Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If that came as a surprise to anyone, well, you need to get out more. This is for fun and not profit.

Rating: VERY NC-17 (This is a darker fic, and not at all for the kiddies. Don't read if you're not old enough.)

Author's Note: The one sort of fic I always said I wouldn't write was vamp Buffy. I have nothing against the people who do write them, and there have been some very well done ones out there—it's just never been something I've particularly liked. But then there I was, minding my own business, when this rabid plot bunny just jumped right up and bit me on the ankle, and damn it if the little bastard wouldn't let go. So here it is…my version of vamp Buffy. *kicks fanged plot bunny*

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC. It's not like my lighter fare, and not even as light as my angstier stuff. There is rape (though not particularly graphic and not between Spike and Buffy), character death (and more than Buffy's character undeath), graphic violence, and HEAVY angst. If any of this is a big problem for you, don't read this fic. If you do anyway and you're bothered by one of these things, it's your own fault for not paying attention to the warnings, and I will not tolerate flames regarding these issues. Hopefully we're all clear now.

Feedback and Archiving: Both are welcome, but if you haven't archived one of my fics in the past, please ask permission before you do.

Contact Info: email: addie_logan@yahoo.com website: http://www.dark-desire.org/blood updates list: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/addielogan/

*** *** ***

"Evil is neither suffering nor sin; it is both at the same time, it is something common to them both. For they are linked together; sin makes us suffer and suffering makes us evil, and this indissoluble complex of suffering and sin is the evil in which we are submerged against our will, and to our horror."
—Simone Weil, "Some Thoughts on the Love of God"


Where the clouds
Pull apart
Where the moon changes faces
In the quiet
Secret places
Are you there? Are you there?

Shine on friend.
Goodnight.
Why, then, the darkening of the light?
—Concrete Blonde, "The Darkening of the Light"

*** *** ***

It had taken days for the screaming to begin. She'd been so stoic, so strong, but eventually, he'd broken her.

He always broke them eventually…

The screams and cries were nearly constant now, her conscious mind finally retreating, unable to take the torture from a demon wearing the face of the man she loved.

The sound of them made Spike uneasy, made him shift uncomfortably in the chair she'd forced him to be confined in. He knew, being what he was, he should revel in those screams—or at least be able to deal with them better than he was. But he couldn't. The sounds she made now twisted in him, made him feel sick in a way he hadn't in over a century.

She was a Slayer—a warrior. She was meant for a better end than this.

Spike had fought his share of Slayers—killed two of them—but never had he even thought to torture one. It wasn't how that fight should end. The battle between Slayer and vampire was something mythic, something sacred.

Or as sacred as a something damned could hold it.

Angelus's defilement of the girl he had now was an insult to that. He hadn't been able to best her in a battle, so instead he'd chained her down, broken her to the point where she was finally someone he could control. And eventually, he'd claim the life of a Slayer, get to tout that honor as if he'd earned it.

It made Spike sick.

Part of him, too, felt sorry for the girl, though that was the part of him he was loathed to admit existed. As much as a Slayer was meant to die in battle, she also deserved that final fight.

When Angelus finally decided to end her life, there would be no glory for her. And in the end, what did a Slayer really have except a glorious death?

Nothing.

"Why the sulking, my sweet Spike?"

Spike turned towards the sound of Drusilla's voice, watching her as she danced naked in the pale moon light that filtered in through the mansion's high windows. Her ivory skin was covered in blood—that of the Slayer's—and it had a decidedly different effect on Spike than he was used to.

He turned away from her again.

Drusilla didn't take the hint. For all her intuition, Spike noted she could be so blind to what he was feeling sometimes, though whether it was intentional or not, he couldn't never figure out. She sauntered over to him, placing her hands firmly on his useless legs. "Do you feel left out, my darling? Too broken to play with the new dolly?"

She couldn't be more wrong… Spike sighed. "Dru…"

Drusilla stroked his face, leaving a trail of the Slayer's blood across his cheek. "You don't have to fret, my sweet. Daddy is going to make it all right again soon. He's going to make our family four again, they way it should be."

Her words made Spike look up sharply. Drusilla couldn't possibly mean what it sounded like she meant… "What's Angelus going to do, luv?" he asked, dreading the answer as much as he needed his fears confirmed.

Drusilla jumped to her feet and spun around once, clapping as she did. "He's going to make her like us! He's going to make me a sister, and he promises me I can play with her all I like."

The sick feeling inside of Spike grew. Drusilla was obviously blinded by the idea of a life-sized dolly to add to her collection, but Spike had a feeling things were not going to play out the way she and Angelus hoped. A turned Slayer… It just wasn't done. It was wrong; it went against the natural order of things.

Vampire fights Slayer. Vampire kills Slayer. It was the way it went, and changing it could only lead to badness.

"Dru, I don't think…"

She didn't let him finish. This game was too fun for William to spoil it with his sour mood… "Come with me. I want to watch Daddy make her one of us."

Spike couldn't think of a thing he'd rather see less than that. He'd avoided Angelus's bedroom not just because he hated to see the older vampire's hands all over Drusilla, but because he didn't want to watch as he defiled the Slayer. It didn't thrill him, didn't make the demon in him shout for joy.

It made the demon in him snarl in outrage.

But Drusilla missed the protest that started on his lips and moved behind the chair, wheeling him in front of her as she returned to Angelus's side. Spike turned his head at his first glimpse of the Slayer since Angelus had taken her.

The chains hung unused now, the broken Slayer past the point of fighting what was happening to her. Instead, she stared off into the distance, her mind somewhere else as Angelus moved brutally on top of her, violating the body the rest of her seemed to want to vacate.

Drusilla jumped onto the bed, crawling over to the far side before kneeling beside the Slayer, her eyes wide with delight. "Do it now, Daddy."

Angelus looked up at Dru and grinned before his face shifted, the demon emerging. Spike watched in horror, both man and demon inside of him for once in perfect agreement.

This was wrong…no good could come of this…

He didn't know what compelled him, and didn't fully realize he'd done it until it was too late, but Spike reached out from his wheelchair, his hand taking the Slayer's as it hung limply from the bed.

She was just close enough to touch…

And as his hand closed over hers, her head turned, and what he saw in her eyes made his stomach lurch.

Recognition.

Part of the girl was still there, still knew what was happening to her.

Their eyes locked, and Spike mouthed what was only the second genuine apology he'd given anyone since he'd become a vampire.

"I'm sorry…"

The Slayer smiled softly at him, sadness in her eyes, yet understanding, too.

Then Angelus's fangs entered her throat, and she bucked, her eyes rolling upwards as he fed from her one last time.

Spike tightened his grip on her hand and didn't let it go until it fell away from him, lifeless.

*** *** ***

Any interested readers for this one? Please leave a review and let me know!

When she woke, all she knew was hunger. Intense, searing; it made her scream, made her tear at the sheets around her with her claws.

Until a rough hand pushed on her chest, holding her down.

"Buffy. Stop."

She turned, yellow eyes blinking slowly as she gazed upon Angelus. She stilled for a moment, taking in her surroundings. All around her, she smelled old, dried blood.

Her blood.

She remembered what had happened here, remembered what had gotten her to this state. Angelus… He'd cornered her, caught her at a weak moment, then brought her to this place. There, he'd broken her.

Then, he'd done to her the one thing she'd always feared the most.

She remembered. She remembered it all.

And she would never forget...

A slow smile spread across her face, her fangs glinting in the pale light. "I'm hungry…sire."

Angelus's own evil grin met hers.

*** *** ***

The first kill had been so easy. The girl had cried, begged for her life, and yet there had been no soul inside of the newly-risen vampire to hear her pleas. Instead, she sank her fangs into the girl's fresh neck, unable to stifle her moan of pleasure at her first taste of human blood. It was better than anything she'd ever tasted before, better than anything she'd even been able to imagine. When the girl's heart stopped, the vampire threw her down to the dirty ground of the alley and licked her lips.

Angelus moved behind her then, his arms wrapped around her waist. "See, baby? That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Buffy turned, the smile on her face sultry. "No. It was… magnificent."

Angelus ran his finger across her lips, then licked off the trace of blood he'd gathered from them. "I knew you'd love this, Buff." He smiled coldly. "Besides, what better way to thank you for helping me out with that pesky soul problem than to take yours."

Buffy giggled, the sound taking on a chillingly evil quality. "And don't you worry, baby—I'm gonna do everything I can to thank you for this."

"Mmm…that's my girl." Angelus grabbed Buffy by the waist, lifting her up until her legs wrapped around him. He kissed her harshly, fangs hitting fangs, tearing at each other's lips. He kicked the body of the dead girl out of the way as he brought Buffy to the brick wall and pressed her against it.

*** *** ***

It was nearing dawn before Buffy crept out of bed, careful not to wake Angelus and Drusilla. The other female vampire had been quite upset about not being allowed on her new "sister's" first hunt, but Angelus had made up for it upon their return, allowing Drusilla to play with them as much as she'd liked.

Buffy padded down the hallway, rolling her shoulders as she did to work out the kinks. She knew not too long ago, she would've been disturbed by her nudity, but now, it seemed trivial.

She stopped when she found Spike, his head tilted to the side as he slept in his wheelchair. He was pale and gaunt, and her newfound instincts told her he hadn't fed properly in quite some time.

She watched him for a moment, trying to decide what she should do. Her initial thought was to not trust anyone, especially someone who had, at one point, been her mortal enemy.

However, one memory stood out in her mind. Hazy, but there nonetheless.

A hand clasped over hers…

She walked over to him, crouching in front of the wheelchair. "Spike," she whispered, shaking him lightly as she did. When he didn't answer, she tried a little louder. "Spike!"

Spike shook his head, his eyes blinking open. He frowned at the naked girl kneeling at his feet. "Slayer?" he asked groggily.

