent out word to both the Sunnydale and Los Angeles Police that her daughter, Buffy Summers, was missing from home. Now she was here standing on his doorstep, because apparently Buffy was a Vampire Slayer and he was her Watcher.

“Joyce, calm down. Come inside and we’ll talk.”

Giles was shocked to notice his hands were shaking as he guided Joyce Summers into his home.

“Do you know where Buffy is? Have you heard from her?” Joyce asked frantically.

Giles shook his head and pushed her down gently to sit on his couch and went to pour them both a drink.

“This is all my fault,” she moaned pitifully. “I never should have spoken to her like that. I was just shocked—upset—I didn’t know how to react.”

Giles pressed a glass into her hands quietly. “Tell me what happened. When was the last time you saw her?”

“It was a couple of months ago,” Joyce began haltingly. “Is it true? Is Buffy really a...a Vampire Slayer?”

Joyce spoke like she didn’t believe what she was saying. Giles didn’t blame her. “She is. The best I’ve ever seen.”

Joyce nodded. “I didn’t believe her. It was the night the police accused her of killing that girl in the school library. I was out looking for her, I was so worried—worried that she was hurt or in trouble, worried that she’d fallen into a bad crowd again.”

Giles nodded for her to continue. “Go on.”

“When I got home she was just arriving, walking up the front path like nothing was wrong with this man I’d never seen. He was clearly older than her and all dressed in leather with bleached hair and black polish on his nails. Not the kind of man a mother wants to find her daughter with. My suspicion only grew when she tried to start lying to me—she said they were in a band together.” She laughed bitterly.

Giles tried to hide his shock. Was this woman describing Spike to him? Surely not, the vampire was supposedly cripple for one, and he didn’t believe for a second that his Slayer would align herself with another vampire after the mess of Angelus. Giles felt a familiar anger spark in his chest, but he pushed it down ruthlessly and tried to focus on what Joyce was saying.

“I was so angry with her,” Joyce continued. “I was about ready to give her a piece of my mind when this person jumped out at us from nowhere. His face...it was like those kids on Parent Teacher Night a few months ago, the ones on PCP? Buffy didn’t even flinch, she pushed him towards the man she’d arrive with who started beating him up while she calmly pulled out a wooden stake of all things and stabbed him in the chest with it. I barely had time to think before he just...exploded.”

Giles was silent as he let her collect herself and continue the story. She looked frazzled, and he realised suddenly that she must have been playing this moment over and over in her mind the last few months trying to rationalise what she’d seen. He’d seen it before. She was trying so desperately to hang onto her ignorance, to continue living in denial. Monsters didn’t make sense to everyday people.

“I was horrified,” she said quietly—tiredly. “In my mind everything the police had told me had just been confirmed. My daughter was a killer. After all, she’d just killed a man in front of my very own eyes! I thought she was lying to me again when she told me she was a Vampire Slayer and the man she’d just killed was a vampire. Truthfully, I don’t remember much else after that I was in a daze of disbelief. Although I do remember after the blond man left we fought. I told her I wanted to call the police, explain everything so that they’d believe it wasn’t her who’d killed that girl. She yelled something about having to save the world and I told her if she walked out the door not to even think about coming back. She left. I haven’t seen her since.”

“It’s not your fault, Joyce,” Giles said after a beat. If anyone is to blame, it’s me, he added silently.

Joyce looked at him with dead eyes. “Really?”


~::~


This was new—this contentment that was washing over Buffy. She sighed happily as she relaxed back further into Spike. His arms were around her, holding her loosely to his chest as his fingertips traced lazy patterns up and down her forearm absently. She couldn’t remember a time with Angel when they had just been content to sit with no need for words. Sure the television was on in the background, but Buffy knew neither she nor Spike had been focused on it for the last half an hour or more. Had she ever done that with Angel? Did it even matter if she had? She hated that she was constantly comparing the two of them—Angel and Spike. There were polar opposites in everything. Yet her relationship with Angel was the only thing she had to compare her relationship with Spike to, and even then her relationship with Spike was so different—so easy. Everything with Angel had been hard, dark and tragic. But Spike?

Buffy sighed.

Her relationship with Spike was what you didn’t know you dreamt of when you were a little girl. It wasn’t a fairytale—believing in those only brought more heartache and disappointment—but it was light, it was happy, it was easy. Loving Spike took no effort. Yes, he was a vampire, so what? They could work around it. They were willing to work around it. Yes, Spike had done horrible things in the past, but there was nothing she could do about it now. As long as he wasn’t killing in the present then it wasn’t an issue. Yes, Spike was way older than her, but it didn’t matter because he treated her like an equal, not a little girl.

Buffy wondered at her easy acceptance over everything that had happened. Was it odd that she was taking everything in her stride?

Buffy frowned. She didn’t feel any different, just happier—more carefree. Here she didn’t feel like it was her sacred duty to carry the whole world on her shoulders. She chose to patrol each night because she had the power to protect people who knew nothing about the nasties that walked the streets at night, not because she was bound by some sacred calling. Spike got that, and while he never patrolled with her, he never stopped her going or called her out when she left late or came home early. Truth was, as Master of Sunnydale Spike pretty much had the Hellmouth under control. Few demons had stepped out of line since Angelus’ reign had been over thrown.

Buffy smiled as the hand that had been tracing patterns across her arm trailed upwards to tilt her head back. She melted into the kiss, her train of thought instantly derailing to centre wholly on the lips that were attached to her own.

She loved Spike’s affectionate side. He was always touching her now that he knew he could. Whether it was just the gentle rest of a hand to the small of her back, or a quick stroke of her hair or a more obvious arm around her waist as he pulled her flush against him, she loved it. It was moments like these that she began to realise just how much they had been functioning more as a couple the past few months than as two friends living together. The thought made her smile.

Spike returned the smile as he shifted them on the couch, pulling her atop of him. Buffy moaned as she realised she could feel his hardness pressing into her abdomen, but didn’t move away from it despite the blush that stained her cheeks. Spike growled gently and she moved against him, pushing her little hips into his. His hands shot up to steady her hips, guiding the motion.

“Buffy.”

His lips trailed their way down her neck to suck gently at a small patch of skin on the side of her throat and Buffy tilted her head in invitation, wordlessly giving him permission. She shivered as she felt his tongue immediately trail a slow path up the column of her throat. Spike smiled against her skin, morphed and bit down.

The moment his teeth slid into her, Buffy felt a flood of wetness soak her underwear. Her hands clenched tightly in his hair as ecstasy washed over her. Buffy bit down on her bottom lip and this time she did nothing to hold back the moan that threatened to escape as she’d done in the past. It was a heady feeling, being bitten. The feel of cool teeth sliding effortlessly through her flesh, the slight burn as they broke her skin and then the light headedness that followed as Spike pulled mouthfuls of her blood into his mouth. He was always gentle, careful to make sure his bite brought only pleasure and not the pain she had experienced at the teeth of the Master, and as a result she always wished he would continue for longer than he ever did. She could see how some people could become addicted to being bitten, and how dangerous that addiction was. It would only be too easy to let the creature at their neck drain them. They wouldn’t feel a thing until it was too late.

Buffy groaned as Spike canted his hips upwards, and she instinctively ground down against him. Spike moaned around her neck as a bright spark of pleasure flashed through him. He pulled away and sealed the wounds at her throat with a practiced ease. Buffy whimpered at the loss, shocking herself with how needy she’d sounded.

“Kitten,” Spike breathed into her neck as he quickly flipped their positions, “My beautiful girl.”

“Spike...” she trailed off as he came to rest in the cradle of her hips gently, “please?”

The skirt she’d put on that morning was bunched around her waist, falling back to expose her legs to his view. Spike’s hands trailed over her skin in a rough caress, his fingertips sinking into the flesh of her thighs. It was a question, a request to go further and she answered him by tightening her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Her lips found his at the same time his fingers found the seam of her underpants. A jolt of nervous excitement raced through her as the flimsy material was pushed to one side and cool air hit her overheated flesh suddenly, causing goosebumps to break out across her skin. Why hadn’t she wanted to do this again?

She let out a guttural moan as his fingers traced the lips of her quim. “Spike.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he breathed as blunt human teeth scraped across the mark he’d left on her neck.

Spike circled her opening slowly as she moaned and panted underneath his touch. Her hips were thrusting into his hand gently in an unconscious effort to increase contact. Finally he took pity on her, sinking one long finger into her depths and moaning as her heat surrounded him.

“So bloody warm,” Spike moaned as he quickly added a second finger and began pumping them in and out of her slowly. Her reply was an unintelligible moan which quickly turned into a shriek as he crooked his fingers and pressed against something inside her that nearly made her see stars.

“More,” she demanded when he seemed only content to tease her. Spike complied picking up the pace.