"More or less," she replied. "Come on, I'll get you into a bed. You'll be more comfortable that way."

Spike's brow furrowed, the situation seeming absurd, especially to his starved and sleep-addled brain. "Why do you care where I sleep?"

Buffy reached out and stroked his cheek, the act the first gentle one she'd performed since she was turned. "Because you were the only one in this house to show me any kindness."

Something was off, Spike knew, but he allowed her to roll him into one of the bedrooms, then help him into the bed. He'd expected her to turn around afterwards and go back to Angelus, yet she surprised him by climbing in with him. She slid down to the end of the bed, sitting up to take off his boots before she reached for the fly of his pants.

Spike's hand shot out to still hers. "What are you doing?"

"Making you more comfortable," Buffy replied, her wide, green eyes holding an innocence Spike knew he couldn't trust.

"Pet, you shouldn't. Angelus…"

She smirked. "Somehow, I don't think you much care what Angelus thinks."

Spike sighed. To a point, she was right. But the way things stood now, with him being as weak as he was, he didn't want to run the risk of playing with his grandsire's new toy before the older vampire had had a chance to break her in as much as wanted to. Maybe, later, Angelus would allow Spike his own go with the blonde, but taking it for himself now was running a risk he couldn't currently afford.

"I don't, but…"

Buffy placed her cool finger against his lips. "Shh… Just let me take care of you, baby."

The situation made him uneasy, but Spike was too weak to fight it. He let Buffy undress him, though when her hands came up to grip his flaccid cock, he sighed.

"There's no use trying, pet. I can't feel a bloody thing from the waist down thanks to your little organ-dropping stunt."

Buffy pouted, a look that certainly would've brought life to his cock had it been a possibility. "Bad, bad Buffy," she tsked, shaking her head. "When you've gotten your strength back, you'll have to punish me."

Spike's only response was a cocked eyebrow.

"In the meantime, though, you need to feed." Buffy pushed her hair away from her neck and leaned in, her flesh now against Spike's mouth. "Here. I fed enough for both of us tonight."

Spike jerked his head to the side. "No."

Buffy sat back up, frowning. "What? Why? Come on, Spike. You know you always wanted to bite me…"

She was right there, of course, but now wasn't like before. Something was very off here, and more than just the fact the Slayer was now a vampire.

The chit was up to something, and it made Spike too nervous to ask what.

Buffy wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Spike, you need to feed, and my blood will help you. It could still be Slayer blood—wouldn't that make you heal faster?"

He regarded her for a moment, his head cocked to the side. He wanted what she was offering—but could he take it?

Buffy didn't leave the decision up to him. She grabbed him by the back of the head, ignoring his snarl as she forced his mouth to her neck.

"Drink me, Spike. Come on, baby—you know you wanna."

Spike snarled again against her dead flesh, his mouth refusing to open.

Buffy straddled his limp lower body, grinding herself against him with a low moan. "Please, Spike… I need your fangs."

He tried to fight her, tried to resist being forced to do something he didn't want to do, but she was working herself hard against him, her pussy growing wet and the scent of her arousal assailing him. It was the sweetest scent he'd ever known, doing things to him even though his cock couldn't as much as twitch.

Yet his fangs did break through her skin, and he snarled as he feasted hungrily, her borrowed blood still holding a trace of warmth. Buffy gasped and writhed, her body writhing in pleasure until Spike finally pulled away with a growl.

Buffy smiled at him, her unneeded breath coming in harsh pants. She leaned in and licked the excess blood from his mouth before meeting his lips in a strangely gentle kiss.

"I have to go back," she told Spike as she climbed off his body and tucked a sheet around him. "I can't risk Angelus getting upset with me now. But things will be different with me here, Spike. I'm going to take care of you."

Spike knew Angelus wouldn't like that, and that it could very easily lead to the older vampire simply offing him in his weakened state. "Buffy, you don't have to."

"I want to," Buffy insisted.

"Pet, you…" He reached out and gripped her hand, then froze immediately as he did, remembering the last time he had held her hand in his. Buffy must've too, because a look of something akin to horror crossed over her face, and she jerked away from him suddenly.

Spike couldn't protest her help anymore. Despite the fact that the demon she was now was sure to be able to handle what she'd suffered at Angelus's hands better than the girl ever could have, it was clear some part of it still haunted her. If it helped her to help him, then he couldn't bring himself to deny it to her.

"Thank you, Buffy."

She met his eyes slowly, blinking as she did. Had he ever called her by her name before? She couldn't remember…

"You're welcome," she replied, her whisper barely audible even to his ears before she slipped out of the room to return to her sire's bed.

*** *** ***

Angelus's first suggestion of how Buffy could make her mark as a vampire had been to kill her mother, but something inside of her had balked at the suggestion. She didn't particularly feel the need to see the woman again, but at the same time, killing her didn't seem right.

It was something she didn't want to think about too hard.

That didn't, however, mean she wanted to leave everyone she'd known in her human life unharmed.

She stood outside of Xander's door, her arms wrapped around herself as she did her best to look completely terrified. By the time he finally peeked his head out, she'd worked up to tears.

"Buffy!" he exclaimed in shock and elation. "Oh god, Buffy, we all thought you were dead!"

"Xander, please, you have to let me in," Buffy begged, glancing behind her in well-acted panic. "I just got away, and I think Angelus is following me. Please…I can't go back there, after… Oh, god, Xander, the things he did to me!"

Xander glanced out quickly, searching for Angelus himself. "Yeah, come on in. I'll make sure he can't get you."

Suddenly, Buffy's fearful expression changed to a sly smile as she stepped over the threshold. "Really, Xander, you're too kind."

In that instant, Xander knew something was wrong, but his brain couldn't seem to process what it was. Then, he saw Buffy's beautiful features shift, revealing what she was now, and he screamed.

"Shh…I'll do it quick," Buffy told him. "Besides, haven't you always wanted my mouth on you?"

"Not like this," Xander replied, shaking in fear. He glanced around the room, desperately searching for some sort of weapon, yet coming up empty.

Buffy grabbed Xander with preternatural speed and slammed him against the wall. "Gotta take what you can get," she told him with a shrug before her fangs tore into his neck.

After Xander's lifeless body hit the ground, Buffy stepped back out of the house, licking her lips. Angelus waited for her outside, a wide grin on his face.

"How'd he taste, baby?" he asked, his arm going around her waist.

"Delicious," Buffy replied as she nuzzled against his side. She looked up. "I want another one."

Angelus chuckled with delight, proud of his childe. "Lead the way then."

*** *** ***

Thank you for all the support you guys gave me for the last chapter. I am a little nervous about this one since it's so different from most of my stuff, so it was good to see I had so many people on board!

Willow couldn't sleep. In truth, she hadn't been able to sleep for days, not since Buffy had disappeared.

There wasn't any real question about what had happened to her, not with Angelus on the loose. It tore Willow up inside to think of Buffy at the hands of that monster, and what he must've already done to her while they'd been unable to track him down.

The old factory was in ruins, destroyed in Giles's attempt to get revenge for the death of his beloved Jenny Calendar. Willow had no doubt Angelus had escaped the blaze, and had since taken Buffy, but there hadn't been any sign of either of them.

Buffy—her best friend—was gone. Willow couldn't help but feel that she had somehow failed her.

A strange noise outside of her room made Willow bolt upright in the bed, and she reached under her pillow to grab the large wooden cross she kept under there just in case. She feared the day she had to try to explain to Ira and Sheila Rosenberg why their only daughter slept with a cross, but with everything that was going on, she felt safer with it.

Another noise, this time a definite knock at the French doors across from her. Tentatively, she crept from the bed and to the doors, gasping as she pulled the curtains back and saw a terrified Buffy standing outside.

Immediately, she dropped the cross to the floor and opened the door. "Buffy! You're alive! I thought for sure Angelus had killed you!" Willow exclaimed, tears in her eyes.

Buffy shook her head, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. "He…he wanted to break me first. Oh, Wills, the things he did to me!" Buffy glanced over her shoulder, as if in panic. "I snuck out the first chance I could, but I think he's following me. You have to let me in, Willow. Please."

Willow opened her mouth, the words almost coming. But then, she froze. Something was…off. She was still standing inside of her room, yet the door was wide open. If Angelus was chasing her, why hadn't Buffy already run inside?

She didn't want to give into the nagging worry in the pit of her stomach, but Willow knew she had to at least entertain the thought. If she was wrong—and god did she wish she was—then Buffy would understand.

If she wasn't… Well, she didn't want to think about that because she had to be wrong.

Willow took a few steps back into the house. "Um, just a moment, Buffy."

"Willow, please, hurry! He could be here any second!"

As quickly as she could, Willow snatched the large cross back off the ground and brandished it at Buffy. Horror filled her as she got the response she'd dreaded.

Buffy hissed, her face shifting to its demon form as she stumbled backwards, away from the cross. "Bitch," she snarled at Willow.

The sight of her friend as a vampire was almost more than Willow could take, and she closed her door shut before stumbling back to the room. She fell to the ground, clutching the cross to her chest as she began to sob, rocking back and forth on the floor.

All hope was lost now.

Buffy was dead…

*** *** ***

"She wouldn't let me in," Buffy said with a pout, kicking a small rock at her foot. "Stupid Willow."

"There, there, Buffy," Angelus said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "How about we burn the house down? Would that make you feel better?"

Buffy shook her head, her pout firmly in place. "No. I wanted to eat."

"Baby, you've already had Xander and that homeless guy. Just because you're undead doesn't mean you can't get fat."

"But I want to eat someone else. I got my fangs all in the mood for high school girl, and then she wouldn't invite me in." Buffy turned her gaze up to Angelus and batted her eyelashes. "Take me to the Bronze?"

Angelus sighed. "Fine. But only because I'm in the mood for that, too."

Buffy squealed in delight, bouncing slightly. "Yay! Let's go now." She tugged on his arm until he started walking.

A grin spread across her face as she realized how easy it was to manipulate her sire. Just a little more blood, and she'd have enough to take home to Spike…

*** *** ***

Spike woke to the feel of Buffy lapping at his neck. He moaned, his arm coming up instinctively to wrap around her waist.

"I brought you dinner," Buffy told him as she nipped gently at his jugular with blunt teeth.

He didn't hesitate this time as Buffy pulled him up to a sitting position and directed his fangs to her neck. Already, the blood she'd given him the night before was having an effect, and he'd been able to maneuver himself from the wheelchair to the bed, albeit with some struggle.

Buffy moaned and bucked in his lap, and for the first time in what had seemed like an eternity to Spike, his cock twitched. He groaned in pleasure as he continued to drink, her borrowed blood filling him with new strength.

When he'd taken enough for the night, Spike pulled away and lapped at Buffy's neck. "Fuck, you taste sweet, pet," he murmured against her skin.

Buffy giggled. "I bet you do, too."

He smirked. "Well, I've never had any complaints, but doesn't it defeat the purpose of feeding me if you go and take it right back?"

"I didn't mean that," Buffy replied, shaking her head. She slid down so she was kneeling between his legs, her hands at the buttons of his jeans. "I meant this…"

Spike groaned as she opened his fly and pulled his cock out into her hands. "Buffy…Angelus wouldn't…"

"I don't care about Angelus," she said, the name of her sire tinged with disgust, before her tongue darted out and licked the head of his cock.

"You should, pet," Spike said, even as he thrust his hips up as best he could. "You're just a fledge, and I'm in no position to protect you."

"Would you, if you could?"

Her question helped clear the lust-fog from his mind. "Would I what, Buffy?"

"Protect me," she clarified, her eyes wide, alluring. "From Angelus…"

Before Spike could answer, she lapped at his cock again, this time adding a quick bite to the tip. Spike moaned in pleasure. "Fuck, pet…yeah…"

"So you'd protect me from him if I needed you to?" she asked again, then licked the shaft.

"Yes. Anything…anything you needed…" Spike said, the pleasure of her mouth on him intense after being denied sexual stimulation for so long.

"Looks like little Spikey's got his strength back," Buffy teased with another lick.

Spike looked down at her, one eyebrow arched. "Not so little, Slayer."

Buffy giggled. "Nope. Not little at all. Wonder how much I can fit in my mouth." She slid down, her eyes widening as she realized the answer to that question. She pulled back up, grinning. "Okay, I'm totally loving this no breathing thing."

Spike grabbed the back of her head and pushed her back down. "Yeah, me, too. Now stop talking and suck it."

Buffy met his eyes as she rolled hers, but she didn't pull up. Instead, she sucked him with everything she had, keeping his long shaft fully down her throat as she swallowed around him.

"Oh fuck, yeah," Spike moaned, shivering as he felt Buffy's teeth clamp down near the base of his cock. He fisted his hands in her long, blonde hair and began moving her head up and down, fucking her mouth.

In life, Buffy didn't think she ever could've enjoyed something like this—even if it wasn't with Spike. But now, in this time, in this place, she was loving it. All she had to do was move her tongue a bit, and Spike was completely and totally hers.

It really put the world in perspective.

"That's it, Slayer. Swallow my cock," Spike sneered, his hands tightening in her hair. "Swallow it all."

Buffy happily complied.

When Spike came in her mouth, it was hard and fast, but she swallowed every drop, determined to see it through to the end. Finally, Spike slumped back, spent.

Buffy climbed up his body, feeling the vibrations of a low purr in his chest. "Just as tasty as I thought," she told him with a lap to his neck.

Spike couldn't do much more than pant, his body still trembling from his orgasm. This was the woman Angelus had added to his bed?

He hated the wanker even more…

"I really, really don't want to leave you," Buffy said, pouting as she sat up. "But I don't want Angelus to get all cranky. He says I have to sleep in there with him 'cause I'm his. But can I tell you a secret?"

"What's that, pet?"

Buffy leaned down, her lips against his ear as she whispered, "I don't want to be his. I want to be yours."

Then, she was up and gone, leaving Spike gaping.

*** *** ***

Angelus was waiting for her when Buffy came back to his room. He sat up in the massive four-poster bed, his arms crossed over his bare chest. Drusilla slept beside him, oblivious to what went on around her.

"And where have you been?" Angelus asked, his eyebrow cocked.

Buffy met his eyes defiantly. "Playing with Spike," she answered.

In a blink, Angelus was up, his hand wound tightly in her hair. "Did I say you could play with Spike?"

"It was just a little bit," Buffy said, giving Angelus her best wide eyes. "I can make it up to you."

"You better," Angelus said with a growl. He threw her to the ground. "On all fours, bitch."

Buffy did as he said, her eyes rolling as soon as Angelus was behind her.

She hoped Spike regained his strength soon.

*** *** ***

Willow hadn't moved from her spot on the floor by the time the sun began to rise. She's stopped crying, stopped rocking, hours ago—now she was simply staring at the wall.

The possibility of Buffy dying had always been in her mind—especially after what had happened with the Master—but Willow had still managed to hold on to the thought that Buffy was somehow invincible. The blonde Slayer had been though so much; she'd even managed to cheat death. So how could this have happened?

Willow couldn't help but wonder if this was all her fault. Buffy had gone out on patrol alone the night she'd been captured. Would it have made a difference if Willow had just forgotten about doing one last study session for a test she was already more than prepared for and insisted she go with Buffy, or would she be dead now, too? Had she let Buffy down by not being able to find her after she'd disappeared? Had she not searched hard enough, too afraid of what she might have to face to give her friend the help she needed?

She supposed it didn't really matter now. Buffy was gone. She was like Jesse had been, just a demon who had taken over the body of her friend. The part of her who had really been Buffy—her soul—had left the moment she'd died.

Giles had driven that fact about vampires home so many times now, Willow knew it was as good as gospel.

Giles… As much as she was loathed to do it, Willow knew she had to get up now. She needed to go to school so she could give him the news. She shivered at the thought, not knowing how she was going to break it to the Watcher. Willow knew he'd loved Buffy as if she were his own daughter, and now this so close to Jenny's death…

It would be enough to possibly break him, she knew.

Still, it had to be done.

With resolve she hadn't known she possessed, Willow pulled herself to her feet, determined that she could face this day.

And whatever came after it…

*** *** ***

A lot of people have been saying they're confused because they don't know what Buffy's up to with Angelus. You're not confused—you've only read a couple of chapters. I haven't given you all the details yet on purpose. It wouldn't be much of a story if I just told you everything that was going to happen right off the bat. Just sit tight, and you'll see where I'm going with this soon enough.

As for Buffy being evil—yes, she is. No, she does NOT have a soul. If you can't handle an evil Buffy, this isn't the fic for you. There's so many stories where she retains her soul when she's turned, and I wanted to do something different in this one. So, evil soulless Buffy here. If you don't like that, then you can stop reading. I won't be offended—I know people have things they like and things they don't, and I'm okay with that. What I do ask is that if you have issues with evil Buffy, but you continue to read anyway, that you don't complain about her evilness. This is what the story is, and I've been very upfront about it being dark and angsty.

Giles knew the moment Willow came into the library something was wrong. The red rims around her eyes gave away that she'd been crying, but her face… She was stricken. He braced himself on the counter, waiting for the worst.

For her part, Willow had rehearsed in her head over and over again what she was going to say to break the news to Giles. She needed to ease him into it, maybe tell him to sit down like they always did in the movies.

But when the time came, all she could do was blurt out, her voice cracking from her tears, "Buffy's dead!"

Giles had somehow known she was going to say that, even if his heart hadn't wanted to believe it—still didn't want to believe it. "Are…are you sure? Willow, what happened?"

"I saw her last night," Willow said. She paused, a sob bursting forth. "Giles, she's a vampire!"

It was even worse than he thought, and Giles stumbled, barely managing to grab on to the counter with his other hand and use both to pull himself back up. "No…please, no…"

"She…she came to my house," Willow continued. "She tried to get me to invite her in, but something felt wrong, and I held up a cross. And then she…I saw her face, Giles." The redhead stopped for a moment and shuttered. "She ran off then."

"I can't…" Giles shook his head, removing his glasses so he could wipe away his tears. "I failed her."

Willow opened her mouth to respond, to try to assure Giles it wasn't his fault at all, but before she had a chance. Cordelia burst through the library doors.

"Xander's dead!"

Willow and Giles both whipped around to look at Cordelia, identical looks of shock meeting the sobbing brunette. "What did you say?" Willow asked, her brain unable to process the news that she'd lost her two dearest friends in only a day.

"Xander's dead. I…" Cordelia stopped, her usual in-control demeanor completely gone. "I went by his house to drive him to school, and there were cops everywhere. They wouldn't tell me much, but when I explained I was his girlfriend, they did tell me his mother had found him dead this morning."

Willow sank to the ground, her head buried in her hands. "This is all my fault."

"No, Willow, it isn't," Giles insisted.

"It is! It was Buffy who killed him, Giles, I know it. It just…it has to be. He must've invited her in! But he wouldn't have if I'd just warned him!"

Cordelia took a step back. "Wait…what's going on here? Did we find Buffy?"

Willow looked up at the cheerleader. "Buffy's a vampire. She…she tried to get into my house last night. She must've gotten Xander." She looked away, her head hanging. "Only she wouldn't have it I had had the sense to warn him instead of just sitting on the floor all night like an incompetent idiot."

Giles took a tentative step forward and put a hand on Willow's shoulder. "You cannot blame yourself for this. For one thing, you have no idea if Buffy even did this—or if she did, if Xander wasn't already dead before she came to your home."

Willow shook her head, her body drawing in on itself.

Her world was crashing down around her, and the only person she felt she could blame was herself.