She could feel herself skating closer and closer to the edge. It was building within her slowly making her whimper and moan and press her hips up harder into Spike’s hand in a fashion that would probably embarrass her at any other time. She was so close, her muscles were fluttering wildly in a promise that when she went over the edge it would be like nothing she’d ever experienced.

“You’re almost there, Kitten,” Spike encourage heatedly as his thumb reached up rubbing back and forth across her clit rapidly. The effect was instantaneous, her legs which had fallen open snapped closed around his waist and her inner muscles clamped down around him.

Buffy’s grip on his hair was bordering on painful, but he didn’t call her on it. Instead the pain seemed to add to the moment, grounding him even as she fell apart beneath his touch. He watched as she slowly came back to herself, relaxing back into the couch and staring up at him with sated, sleepy looking eyes that were brimming with happiness.

Spike could feel his heart expanding rapidly to fill his chest.

“Wow,” Buffy giggled softly after a moment. Spike smiled down at her.

“Wow,” he agreed. In that moment the near painful hard-on straining against his pants didn’t even matter. His girl was amazing.

- 7 -


Buffy moaned out her pleasure gratefully as she stepped under the spray of the shower. The hot water pounded out against her skin slowly turning her skin a rosy pink as it cascaded down the length of her body easing the ache from her tired muscles. She rolled her head gently from side to side as she tried to loosen her stiff neck muscles before slowly rotating her shoulders letting the gentle motion of her limbs and heat of the water relax her sore muscles.

For months, her patrol had entailed little more than staking a couple of wayward vamps here and there as she made a few quick sweeps of the town. Spike tended to have things well in hand as the Master of Sunnydale, and few demons stepped out of line, happy with the system he ran. Running into a small group of Fyarl demons who were new to town hadn’t been part of the plan. If nothing else, they certainly knew how to pack a punch; her whole body felt like one big bruise. Her skin was already turning a lovely mottled shade of purple in places where bruises had begun to form. It didn’t matter that by morning they’d have mostly disappeared, everything ached now.

Not everything about getting her arsed kicked had been bad though, she thought idly. A stupid grin broke out across her face as she remembered Spike’s reaction when she’d hobbled in through the front door that night. Some of his demon buddies were over for a night of kitten poker—an event that seemed to be fast becoming a weekly tradition—yet, Spike had practically upended the table in his haste to check on her. It had taken him a moment to realise that all the blood he could smell on her wasn’t fresh, but rather the blood that was slowly collecting under the surface of her skin to form the array of bruises that littered her body. She hadn’t realised that a vampire’s sense of smell was quite so strong. He’d drawn her in close, his relief palpable in his embrace, uncaring as his demon buddies had chuckled away in the background.

Buffy sighed happily as she remembered the way he kissed her gently and sent her upstairs to shower and change while he said goodbye to his friends. She could easily grow accustomed to this—this almost overwhelming sense of belonging. It was more than just a feeling of being part of something bigger; it was simply an understanding that all that she was, was Spike’s. She belonged to him, just as he belonged to her. It was a heady experience. One she was enjoying every minute of.

Quickly going through the motions of washing her hair, she shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. The bathroom was filled with billowing clouds of steam, but even so she shivered mildly as the air outside of the shower hit her skin. She reached for one of their big fluffy towels and quickly towelled off the excess water before wrapping it around her torso as she made for the door.

Spike was lounged across their bed waiting for her. The smile on her face grew impossibly larger as she saw him. In front of him, small black and tabby kittens—his winnings from the game that night—playfully pounced and pawed one another on their bedspread, Spike’s hand lost somewhere between them, encouraging their playful wrestling.

“Enjoy your shower, pet?”

Buffy hummed out her agreement contentedly as his eye rose to meet her gaze.

Spike smiled as he easily rolled from the bed, sending the kittens scurrying to the floor as he made his way across the room to her. His hands on her face were gentle as he traced the bruise that had bloomed across her cheekbone. It wasn’t as obvious as the others on her body, but for some reason it hurt twice as bad.

“You sure you’re okay, pet?” He asked again, now that they were alone.

Buffy nodded. “I’m fine. Just a little bruised in places.”

“Who was it?” Spike pressed. The intensity of his gaze making something bubble up inside of her happily.

“No one major,” she responded easily. “I’ve been getting lazy with nothing to kill but a few vamps here and there lately. These guys were new to town.”

“Vamps?” Spike asked, brushing her damp hair back from her face.