*** *** ***

Buffy was bored.

She looked over at Angelus and Drusilla.

Painfully bored.

It hadn't taken her long to decide she didn't like hunting with Dru. The other female was petulant and fickle, and the entire night had revolved around her from the beginning. Buffy knew she, too, was manipulating Angelus with batting eyelashes and a strategic pout, but honestly… Drusilla just kept pushing the envelope.

And if she called Angelus "Daddy" one more time, Buffy might very well put herself out of her misery and just stake herself.

"Daddy, can we go find some nice little children to play with? I love the way they giggle in my tummy."

Okay, that was officially it. Buffy decided she'd find someone else to eat on her own.

"Why don't you two do that. I'm heading back to the mansion," Buffy announced.

"On your own?" Angelus asked quickly. "Are you…"

"I'm done for the night." She smiled sweetly at her sire. "You really wore me out."

Angelus puffed up his chest with pride. "Did I now?"

"Yup. So it's quitting time for me. You two go, slaughter an orphanage or whatever."

"You're still a fledgling, Buff," Angelus pointed out. "Are you sure you can…"

"Daddy, I want to play now," Drusilla said angrily, stomping her foot. "Let the dolly go on her own, I don't care."

"I'll be fine. Besides, I think Dru wants some alone time with 'Daddy.'" Buffy winked before turning around and disappearing off into the shadows, grateful when she heard Angelus and Drusilla walk off in the other direction. She wasn't sure how much more she could take of the two of them.

At least Spike was sane. Relatively speaking, anyway.

Buffy turned onto Crawford Street, keeping her eyes open for potential prey, when she spotted a girl probably around her own age on the corner, her eyes wide as she trembled. She looked up towards the mansion, realizing how close the girl was, and a plan formed in her head.

It looked like Spike would be getting a hot meal tonight…

"Are you lost?" Buffy asked the girl. Her demon face was long gone, and she looked every bit the part of the high school student she used to be.

The girl turned, startled, but immediately relaxed when she saw Buffy. After all, she'd been conditioned not to talk to threatening strangers—not small, blonde teenaged girls. "Yeah, I think I am. I'm new to Sunnydale, and I got all turned around. I was trying to find these friends I was supposed to meet, but now…" She shrugged sheepishly. "I have no idea where I am."

"My house is just up the street," Buffy said with a perky smile. "Do you want to come in and use my phone?"

"Would you let me?" the girl asked. "I'd be so grateful."

"Sure. Wouldn't be a problem at all," Buffy replied, trying to keep herself from dancing at the ease of this. "Follow me."

Without any protest, the girl followed Buffy, not a thought in her mind that she may be being led to her death.

"The phone's right in here," Buffy said as they walked into the mansion.

"I can't see anything," the girl protested, trying to squint in the dark.

"Sorry. The light burnt out right before I left, and these high ceilings are a bitch to deal with. But the phone's right in here. Come on." She placed her hand on the girl's arm and led her into another room.

It took a moment for the girl's eyes to adjust from the darkness to the dim candle light, but when they did, she gasped. She was in a bedroom now, a man dressed all in black reclining in the bed.

The man grinned, and the girl's earlier ease was gone. Whoever this man was, one look from him could fill her with sheer terror.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? Did you bring me delivery, pet?"

"Yup, sure did," Buffy replied, obviously very pleased with herself. "I thought you'd like something fresh."

Panicked, the girl turned, only to scream when she saw Buffy, the blonde's vampire face now in place. She stumbled and turned again, only to see Spike's face had changed as well.

Buffy grabbed the girl and shoved her onto the bed, forcing her in Spike's lap. The girl struggled, but she was no match for the vampire's strength, and soon, Spike's fangs were embedded in her neck.

Buffy watched Spike feeding, the sight making her tremble in desire. While she'd found him attractive before—even if she wouldn't have admitted it—knowing what he was kept her just repulsed enough to never dwell on his looks. But now… He was a vicious, bloodthirsty killer…

And it really turned her on.

When the girl was drained, Spike pulled up, his tongue coming out to lick the excess blood off of his face. Buffy grabbed the limp body and threw it to the other side of the bed before she jumped into Spike's lap, straddling him as she grabbed his mouth and kissed him, moaning at the taste of both him and fresh human blood.

"Fuck me, Spike," she begged, writhing in his lap. "I want you…"

"Where's Angelus?" Spike asked, Buffy's kisses making him pant.

"He and Dru are still out. We're alone."

That was all Spike needed to know. With a snarl, he flipped them over, relishing Buffy's squeal of delight at his actions. He wanted her—had since the moment he'd seen her really—and he wasn't going to pass up his chance at her now. The Slayer was a hot little thing, even if that was more figurative than literal now, and with warm blood in his veins and Dru's bed denied to him for so long, he wanted nothing more than a good, hard fuck.

There was no caress, no foreplay as Spike pushed Buffy's skirt up past her hips, snapped open his fly, and thrust into her body. She cried out in delight, her legs wrapping around him to hold on as he set a fast, punishing rhythm.

Buffy's eyes rolled back in her head, a fang-filled smile on her face. Angel had never been able to give it to her like this—with or without the soul. Spike was so long, so thick, and he filled her until she thought she would burst.

As her orgasm approached, his thrusts only grew in strength, making Buffy scream. She reached out blindly, searching for something to hold on to and finding the dead girl, frail human bones crushing beneath her superior strength.

The second he felt her muscles fluttering around him, Spike let himself go as well, shouting out in heartfelt release.

He collapsed on top of her, but Buffy didn't push him off. Instead, she held him closer, letting him bury his face against her neck. That had been…

Well, to say he'd rocked her world certainly wouldn't have been an overstatement.

Still, her real joy lay in how much Spike seemed to have enjoyed it. She wanted him to desire her—to desire her enough to want more.

Buffy sighed. "I wish it could be like this always. I'm so much happier when I'm with you."

Spike looked up, his head cocked to the side. "You don't like Angelus?"

Buffy shook her head, pouting prettily. "No. He doesn't know how to really please me." She stroked his cheek. "Not like you, Spike."

Spike had to admit, were he a lesser man, he'd be putty in her dainty little hands right now. However, he was smart enough to know when he was being played—even if his cock was screaming at him to just go along with it if it meant more sex like what they'd just had.

He pulled up, refastening his jeans before he knocked the dead girl to the floor and took over the spot where she'd been. "All right, Buffy. Just tell me straight—what game are you playing?"

Buffy blinked and straightened out her skirt. "Game?" she asked.

"You want something out of me, and you're playing me off Angelus to get it. So cut the crap and give it to me straight."

Buffy was silent for a moment as she decided what to do. She'd picked Spike out at the very beginning as her only possible ally, and she hoped she hadn't been miscalculating. Finally, she spoke, giving him the blunt answer he wanted.

"I want to kill him."

Spike's eyebrow arched up, Buffy's response not entirely what he'd expected. "You want to… I thought you were all in love with him an' whatnot."

"I hate him," Buffy replied with a snarl. "I remember my last days as a human, Spike. I remember every sick thing he did to me, just to hurt me. And this…what I am now—he did that to hurt me, too." She paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Granted, I don't know what I was so afraid of when I was alive, 'cause this whole being a vampire thing is wicked cool, but Angelus knew when he was doing it to me that he was going to be forcing me into my worst nightmare. He wanted to break me. But he didn't—and now I want my revenge."

Spike looked at her for a moment, processing her little speech. It wasn't common for a fledglings to be so vehement about killing their sires, no matter what the circumstances behind their turning was. Maybe it was a bit of the Slayer left in her, Spike didn't know.

"So you want me to kill him for you?" Spike asked.

Buffy shook her head. "No. When I find my chance, I'm killing him myself. But I…" She stopped and looked down, almost afraid to admit the whole truth, but knowing she had no choice but to lay her cards out on the table if she wanted to get what she needed from him. "This world is all new to me, Spike. I don't want to be alone in it."

Spike searched her voice for any sign of guile this time, but found none. He knew what she was feeling, remembered the early days of his vampirehood and the uneasiness that came with finding everything suddenly different. On the one hand, it was all amazing, but on the other, it was overwhelming.

"You just want my promise I won't abandon you then?"

Buffy nodded. "And…and I want you to be like my sire. I want you to teach me what I'm supposed to do."

"You want me to be like your sire when you off your actual one?" Spike asked, wanting to clarify for himself that she really was making such an unusual request.

"Yes."

He took a moment, mulling over her request. Offing Angelus certainly didn't rank high on his list of things that he least wanted to see happen, but it could still cause ripples in his little macabre family.

Big ones.

"You're going to do this, regardless of my response, aren't you?" he asked.

"I am. And honestly, if you get in my way, I'll dust you, too."

Spike gave her a quick nod, appreciating her truthful answer. "I wouldn't mind the wanker gone either, but the fact remains, Dru's quite fond of him. He dusts, she's not going to be happy."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "So you're what, going to let him live because you're psychotic ho of a girlfriend wants him to keep banging her?"

In an instant, Spike's relaxed demeanor was gone, and he rolled over, pinning Buffy down to the bed with bruising force. "Don't you ever talk about Drusilla that way, you hear me, girl? You're nothing to me compared to her."

Buffy nodded, even as she struggled under him. "Yeah, okay. Get off me."

Spike squeezed her wrists, making her wince, but rolled off again. "I never said I didn't want him gone because of her—I just said she wasn't going to be happy. She's going to make quite a fuss. What I need from you is a promise you'll let me handle her and not harm her in any way. I won't lose Dru."

Buffy really didn't like that amendment to her plan. She'd sort of been hoping Drusilla could meet the pointy end of a stake, too. But she supposed she could put up with her as long as Angelus was gone—and as long as Spike still paid attention to her.

And hell, maybe Buffy could eventually convince him she was the better woman anyway, and he'd ditch his loony hobag sire.