Buffy shook her head. “No, Fyarl demons. Four of them.”

Spike nodded, his fingers still toying with her hair absently.

“We start training. Tomorrow,” Spike stated firmly. “Want to make sure you’re not slipping in your old age, pet.”

Buffy whacked him on the arm lightly and pouted. “I’m not old! And I’m not slipping! I’ve never had to kill four Fyarl’s before. I’d forgotten how strong they were.”

Spike smirked down at her.

“You’re almost eighteen, kitten. That’s getting old for a Slayer,” he teased lightly.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Says the century old vampire.”

Spike tugged her towards him gently with a chuckle, his arms twining around her waist easily as he gazed down at her with affection. His hands ran soothing strokes up and down the sides of her torso.

“I guess I’m just a dirty old man then,” he leered at her, his hand sneaking up under the edge of her towel, gliding over the swell of her buttocks.

Buffy snickered. “Yes, and I’m a twisted, twisted individual for letting you touch me. Shame on us!” She said in mock reproach.

Spike grinned, swooping down to draw Buffy into a quick kiss. He moaned as she latched on to his lower lip with her teeth, biting down on it gently as he tried to pull back. Buffy smiled in pleasure, drawing his head back down to hers as he relented. The soft, languid press of his lips against hers felt sinful, sending shivers of delight down her spine. Buffy felt herself melt into his embrace, a contented sigh leaving her lips involuntarily as the kiss ended.

“God, I love you, kitten…”

The happy haze around her broke suddenly and Buffy froze, the whispered words reverberating against her skin: I love you.

I love you.

What? Had Spike really just said that? She felt Spike stiffen against her in shock at the words that had just tumbled from his mouth. His forehead pressed against hers and his unsteady breath fanning her lips. Oh my God. Spike loved her.

Buffy felt her heart leap wildly.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, her voice nothing more than a breathy exhale, but she knew Spike had heard. Drawing back, she smiled up at him. Spike was gazing down at her in amazement. The look of awe that was plastered across his face, one she would never forget.

The mood between them had shifted quickly, and Spike let his hand fall out from beneath her towel as he gripped her around her waist firmly, drawing her body into his tightly. Buffy buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent as the moment washed over them. She pressed a soft kiss against the skin she found there. Spike loved her.

“God, love,” Spike whispered thickly, then his lips were on hers. The position was awkward—not a breath of air between them, her neck craned sideways so she could reach his lips—but she didn’t care. It was perfect. They were stumbling backwards blindly in the direction of the bed, her towel discarded to the floor as Spike’s clothing disappeared from his body piece by piece.

Their coupling was rushed, a desperate need urging them on. Buffy cried out as Spike filled her, sliding home for the first time and stretching her virtually untried walls almost painfully. She gritted her teeth against the first few strokes, waiting for the pain to recede and take a backseat to the pleasure she knew would come.

Buffy cried out as her climax slammed down around her, the delicious ache that had been building slowly bursting over her before she was ready for it. Crying out, she clutched Spike against her tightly, her legs locked tightly around his waist as he followed her over the edge.

“Oh my God,” Buffy sighed breathlessly as Spike rolled off to one side, pulling her into his arms as he went. Spike was panting heavily beside her, the breaths unnecessary yet seemingly natural.

She smiled tiredly as she felt him press a soft kiss to the top of her head and give her a gentle squeeze.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up right?” Buffy asked quietly, not lifting her head to look him in the eyes.

“Always, love.”


~::~


Giles didn’t know where to begin. Where to start in their search for his missing Slayer? He could call the Council, of course, but that would mean admitting to the fact that he had no idea where she was in the first place. The fact that he’d let months go by, without even an attempt at contact with his charge, and all because of a grudge. He felt the guilt rise up inside of him again but he ruthlessly pushed it aside. He would deal with his guilt later. The Council, though, was out of the question. At best he’d be removed from his post, at worst Buffy would be labelled a rogue Slayer. Neither was a viable outcome. He’d heard stories of what the Council did to rogue Slayers. It made him sick to even think about it, let alone in relation to Buffy.

Force of habit had Giles whipping his glasses from his face and polishing them furiously as he tried to drown out the sound of the children all talking over the top of one another. This meeting was going nowhere fast and Joyce looked like she was getting closer and closer to breaking point by the minute.

“Maybe she and Angel ran off together?” Willow suggested finally.

Xander snorted indelicately. Mentally, Giles echoed his response.