"Deal," Buffy replied. "Only Angelus fits in a Dust Buster."

"Then you've got my support."

Buffy smiled brightly and leaned in to seal the deal with a kiss before she rose from the bed. "I'm going to clean up before Angelus gets home. You should, too. He won't be happy if he smells us on each other, and I so don't feel like having to spend another night pretending to be terrified. Hello, vampire here—like I'm going to tremble at the prospect of whips and chains."

Spike allowed himself a blissful moment to indulge in the image that brought to mind before he shook his head. "Right, clean up. And we should probably take out the garbage, too," he added, nodding his head back towards the corpse.

"Yeah, that. I'll come back for it soon."

She gave Spike a quick wink before leaving the room.

*** *** ***

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Spike could tell as he began to wake that sunset was still hours away—so why wasn't he still asleep? Granted, he still had the first real meal he'd had in weeks humming in his veins, but with his body still healing, he shouldn't have been doing anything but sleeping deeply now.

Then, he noticed something else that hadn't happened in weeks.

Drusilla was in his bed.

She was licking and sucking his neck, her fingernails scraping down his bare chest and leaving trails of blood in their wake.

"Dru?" He frowned, finding her touch wasn't affecting him the way it normally did. If anything, he was angry with her. She was his sire, the woman who was supposed to love him, and yet she'd left him to suffer, broken and discarded.

Granted, Spike knew Dru couldn't be trusted to take care of a goldfish, never mind him, but at the same time, her treatment of him once Angelus had re-entered the picture had cut him deeply. After over a century of him catering to her every whims, followed by his dedication to her after the run-in with the mob in Prague, it hurt to know she wouldn't reciprocate—and would instead, ignore him in favor of another male.

She'd never once brought him a girl to feed on the way Buffy had for him the night before. Instead, she'd insulted him with mangy little dogs that weren't even fit for a snack.

Part of him said he was only being petulant, and he should simply revel in having her back, grateful to be again worthy of the touch of his dark goddess. But he couldn't seem to make that part of him be the dominating force.

For one thing, Drusilla still reeked of her sire…

In the past, before the onset of "Angel," Spike had been able to deal with having to share Drusilla. He didn't like it, but he'd understood his place in the hierarchy of their group, and he'd accepted it.

However, things were different now. He'd killed two Slayers—the proper way, at that—and earned himself the rank of Master in his own right. He didn't care who had sired whom; he was not beneath Angelus. Not anymore, and not ever again.

"Dru, don't," he said, pushing her away.

Drusilla sat up, stunned. Never had Spike rejected her. She pouted, making a soft, whimpering sound. "My Spike, why are you doing this? Don't you want to play with Mummy?"

"No, I don't," Spike snapped, surprised at how much like truth the words felt.

Drusilla regarded him for a moment, her head slightly cocked, before a fire began to blaze in her eyes. "It's her! You let her into your bed! You're mine, mine! The bad dolly can't play!" She launched herself at Spike, screaming as she clawed and bit at his flesh.

Spike grabbed her arms and threw her from the bed, his arms coming up to block Drusilla's attacks. Still, she didn't stop, his unwillingness to take her blows seeming to only enrage her more.

"You were mine, only mine!" Drusilla screamed over and over until finally, Spike snapped and his passive defense shifted. He rose from the bed and grabbed Drusilla roughly, slamming her against the wall.

"Is that what this is then? I'm yours, but you're never going to be mine? Is that how this works?"

"I made you for me!" Drusilla screamed.

"You made me to be your toy!" Spike yelled back, though as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he stared at her in shock. They were true—he'd always known, in some way that they were true—yet finally speaking them aloud made the truth too real.

He let Drusilla go and dropped her to the ground. "I can't do this. I can't…"

Drusilla slid to the floor, tears in her eyes. "Just leave her alone, Spike. You're for me—be for me."

Spike turned and looked at her, holding her gaze for a moment. He wanted to be just for Drusilla. He always had. She was his dark princess, and he wanted to be her knight. But after what he'd felt with Buffy the night before, he knew he couldn't make the promise to never touch her again. He wouldn't be able to control himself.

"Drusilla, I'm sorry, I can't give you that anymore."

"I hate you!" Drusilla screamed, making him flinch even before she leapt from the ground and attacked him again. Spike tried to wrestle her away, to keep her hands back as she attempted to claw his face. Entangled, they stumbled backwards, crashing through the bedroom door.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Angelus raged as he stormed out of his own room and over to Drusilla and Spike. He grabbed Spike and threw him off of Drusilla, who immediately began to cower and whimper.

"He…he tried to hurt me, Daddy," she said, pulling her body inwards.

Angelus turned to Spike, a sneer on his face. "Have you gone and forgotten your place, Willie boy?"

Spike rose to his feet, hoping his legs were strong enough now not to give out on him. He wiped blood from his face and met Angelus's eyes. "Sod off."

Angelus arched his eyebrow. "So you have forgotten then." He leaned down and picked up one of the splintered pieces of wood from the broken door. "Maybe I should remind you then."

Almost as soon as Angelus moved, he was tackled down to the ground, and it took Spike a moment to register the tiny blonde who had done it. "Stay away from him!" Buffy snarled, smacking Angelus hard across his face with the back of her hand.

Angelus blinked, stunned, but only for a moment. "You little bitch!" he snarled at Buffy. "You don't challenge me like this."

Buffy knew she may be playing her hand too soon, but she was already tired of going along with Angelus. Never in her existence had she been filled with more hatred for someone, and she couldn't stand it anymore. She raised her head, her eyes defiant.

"I can and I will."

Angelus reached out and grabbed Buffy, jerking her up hard as he got to his feet, then tossed her across the room. She hit the wall with a grunt.

He tsked. "You really shouldn't have done that, Buff. Now I'm going to have to punish you," he said, his tone mocking.

Buffy pulled herself back up, her features shifting to demonic. "You'll never touch me again."

Spike watched, seemingly frozen in place as the two vampires squared off. He'd known Buffy was going to attempt to challenge Angelus at some point, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon. The night before she'd seemed like she was going to bide her time until she knew she had the definite advantage.

This was not such a moment.

However, she'd have decidedly less of a chance of success if Drusilla jumped into the fray, and Spike could tell that was exactly what his sire was about to do. Dru moved to strike, but before she could, Spike was up. He grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

Drusilla let out a shriek as soon as Spike grabbed her, and Angelus turned quickly, the sound distracting him. Buffy seized the moment.

With all of her strength, she pushed Angelus backwards, sending him flying right through a large window. The curtains tumbled to the ground and he fell backwards through the glass, screaming as the sun's rays hit his flesh. Buffy rolled backwards, panting as she now ducked in the shadows.

Spike rolled as soon as he realized what Buffy was about to do, trying to bring both himself and Drusilla out of the light. However, the move loosened his hold on her, and Drusilla jumped up, only to be hit by the sun now flooding the once-dark room. She held up her arms and screamed, forcing Spike to watch helplessly as she exploded into flames, then dust.

The room grew suddenly still, the only sounds those of the birds chirping too-cheerily outside the window. Spike cowered in the shadows, unable to stop tears from forming in his eyes as he stared at what was left of his maker.

Buffy stood, her legs shaky, and watched him. The patch of sunlight dividing the room kept her from him, and while part of her told her that may be for the best since he could certainly hold her accountable for the death of his sire, another part of her wanted to go to him, wanted to try to take away some of his pain.

Instead, however, she slipped back into the bedroom, wanting to escape back into the dark.

*** *** ***

Spike sat, huddled and alone, waiting for the sun to set and allow him to move without fear of burning. A part of him felt empty, hollow. Drusilla had been more than his lover, more than the woman who owned his heart. She'd been his sire—his salvation. What was he without her?

As soon as the sun was gone, Spike crawled over to the pile of Drusilla's ashes, his tears spilling into them. "Why did you do that, baby?" he whispered, a lump in his throat. "We were happy without him before; we would've been happy without him again."

Still, as heartbroken as he was, a part of him remained angry. Drusilla had abandoned him, left him crippled and starving so she could play with her precious "Daddy." Then, she'd left him alone for good by being foolish enough to let this happen.

But he didn't want to be angry with Dru, not when all he had left her was a dampened pile of dust. He raised his head, his eyes flashing with gold as he looked towards the master bedroom. It was her…all her fault…

With a snarl, Spike jumped to his feet and stormed into the room, snatching Buffy roughly up by the arm when he found her on the bed.

"You stupid bitch!" he roared, shaking her. "This is all your fault! All of this is your bloody fault! You've been ruining my life since the moment I stepped into Sunnydale, and now you've gone and taken Dru away, too!"

"Spike, I didn't mean to," Buffy said, genuine fear in her eyes for the first time since she'd turned. She had now doubt that Spike was fully capable of hurting her, especially in this state. "I didn't even think when I pushed Angelus, I just acted. I remembered our deal, and I didn't break it on purpose."

Spike's only response was another roar as he refused to let Buffy's words soften his anger. Rationally, he knew she was telling the truth, but the moment was not one for reason. He tossed her to the ground, her body hitting the floor with a satisfying thud.

"I'm going to make you suffer," he told her, his eyes and voice cruel. "I'll make you hurt for what you did to her."

Buffy didn't move from her spot on the floor, nor did she protest against Spike's words. If he needed to mark her flesh to compensate for the death of his sire, then she would allow him that.

After all, she had told him with Angelus gone, he could step into the older vampire's place. She hoped if he could get what he needed from her in retribution for Drusilla, then he would still stay with her.

She didn't want to be alone…

She'd expected him to beat her. Angelus had left behind chains as well as a variety of torture devices, any one of them Buffy was sure Spike would know how to use. Instead, however, he snatched her back up and threw her on the bed. He had been clad only in his jeans, and he shucked those quickly before he pounced on her, shredding her clothes with his hands.

When he thrust into her, Buffy tried to reach up and touch him, but Spike snarled and backhanded her. She dropped her arms to the side, catching on to what he needed.

He fucked her ruthlessly, his demon in full control. For hours, he moved over her, releasing only to harden again and start anew. Through it all, Buffy stayed in place, willingly offering him whatever it was he needed to take from her body.

Finally, he came one last time, the sound he made as he did like a whimper, before he rolled over and collapsed at her side. Buffy lay silently in the darkness and listened to him weep.

*** *** ***

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Come nightfall of the following day, Spike still hadn't left the bed. His eyes remained open, yet when Buffy spoke to him, he showed no type of response.

She knew he was hurting. Even with as much as she'd hated Angelus for what he'd done to her human self, a part of her still ached with the loss of her sire. If she could hurt even this much, then the pain for Spike must've been unbearable.

She wondered if a vampire could dust from force of will alone. If nothing else, he showed no interest in feeding. How long could a vampire last without blood? It was a question she didn't know the answer to, and she may never know if Spike wasted away and left her alone.

The thought of losing Spike now terrified her. As odd as it seemed to the part of her who was still just Buffy Summers, the demon part of her recognized him as family—and the only family she had left. If he were gone, too, then who could possibly ever fill that void?

Buffy dressed herself and left the mansion, noticing with a strange pang in her heart that Spike didn't even seem to care she'd gone. She didn't like him like this. Spike was supposed to be, well, Spike. Without the snark and the swagger, he just wasn't right.

She made her way to the Bronze, sure she could find something there to whet Spike's appetite. Perhaps with a nice, firm-breasted meal, he'd start to feel like his old self again.

A grin spread across her face as she saw her quarry for the night. As annoying as that little bitch had been, Buffy would enjoy watching Spike make her scream.

"Hey, Harmony," Buffy said cheerily, relishing the look of contempt she got in response. It would be one of the last ones Harmony Kendall gave, after all.

"Uh, like who died and gave you the right to speak to me?" Harmony replied, rolling her eyes.

Buffy shrugged. "Yeah, I know we're not friends or anything, it's just, well, I heard about this really awesome party going on tonight with lots of college boys and free beer, and I thought maybe if I showed up with someone as hot as you, they might actually let someone like me in," Buffy replied, fighting the urge to laugh.

Harmony paused, her eyes lighting up at the prospect even as she continued to look at Buffy as if she were dirt. "There's an awesome party tonight?"

"Yep. On Crawford Street. I heard some guys from the USC football team are even in town for it. Big stuff."

Harmony flipped her hair. "Oh, that. I knew about that, of course. I just didn't think anyone as lame as you could know about that party." She rolled her eyes dramatically, then sighed. "But I guess I could do like, my good deed for the day and let you go with me."

"Oh, thank you, Harmony," Buffy replied, glad Harmony was too stupid to recognize fake sincerity. "I'll owe you so much."

"Uh huh. Of course you will. Now show me where this party is." Harmony stopped for a moment. "Not that I don't know where it is, I just want to make sure you really do."

Buffy fought back a smirk. "All right then. Let's go."

*** *** ***

"Are you sure there's a party going on here?" Harmony asked as Buffy brought her into the mansion. "It's all dark, and it smells funny."

"Oh, there's a party here," Buffy said, smiling as she stood behind Harmony. "Right through this door."

Buffy led her into the bedroom, but Harmony stopped when she saw Spike on the bed. "What the hell? Are you trying to like kidnap me to force me into some freaky threesome? Because I only do that if it's boy, boy, girl. With me being the girl of course."

"Oh no, Harmony, I didn't lead you in here for a threesome. I led you in here so he could kill you."

Harmony sighed in relief. "Oh, that's good… Wait, what?"

Buffy chose that moment to shift into her demon face, and Harmony screamed at the top of her lungs. She tried to run, but Buffy moved too quickly, and soon had a hold of her. She brought the screaming, struggling teen over to the bed and dumped her next to Spike, straddling Harmony's waist to hold her down.

"Here. It's fresh…I didn't even take a bite, even though I had to listen to her yammer on and on all the way down here. Come on, baby, eat something."

Spike stared ahead, not looking at either of the blondes in his bed, and Buffy sighed. "Look, I know you're hurting because of what happened with Dru, and I am sorry for that. Really, I am. But you have to eat. It'll make you feel better. At least a bite?"

He still wasn't responding, and Buffy sighed heavily. She needed to get his attention, needed to snap him out of this. She knew he could hear her, but he was just being stubborn…

Knowing Harmony would try to run the moment she got up but wanting the girl still alive for Spike, Buffy pulled back and snapped both of Harmony's legs, relishing both the other girl's screams and the sounds the bones made when they broke. Beautiful music to her evil ears.

Harmony whimpered and sobbed, flopping like a fish, as Buffy climbed over to Spike and straddled him. She leaned in and nipped at his neck, then licked it with a slow, languid lap.

"It'll be okay, baby," she purred in his ear as she began to grind herself against his cock. "You and me—we're gonna fit so good together. You'll see. We could bring this town to its knees, Spike, just the two of us. But you're going to have to snap out of this first."

Spike snarled, and Buffy delighted in his first response all day.

"That's it, baby. Show me what you are. You're a demon, Spike. Ruthless. There's a screaming, crying girl in your bed. Kill her. I wanna watch you rip her throat out."

Spike snarled again, this time pushing up and knocking Buffy back down to the mattress. She squealed in delight as he then turned to Harmony and hauled the girl's broken body to him.

"Please don't kill me," Harmony whimpered, flinching away from Spike's demon face. "I'll…I'll do anything."

Buffy leaned forward on her haunches, evil glee twinkling in her eyes. "Kill her, Spike. It makes me so hot to watch you feed."

Spike trembled at Buffy's words, the tone in which she said them alone enough to drive him wild. His demon took over, pushing away the pain of the man, his world focusing in on two things only—the blood pumping in his prey's veins and the sweet scent of arousal coming off the female vampire nearby.

He opened his mouth, ready to rip open Harmony's neck, when Buffy reached out and stopped him. He turned, looking at her quizzically.

"No, I don't want you to drink her there. Drink her here." Buffy's hand molded over Harmony's soft breast, then squeezed hard enough to make the girl whimper in pain. She needed him to give into the demon fully, remember what he was.

Spike met Buffy's eyes, a slow grin going over his face. God, she was a fucking twisted little thing… He loved it.

"Share her with me, pet," Spike said, his voice rough as he got caught up in the moment, in sensation. "You take her here." His hand ghosted over Harmony's inner thigh.

Buffy's grin widened, excitement humming in her. A shared look, and Spike and Buffy both ripped at Harmony's clothes, her pleas only making them savor it more.

In unison, they sunk their fangs into supple flesh. Buffy looked up from her spot between the girl's thighs, watching with lust as Spike pulled blood from Harmony's full breasts. It was the most erotic thing she'd ever seen, and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep her hands off of him once their prey was dead.

Still, they drank slowly, savoring both the taste of Harmony's blood and the sound of her tears. She eventually became too weak to scream, yet her pitiful cries were still enough to please the vampires.

When the body beneath them finally stopped its trembling and grew limp, Buffy and Spike pulled up, their yellow, feral eyes locking. Spike grabbed her and threw her facedown over Harmony's waist before he pushed up Buffy's skirt and thrust into her from behind.

Buffy was coming in moments, the gruesome version of foreplay they'd engaged in doing more than enough to get her ready. Spike continued to pound into her, snarling fiercely, the action drawing out her orgasm until Buffy was wailing.

He leaned down and bit her when he came, his fangs imbedded in her shoulder. It only served to set her off again, and Buffy's eyes rolled up as she jerked and trembled, then finally collapsed, sandwiched between Spike and Harmony's corpse.

After a moment, Spike let her up, and Buffy turned to face him. His lips were still covered in blood, and she grabbed his head, pulling him in for a kiss. They licked at each other's mouths, sharing the last bit of their meal, and moaning in pleasure.

When they broke apart, Spike met Buffy's eyes, then stroked his hand across her cheek. "Thank you."

She looked down, her sudden shyness belying what she really was and what they'd done. "I couldn't lose you. I need you here with me, Spike."

Spike cocked his head to the side, regarding her before he asked her the one, all-important question. "Do you need me, or do you just not want to be alone?"

Buffy paused, searching a moment for the answer, then feeling a little surprised when she found it. "I…I need you."

She knew it could possibly be only because she didn't know any other vampires, but somehow, she didn't think that was the case. Since her first moments in this dark new world, Spike had beckoned to her. Perhaps it was something left over from her final moments alive, when Spike had been willing to reach out to her, to give her that last moment of peace.

Whatever it was, she didn't want to analyze it. Agonizing over her every little emotion had been something she'd done when she was human. She was free of that now, free of everything.

No more sacred duties, no more always having to be strong for everyone else. Though she doubted it had been his intention, Angelus had done her a favor—he'd released her. And now, in death, she wanted to experience the joy she hadn't been allowed to in life.

And she wanted to experience it with Spike.

"The night's still young, you know," Buffy said with a slow smile. "I'm sure we could find more mayhem to cause." She looked around. "Besides—I'm getting really sick of this place."

Spike nodded slowly, things whirring around inside of his mind that he couldn't quite put words to. "Yeah, me, too."

Buffy got off the bed, straightening her skirt before she stretched, working out sore muscles. Spike regarded her, his head cocked to the side. She was so different from Drusilla. Even in death, she was like a ball of fire, and her golden skin had yet to pale from lack of sun. Her blonde hair fell in waves around her face, so different from Dru's dark tresses, and yet no less alluring to Spike.

In fact, they were perhaps more so, an observation that surprised him.

The loss of his sire still cut, but perhaps if he lost himself in Buffy for a while, he could find a way to go on. She was still a fledging, and therefore, she was still new to the rush of a good kill. If he let her, she was bound to take him on one hell of a ride—and Spike wanted to let her.