“I sincerely doubt it,” Giles he responded irritably. “Buffy wouldn’t be so stupid as to fall straight back into a relationship with a man who has spent the better part of the last few months tormenting her and trying to kill her. Not to mention the countless others he no doubt murdered during that time. The notion is absurd.”

“But what if he was Angel again?” Willow pushed. “I did the spell, after all, and the orb did that glow thing and disappeared. That means it worked, right?”

“And if it did? Angelus and Angel are the same person on a fundamental level. Even with a soul, Angel is still a demon,” Giles snapped, losing the battle he’d been fighting with his patience. “If Angelus didn’t teach Buffy her lesson, I don’t know what will. I seriously doubt she would be so phenomenally stupid as to become involved with a vampire ever again—soul or no, they’re nothing but animals.”

Willow shrank back in the face of the librarian’s anger. It was a rare occasion that the Watcher truly lost his temper with them, but it had already occurred twice in the last few days. Willow didn’t know whether he was angrier at her and Xander or himself, but lately he seemed to be constantly walking the thin line between worried and furious and they were all walking on tiptoes around him.

“Rupert!” Joyce scolded, looking between the redhead and her teacher.

Giles sighed.

“I’m sorry, Willow. I haven’t been sleeping well,” Giles offered by way of explanation letting the anger drain out of him—or at least attempting to.

Willow nodded meekly. “Ah…It’s o-okay.”

Oz took up her hand supportively and Willow smiled gratefully at him, thankful for his quiet presence beside her.

A stilted silence settled over the group and Giles sighed heavily knowing he was the cause of it. Tensions were already running high, yet try as he might he couldn’t find the patience needed to care. Usually he found Willow the least annoying of Buffy’s friends, but her naïve questions were all rubbing him the wrong way. The idea of Buffy running off with Angel, after everything that had happened, after everything that bastard had done to them—to him, to Jenny!—made his blood boil, but despite his scathing retort to the contrary, Giles couldn’t help but silently wonder if that wasn’t exactly what had occurred. He’d spent so much time preaching a black and white world view, he wondered if it hadn’t backfired on him. Demons were evil soulless beings, Angel the exception because he had a soul—a conscience. Who had he been kidding? Angel’s ‘conscience’ had been so secure that all it had taken was a moment of happiness for it to be dislodged.

“We need to go over what we know,” Joyce stated firmly, interrupting his train of thought, and for her sake he pushed his dark ponderings aside.

“Well, we know she’s not hiding out at Angel’s old place,” Xander put in, “There was a layer of dust in there that could just about take on a life of its own.”

“Can we say ‘Ew!’? That place was disgusting; I can’t believe Angel even still owns it!” Cordy muttered in disgust.

“Are you kidding? What’s not to love about concrete walls and sparse furnishings?” Xander retorted sarcastically.

“Oz and I checked out the Mansion, but it was all pretty quiet and we think it has new tenants so we didn’t go in,” Willow continued. “Someone’s done some work on the garden, and Oz said he saw a furniture delivery van out front when he drove by a couple of weeks ago.”

“All human,” Oz confirmed. “It was midday.”

“Yes, well none of the motels or hotels in Sunnydale have anyone staying there matching her description,” Giles finished. “Not to mention her lack of funds. If she were staying anywhere in Sunnydale she’d need a job to support herself. We would have found her by now.”

“I refuse to believe my daughter ran away from home,” Joyce choked out. “Even if I did tell her she wasn’t welcome…”

“What about Willie’s?” Xander offered, changing the subject before they could travel down the path of self-loathing and guilt the two adults seem to be indulging themselves in. “Could we go see if there is any news from the demon network that we can try and beat out of him? If so, I wholeheartedly volunteer my services.”

Giles looked at the boy appraisingly. “The demon world has kept tabs on her in the past. I suppose there is a possibility that they may be able to shed some light on the situation—”

“Not to mention the complete lack of vamps around?” Xander cut in abruptly.

“It’s possible that the lack of demon activity can be attributed to the fall of Angelus. Dead or not, he is no longer the Master of Sunnydale, and if you remember, there was a lull in demon activity after the Master’s downfall, too,” Giles explained briefly.

“Wasn’t that because they were planning to resurrect him, though? You don’t think things are so quiet because they’re planning something horrible, do you?” Willow asked quietly.

“Let us hope not. Though, perhaps Willie can provide us with some more definitive answers,” Giles sighed heavily.

“Couldn’t the lack of demons just be a sign that Buffy is still in Sunnydale?” Joyce queried hopefully.

“Or maybe they left because she’s not here anymore!” Cordy put in perkily.

Giles nodded thoughtfully, ignoring Cordelia’s remark entirely, “It’s possible. Although, if she is, it begs the question as to where she is staying, or why she hasn’t contacted us…”

- 8 -


Buffy woke with a smile on her face. She was warm and sated, her body impossibly relaxed and pain free. Well, relatively pain free, she thought to herself with an odd feeling of pride filling her chest. Her injuries from the previous evening had all but faded away, but there was still a delicious kind of ache between her legs that whispered to her of the things she and Spike had done the night before. It was nothing she couldn’t handle—more of an uncomfortable stretched feeling than anything, and certainly far less painful than what she’d felt the morning after she awoken from her night with Angel.

Sighing happily, Buffy curled herself further into the strong arms that were holding her. Yes, things had been infinitely better this time around.

Hooking one of her legs over Spike’s, Buffy watched his chest rise and fall with each unnecessary breath that he took. She loved that he’d only breathe like that when she was beside him, as though even in sleep his body was somehow attuned to hers. The minute she left his side the slow even breaths would come to a gradual stop and he’d wake soon after to see where she’d disappeared to. Just thinking about it made her smile with contentment. He was so in tuned to her—so very aware of her presence. She had to wonder how it had taken her so long to recognise his feelings for her. Even as a friend, Spike was twice the boyfriend Angel had been.

Buffy ran a hand through the soft curls of his hair, and leant over him to place a soft lingering kiss to the bare skin of his chest. Even in his sleep, he gave her a gentle squeeze in response. Who would have imagined she could ever be this happy with Spike? It was the last thing she’d ever foreseen happening when she first met him that night out behind the Bronze, and she seriously doubted the thought would have even entered Spike’s mind, not with Drusilla still filling his every waking moment.

As if compelled by the thought alone, Buffy stretched upwards placing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, unconsciously possessive, even against a memory. Spike growled appreciatively, waking up enough to slide his arm around her more securely and turn onto his side.

“Morning, Kitten,” He mumbled, placing a sleepy kiss to the top of her head.

Buffy smiled, deliriously happy and content with the moment.

“Morning,” she replied.

Spike’s hand stroked down her side territorially, curling around her hip to rub small soothing circles into her flesh. Buffy closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hands against her skin and the softness of his lips against her neck. She parted her lips as he trailed kisses up her neck, accepting the slow languid kiss he greeted her with.

“S’nice,” Spike mumbled as his body began to wake up a little more.

“Mmm,” Buffy agreed, reaching out to pull her vampire’s lips back down towards hers.

Their lips never parted as Spike rolled her onto her back slowly, her legs falling open naturally to welcome him into the cradle of her hips. He entered her slowly, allowing her time to adjust to his length after their enthusiasm from the night before.

Spike brushed her hair back from her face and smiled down at her tenderly. “Alright, Love?”

Buffy nodded her response, smiling back at him as they started up a languorous pace, moving against one another slowly, allowing the sensations of their lovemaking to wash over them in rich, delicious waves.

Spike felt his climax building and looked down at the beautiful creature stretched out beneath him—her golden hair splayed out across their pillows, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, breath heavy… She was a goddess—his golden goddess. When he fell over the edge, he wanted to make sure she fell with him.

Her eyes flickered open as she sensed his gaze on her, and he found himself caught in emerald pools of emotion.

Love.

It was shining vibrantly back at him, and he could scarcely believe all that emotion was for him. The morning light only made things more real, when the frantic urgency of the night before had faded. He’d wanted her affection, yes, but deep down he hadn’t believed he’d get it. Over a century of falling just short of the mark, it was a surreal feeling knowing he’d finally made it. The weight of responsibility settled onto his shoulders unlike ever before. The knowledge that this time, for the first time, he had to protect more than his own heart made him tremble with happiness.

Spike buried his head in her neck and inhaled the scent of her skin, further embedding it into his memory as he fought to reign in his emotions.

Buffy clung to him as they both fell over the edge, her fingers sinking into the flesh of his shoulders and her legs gripped tightly around his waist, holding their bodies flush against one another.

Spike basked in the moment, no words necessary to convey the emotion flowing between them. Lying there with her as they slowly came back to themselves, Spike sent a silent thank you to Drusilla for turning him over a century ago and allowing him this moment. He’d finally made it home.