"I'm going to get dressed," Spike told her as he stood. "Wait for me, pet."

"I will," Buffy told him with a nod, letting Spike leave the room.

Once alone, she turned back to Harmony, poking at the corpse with one dainty fingernail. Less than an hour ago, she'd be alive, vibrant. She'd been dancing with her friends, enjoying a night out, but Buffy had changed it all. In one swift move, she'd brought the girl to her death.

The power that came with that gave her even more of a rush than slaying ever had.

It was one thing to kill something that was already dead, but to end an actual life… It was a heady feeling. Like playing God, and she loved it.

Buffy looked down into Harmony's lifeless, glassy eyes, a look of horror frozen on her face forever, and giggled.

"Something funny, luv?"

Buffy turned towards Spike as he came back into the room, a shiver going through her as she saw him back in his leather duster. She'd always liked that coat…

"Yeah, that look on her face," Buffy replied. "Come here and check it out."

Spike walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist before peering over her at Harmony. He chuckled. "Yeah, that is a good one."

Buffy craned her neck up to look at him. "So are you all ready to go? Have everything you need?"

"Yeah. Right here," Spike told her, squeezing her waist.

Buffy smiled at the response, relieved that Spike didn't seem to be holding her responsible for Drusilla's death anymore. Personally, she thought they'd be better off with out the psycho running around, and hopefully, Spike would come to see that in time, too.

They walked out of the room, Spike stopping short when he saw the pile of Drusilla's ashes. Buffy took his hand, gave it a squeeze, and Spike looked at her. He glanced back at the ashes one more time before nodding to Buffy.

They left the mansion, still hand in hand.

*** *** ***

Please review!

Buffy stopped suddenly, her continued grip on Spike's hand making him stumble. To his surprise, she then began to bounce, her face lighting up. "Spike! I know this house! Xander pointed it out to me once when we were doing a patrol in this neighborhood!"

"And what's so great about it, pet?" Spike asked, unable to keep himself from smiling at the sight of her so excited, despite everything else.

"It's Principal Snyder's house! He's so mean to me all the time, the little rat-faced bastard. He's the one who made me do that stupid parent-teacher night thing that you crashed." Buffy turned to Spike, her eyes wide and pleading. "Can we kill him? Please?"

"Of course, pet. I've got no problem with it. Let's go."

Buffy threw her arms around him. "Thanks! You're the best, you know that? I love killing with you the most." Her smile grew. "We should go on some sort of…of spree! We could be like…an undead Bonnie and Clyde!"

Even with the events of the day before still weighing on him, Spike couldn't help but find Buffy's joy in her new evil status anything but infectious. Ever since he'd arrived in Sunnydale, it seemed as if all the fun had been sucked from his unlife. He longed for the days when he could just cut loose and revel in bloodshed and destruction like a demon should.

Perhaps with Buffy he could find that again.

He chuckled. "I think I'd like that, too."

"But first, Snyder has to die." Buffy ran up the stairs to the porch, laughing all the way. Spike bounded up behind her.

She pounded on the door, her excitement palpable as she waited. Finally, Snyder answered, a scowl on his face as he tightened the tie on his robe.

"Well, if it isn't my least favorite delinquent—Buffy Summers." Snyder looked up at Spike and sneered. "Doesn't surprise me to see you with the likes of him. What are you doing at my house at this time of night? Did you want me to call the cops, because I'm going to."

Buffy shook her head. "Nope. See, Spike and I were about to go vandalize the school, but we were fresh out of spray paint and wanted to know if you had any," she said, her eyes wide with uneasy innocence.

Snyder pulled himself up. "The nerve of you children. I can't… Get in this house right now and wait while I call the cops. You're going to jail where you belong, missy."

"Do you want us both to come in and wait for the cops?" Buffy asked with a pout.

"Yes! Get in here right this instant. You little hooligans are going to learn a thing or two."

Snyder stormed into the house, the two blonds behind him slipping into game face before they followed.

"That was freakishly easy," Spike said as he shut the door.

"Yeah, I know. He's stupid, And he seems to think he's got the power to strike fear in people's hearts."

Spike tossed his head back and laughed. "Oh, I love those the most."

Snyder turned. "What are you two…" He stopped, his face growing pale as he realized what he was faced with. "You…you're…I know the mayor!"

"I hope you know God, too, 'cause you're about to meet 'im," Buffy said. She looked over at Spike. "You know, there's something I really want to try."

"Go for it, pet."

Buffy punched Snyder through the chest, managing to break through his skin and ribcage with her full strength. There, she grabbed out his heart, ripping it from his chest as she watched his eyes, a look of surprise there before they went lifeless.

Snyder slumped to the ground and Buffy chuckled, his heart still pulsing for a second in her hand before it stopped. "Okay, that was just really awesome."

Spike nodded towards her with his head tilted. "Bite it, sweets."

Buffy did, moaning at the rush of blood that filled her mouth. "It's like candy!" she said excitedly.

"Yep. Nothing better than a fresh heart."

"Here, you have some, too," Buffy said, handing the heart to Spike. "I wanna do something."

She dropped down to her knees in front of Snyder's body, then stuck her thumbnail into his eye and popped it out. When she did the same thing to the other one, Spike asked, "What are you doing?"

"He always said he could see what was going on behind him," Buffy replied as she took his eyeballs and replaced them in the sockets—only this time facing backwards. "Now he can!" She laughed with delight at her handiwork.

"Brilliant, pet," Spike complimented.

"Let's go through his stuff," Buffy said, hopping back to her feet. "I want to see what sort of sick stuff he was up to, 'cause I know this man has to have skeletons in his closet."

She bounded up the stairs, still laughing as she did. Spike let the heart slide from his hands to the floor and licked the blood off of his fingers as he followed her up.

*** *** ***

"Okay, I'm a vampire, and I'm disturbed by the amount of porn he has in here."

Spike's head peeked around the corner of Snyder's closet door. "Bloody hell. Was he setting up his own video store?"

"Xander would be jealous." Buffy shrugged. "Or at least he would be if I hadn't killed him."

"So you offed your mates, then?" Spike asked.

"Only him. I tried to get Willow, but she figured out what was up and chased me off with a cross."

"Are you going to go after again later?"

"Maybe." Buffy's nose wrinkled. "Most of this is slutty cheerleader stuff. No wonder that man was a high school principal. Ew."

"So no burning need to go after the people you knew in life?" Spike asked, obviously more into this topic than Buffy. While, upon his turning, he'd felt compelled to wreak vengeance on those who had wronged him, he hadn't wanted to hurt the people he'd cared about. From what he'd heard, that was highly irregular for vampires, and he wondered if Buffy was the same way. If she was, then maybe he wasn't as strange as he'd thought, and something about sharing a trait like that with his new paramour was comforting.

"Not particularly. I probably wouldn't have bothered with Xander, but Angelus was pushing for me to kill my mom, and I wanted to distract him." She wrinkled her nose as she flipped to a new page in the magazine she was perusing. "Okay, that is a seriously disturbing thing to do with a pom-pom."

"You don't want to kill your mum?" Spike asked, surprised.

"No." Buffy shrugged. "The thought just doesn't really thrill me that much. I don't really want to kill Giles either." At the next page, she rolled her eyes. "Oh please. I am so bendier than her."

Spike knelt beside her and stroked her hair. "Does part of you still love them?"

Buffy stiffened. "Vampires don't love, Spike."

"Pet, I've been a vampire a little longer than you, so I think I can speak for our kind better than you can. Some of us can love. It may be a different sort of love than what humans are used to, but we still can. I loved Drusilla. And…" He paused for a moment and swallowed. "I loved my mum, after I was turned."

Finally, Buffy's attention was away from the magazine and on Spike. "You…you did?"

"Sure. Angelus was just one type of vampire. He was a bastard when he was alive, and he was a bastard when he was dead. But vampires like us, we're different, yeah? We can be evil and still care, at least a little bit."

Buffy smiled at him, her expression softer now than the evil one she'd worn so frequently over the past couple of days. "So…does that mean you care about me?"

Her eyes were so wide, so welcoming…how could he not? "Yeah, baby. I do."

In a move that surprised him, Buffy threw her arms around him. "I care about you, too. I thought it was kind of weird, 'cause we're vampires, and when I wasn't, you were my enemy and stuff, but I like being with you and you make me happy, so if you say vampires can care a little, then maybe it's okay."

Spike returned her embrace. "Yeah, it's okay." He pulled back and cupped her chin. "But be careful who you show it to, pet. Some might see it as weakness."

"I'm not weak," Buffy replied, her back suddenly growing stiff again.

"No, you're not. But vampires, we're predators—always looking for an in, yeah? But I know what you're feeling, and I know it doesn't mean you can be anything but a Big Bad." He winked.

"I'm gonna be," Buffy said. "I've never felt this free in my life, and I'm going to relish it—do everything my evil little heart desires."

Spike smiled. "That's my girl."

As Buffy smiled back, Spike couldn't help but feel disloyal to Drusilla. Never in all their years together had they had a moment quite like this one—yet Dru had never felt love the way he did. Granted, she'd retained some of her capacity to love, but never the way Spike himself had, even if he'd tried so hard to convince himself she could truly reciprocate his feelings.

But Buffy… Could she be different? Could the loss of his sire somehow be a blessing in disguise—his chance to finally know the sort of love he'd craved for well over a century?

His unbeating heart clenched with hope. This tiny blonde could be the answer to his, well, not exactly prayers, but what he was looking for nonetheless.

Earlier, she'd said they could be like an "undead Bonnie and Clyde," and Spike found himself wanting that more than anything. The thoughts alone of what they could do together were enough to make him tremble.

"Sun's going to be up soon, kitten," he said, kissing her forehead. "We should be finding ourselves a place to bunk for the day."