~::~


Taking a steadying breath, Xander reached a searching hand into his pocket to reassuringly touch the stake he had concealed there.

“You ready?” Oz asked in his usual manner, looking across at the taller teen as he seemingly went through the motions of preparing himself for battle. Oz couldn’t help but wonder what Xander expected to find inside the rundown demon bar. It was mid afternoon and the sun was still burning brightly in the sky. Even those demons that weren’t strictly nocturnal tended to stay underground until after dark in Sunnydale. The likelihood of them running into anything inside Willie’s, besides Willie, was almost nonexistent.

Xander nodded, and started forward. Oz followed a pace or two behind him letting Xander take the limelight he so desperately craved.

Xander slammed through the front door with a dramatic flourish sending the door crashing into the wall behind it. The bar was silent, and it took a moment for the teen’s eyes to adjust before he realised that the bar was completely deserted.

“No one’s here!”

“Let’s check out back,” Oz suggested, fighting down the amused smirk that threatened to erupt at the note of relief he’d heard in Xander’s voice.

The taller teen nodded, his stance more relaxed now that he knew he wasn’t about to be jumped at any moment.

The two teens made their way through the bar and into the small backroom. The doorknob turned easily and Xander couldn’t help but whistle lowly at the state of the small room as the door swung in on itself. Half the room was covered wall to wall in green slime, a rickety looking poker table was upended in one corner and a thin layer of ashes seemed to cover most of the floor. Someone had certainly had fun last night.

The small greasy looking man inside jumped at their sudden intrusion and spun around to face them, his hands going up in defence before he had fully registered who was standing before him. Xander couldn’t help but feel insulted at the sigh of relief the bartender gave when he realised who was standing in front of him.

“What are you kids doing in here?” Willie asked quickly, glancing over their shoulders nervously. “Don’t serve minors. Anyway, the bar doesn’t open till six.”

“Some demons have a little disagreement?” Xander asked, gesturing to the mess.

Willie looked at him sideways. “What do you want, kid?”

“Information,” Xander stated, stepping forward in what he hoped was an intimidating gesture.

Willie offered shrugged and went back to cleaning up the backroom. “Oh yeah? Not sure I can help. Don’t know much of nothing.”

“We want information on the Slayer,” Xander continued. “Anything you might have heard from the demons you get through here.”

“The Slayer?” Willie repeated as though the title was foreign to him. “Sorry. Got nothing.”

Xander snapped his hand out and grabbed the front of the bartender’s shirt. “Nice try, Greasy. What do you know?”

Willie laughed. “If you think you’re scarier than some vamp with a mouth full of pointy teeth, you’ve got another thing coming. I told you. I got nothing.”

Xander’s fist connected with Willie’s jaw sending a shockwave of pain back up the teen’s arm.

“Ouch! Oh my God, that hurt!” Xander moaned, shaking his hand out. “Shit!”

Oz rolled his eyes and stepped forward. “Listen, anything can tell us might earn you a few extra bucks on the side, you know?”

Willie eyed him with interest. “How much we talking?”

“Depends on what you’ve got to say,” the werewolf shot back. Xander looked across at the teen in confusion. They had money?

Willie pushed Xander’s hands off him, and brushed himself off. “I guess I might know a thing or two. Might even be willing to share for the right price.”

Oz pulled a fifty out of his pocket and held it up.

Willie eyed the cash greedily. “Slayer’s been a hot topic lately. Been shaking things up, she has.”

“How?” Xander cut in.

Willie clammed up and raised his eyebrows pointedly. Oz pulled out another fifty.

“Word is that she’s shacked up somewhere in Sunnydale recovering from her fight with Angelus,” Willie told them easily. “Some claim she had help of the demon variety, but I don’t buy it, not after Angelus went homicidal on her.”

“Anyone seen her around lately?” Oz asked, pulling out another fifty when Willie didn’t respond immediately.

“No one who’s telling. The demon community’s being kept on a tight leash though,” Willie responded as the money appeared.

“Any leads on where she’s staying?” Oz continued, pulling out another fifty without question.

Willie shook his head. “None.”

“Oh, come on!” Xander exclaimed when no more information was forth coming. “That answer wasn’t worth a fifty!”

Willie shrugged. “You asked, I answered. Could have offered less.”

“So basically, you think she’s in Sunnydale, but as far as you know no one has seen her and you have no idea where she could be staying?” Xander clarified.

Willie nodded.

“Great, so we’ve just blown two-hundred dollars to find out that she might be in Sunnydale! We already knew that!” Xander exploded. “Someone has been out slaying thought, right? You said that someone was keeping the demon population under control.”

Willie stared at him blankly.

“What?” Xander asked irritably, “You’re not getting anymore money; the last fifty so covers this question!”

The bartended didn’t budge.

Oz pulled out another fifty.

“I said they were being kept on a tight leash,” Willie corrected.

A beat of silence passed between them.

“That better not be it, or I swear I’ll beat you over the head with that broken chair in the corner of the room,” Xander threatened when it looked like the bartender had nothing else to say.

Willie glared at him. “The new Master of Sunnydale has put a control on local hunting and feeding.”

“Who’s the new Master?” Xander pushed.

Willie raised his eyebrows pointedly again. Xander sighed and looked across at Oz.

“Sorry, dude, I’m out of cash,” the werewolf said, shrugging apologetically.

“In that case, I can’t remember anything else,” Willie said, holding his hand out for the cash.

“Answer the last question and it’s yours,” Oz said, holding the cash back.

“Hey! I answered your questions fair and square,” Willie argued, making a grab for the money.

Xander used his added height to push the bartender back down. “And if you want your reward, you’ll answer the question.”

Willie sighed. “Spike. Once Angelus died, the claim reverted to the previous Master.”

“Great.”


~::~


It was the moments like these that Spike had fallen in love with, moments where they just were. Where the rest of the world felt like it was light years away and all that existed here on earth was the two of them. It was moments like these that he had never been able to have with Dru, who had been a whirlwind of motion, constantly moving and never able to remain still for more than a minute. That constant motion had been fun, it had been exciting and the danger had been intoxicating enough to keep him happy for over a century, but nothing—nothing—he had ever experienced in all his years of existence had ever been so addictive as the stillness he could experience with Buffy.

It was more than just being able to experience a peaceful moment together, and it was more than just being comfortable in one another’s silence. It was moments like these where they could lie there together, weak from a day spent lovemaking, and understand one another without a single word needing to be spoken.

She was spooned against him, her back pressed tightly against his chest exactly the way she had been when they had awoken almost an hour before. They hadn’t said anything, they hadn’t needed to. Instead she had just smiled gently, content to remain in his arms and laze away the afternoon as the sun crept its way across the sky.

Buffy sighed contentedly as Spike’s larger, slightly calloused hand traced the skin of her arm idly, his fingertips sliding upwards and over the curve of her shoulder before making their descent down her back to curl around her waist. Spike smiled down at her as a small sigh escaped her lips.

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” Buffy replied with a grin. “You?”

“I already ate,” he reminded her, his fingertips dipping to brush against the bite mark on her inner thigh.

Buffy moaned in remembrance and hooked her leg up over his hip to allow him better access.

“Come on. I’ll make you something,” Spike offered as he began to sit up.

“I don’t want to move,” Buffy complained, pulling him back down against her.

Spike grinned. “You have to eat.”

“Later,” She agreed.

Spike chuckled as her stomach protested loudly.

“Come on, Kitten,” he coaxed as he sat up again, this time pulling her up with him.

“Will you make me scrambled eggs?” She asked as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind.

“Anything you like, love,” he replied. “As long as I know how to make it.”

Buffy laughed. “I guess I’m lucky you’re a good cook then.”

“Too right,” Spike teased. “You’d starve without me.”

“So scrambled eggs?” She prodded.

“Scrambled eggs it is,” he agreed, slipping his jeans on as he got up from the bed. Buffy slipped off the mattress behind him and picked up his discarded shirt, slipping it over her head easily. She had to roll the sleeves up so her hands were visible under the cuff, but the sight of her in his clothing had him harder than a rock and wanting to take her straight back to bed. He’d always wondered what it would look like to see a lover dressed in his clothing. Drusilla had never indulged in that little pastime; the act had held too much intimacy.

Growling, he pulled her into him roughly, mashing their lips together with fervour.

“You look amazing.”

Buffy looked at him like he was mad. “I’ve got bed hair and I smell…”

“Of sex. Of us,” Spike agreed. “There isn’t a better smell in the world. I can smell myself all over you.”

“That’s…actually kind of hot,” Buffy replied breathlessly.

Spike shook himself. “Food first.”

Buffy grinned. “You’re determined to feed me.”

“Damn right I am,” Spike agreed. “I look after what’s mine.”

Buffy smiled up at him, stepping into the circle of his arms. “What’s yours.”