"Can we put Snyder in an embarrassing position before we leave?" Buffy asked.

Spike chuckled. "Of course, pigeon."

*** *** ***

She ran through the graveyard, laughing, and Spike couldn't help but give chase. It had been a long time since he'd felt this carefree, not since before that mob in Prague.

Being with Buffy was like finding a part of himself again.

As much as he hated to even think it, losing Drusilla had been, in some ways, a relief. Recently, things hadn't been with her like they'd once been, and in all honesty, he didn't think they could ever go back, not after the way she'd treated him. He knew there was no question about whether or not he would've forgiven her, but even if Angelus had wandered out of the picture again, things never would've been the same.

But now, it was like getting a fresh start. Buffy was beginning her existence as a vampire, and tonight had been like getting to see it all through her eyes. It was all fresh to her, all new, and she had reveled in every sensation. Seeing the look on her face when she sank her fangs into Snyder's heart was something Spike wouldn't trade for the world.

Still, Spike had never really played the roll of sire before. His only attempt at turning someone other than a minion had met with disastrous results, and since then, he'd made no childer.

He stopped short, something catching his eye. "Pet! How about over here?"

Buffy halted, turned, and came to Spike's side. "Cozy little crypt for two?" she said, wrapping herself around him.

"That's what I'm thinking." Spike replied with a smile. "Wanna go in and check it out?"

Buffy nodded enthusiastically, and Spike led her in, his hand linked with hers.

"A couple rugs, some throw pillows, it could be homey," Buffy said, looking around the dusty crypt in approval.

"We can fix it up later. Right now…"

Before Spike could finish his sentence, Buffy had tackled him to the ground. Without another word, he grabbed her face and kissed her hard.

*** *** ***

I don't know why people assumed the last chapter was the end. If it was the end, I'd say so—I didn't; it wasn't. Remember all those warnings of angst at the beginning? Trust me, those were for more than the little bit of angst I've had in here so far. This story was not all about Buffy getting rid of Angelus. Honestly, he wasn't even ever meant to be the focus of it. I have something else entirely planned. So sit tight, and I'll let you know when I've reached the end.

Please review and Happy Halloween!

Buffy stretched as she woke, a contented smile on her face before she even opened her eyes. She could feel Spike's firm chest beneath her, could smell his scent all around her, and she loved it.

She rolled onto her side, taking the opportunity to inspect him while he slept. His pale skin was covered in small marks left by her teeth and nails, while the curls in his bleached hair were rumpled, her hands having freed them from their usual slicked-back style.

Buffy wondered if she could convince him to let her do his hair from now on...

But what she loved most were her marks—especially the very distinct bite mark on the side of his throat. He looked like hers, and she loved it.

She doubted he'd completely forgotten about his sire and former lover, but Buffy was determined that in time, Drusilla would be nothing more than a distant memory. She wanted Spike all to herself, wanted him to belong to her and no one else.

So she was a greedy little bitch, but hey—vampires didn't like to share.

She leaned in and licked his neck, her tongue moving over her bite mark. Spike moaned in his sleep, his cock growing harder and longer with every pass of her tongue. The effect she could have on him so easily delighted Buffy, gave her a sense of womanly power she'd never truly known in her human life.

When she noticed Spike didn't seem to be waking, Buffy decided to give it a little extra nudge. She rolled over again, her legs straddling his waist, then pulled up and guided his cock inside of her. The feel of him filling her was alone enough to make her moan, and she took a moment to let her body adjust before she began to move, riding him at a slow, leisurely pace

Spike groaned, Buffy's actions beginning to penetrate his brain through the haze of sleep. The sensation of her surrounding his cock pulled him into consciousness, and when he opened his eyes and saw her there, he groaned and thrust up.

"Good evening, sleepy head," Buffy said, her mouth quirking. "I was trying to wake you up."

Spike brought his hands to her hips, guiding her movements to gain in speed. "Yeah? Well, you picked a nice way to do that, pet."

"I thought so." She shimmied her hips and moaned. "You feel so good inside of me, Spike."

"Feels good to be inside." Spike panted as she began to ride him harder, her eyes locking with his.

She loved that she could make him forget he didn't need to breathe.

"More," Spike begged her. "Make it hurt, baby."

With a wicked grin in place, Spike knew Buffy was more than happy to oblige. She sped her hips up more, to a pace only a superhuman being could maintain, her inner muscles squeezing him ruthlessly as she did. She vamped out, watching through yellow eyes as she ran her sharp nails down his chest, tearing his flesh and bringing forth trails of blood. Spike groaned and brought his hands down to grip the sides of the sarcophagus they'd used for a bed, breaking off bits of it as he did.

The blood on his chest was more than Buffy could resist, and she dipped her head, licking it off of him with moans of pure bliss. Spike shook, his body balancing on the edge of orgasm, when Buffy moved her mouth to his chest and sunk her fangs in around his nipple.

Spike's hips shot up, a yell torn from his throat as he came hard. The feel of him slamming all the way into her sent Buffy spiraling over with him, screaming his name as she shook violently.

Finally, they collapsed in a heap on the sarcophagus, both of them panting heavily. Spike raised his hand, his fingers trembling as he stroked Buffy's hair. Bloody hell, she was…

"Amazing."

Buffy raised her head when he spoke and looked at him with hazy green eyes. "Hmm?"

"Amazing. That's what you are, Buffy. Bloody amazing."

She smiled, the expression oddly shy given the circumstances. "I am?"

"Yeah, you are." He tucked the hair on one side of her head behind her ear so he could run his knuckles across her cheek. "You're so…raw. You give into everything you feel, get lost in the moment. There's no pretense, no games when you're with me, you just… Fuck, baby, it's so intense."

"Angelus told me I wasn't good enough to really please him."

Spike's jaw ticked. "Angelus was a sodding wanker. If he wasn't smart enough to appreciate what a treasure he had in his bed, then that was his problem, Buffy. Not yours. And the fucker deserved what you did to him. The only thing that could've made it better was if it hadn't been so bloody quick."

Buffy's smile changed as she preened from his praise. "I want to please you, Spike. You make me want to, with what you do to me. When you're inside me, all I know is you."

Her words went straight to his dead heart, and for a second, Spike could've sworn he felt it beat. He kept expecting to wake up, to find himself back in that chair, broken and alone while he listened to Drusilla moan and scream in her sire's bed. This was everything he'd ever wanted, a woman who looked at him with shining eyes and told him she wanted him like no one else.

He'd wanted Buffy since the first moment he saw her. There was no reason to deny that, especially not now. However, he'd never expected to have her like this, or for it to be so wonderful. He doubted he could've ever had this if she hadn't been turned, and for that he was at least begrudgingly grateful to Angelus, even if he still didn't approve of the way it had been done.

Yet the past couldn't be changed, and he wouldn't want it to be anyway, not now. Anything was worth it to bring this dark goddess to him.

Spike searched his mind for a response to her soft admission, but found himself lacking one. For a man who had once made a life of words, he thought it strange he couldn't find any for what he felt now, but he made do with a kiss, his mouth capturing Buffy's, tasting her until his cock re-hardened, lengthening inside of her and making their movements begin anew.

*** *** ***

Eventually, they'd torn themselves away from each other, knowing if they didn't head out soon, they'd be without food for the night.

Buffy had told Spike she wanted to go shopping, claiming she didn't want to be like him in the same outfit all of the time. He'd insisted he did in fact change his clothes, only they tended to be just like the ones he'd worn before, yet Buffy's only response had been crossed arms and an arched eyebrow. Spike had laughed at that and told her it would be his pleasure to take her shopping.

Now, she stood in a shop on Sunnydale's Main Street, holding up a pale pink halter top. She liked the cut, but the color just so didn't scream "evil!"

"Hey, shop girl, do you have this in red?" she asked, calling over her shoulder.

"N…no. We only have that color," the girl replied, trembling in fear as she clutched the wound at her neck.

"Well, damn. Honey, do you like this?" Buffy asked Spike as she gestured to the pink top.

"It'll make you look like cotton candy," Spike replied, wrinkling his nose. He held something else up. "How about this?"

"That's a leather bra."

"Your point?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You're such a guy. Throw it in the bag."

His tongue between his teeth, Spike added it to Buffy's other clothes before he returned his attention to the lingerie display.

"Ooh, this is nice," Buffy said, pulling a blood red mini-dress from the rack. "What do you think?"

Spike turned to her, and his eyes glazed over for a moment as he pictured the garment on Buffy.

"I'll take that as a yes," Buffy said, Spike's look more than answer enough to her question. She slung the dress over her arm, then browsed the clothes on the rack again. "You know, this is so much better than shopping used to be. Then, I had to worry about what I could afford and what my mother would let me get away with what I'm wearing. Now I can just take whatever I want and get a tasty meal in the process." She turned to the shop girl and flashed her fangs, loving the way it made the girl cry harder.

"Being a vampire definitely has its perks," Spike replied as he ran his thumb over the lace of a red thong. He couldn't wait until it was drenched with Buffy's juices, heady with her scent.

When Buffy had found everything she wanted, Spike hauled the shop girl up, then bent his knees with the girl still propped up in front of him. "Come here, baby," he beckoned to Buffy. "Drink with me."

Buffy hurried over to him, noting how he'd brought the girl down low enough so she could reach her neck without having to crane up. It touched her that he'd be so thoughtful.

Together, they drained the girl, each taking a side of her neck until she slumped, lifeless.

Spike gathered Buffy's things and they left the store together, strolling down the street towards where he'd left his DeSoto. Buffy stopped short in front of an antique store, then took a step towards the window.

"You see something you like, pet?" Spike asked.

"Oh, not really. I mean, not anything I'm going to try to drag back with us," she replied. "I was just admiring that bed."

Spike looked at the bed in question, seeing that it was a large, wrought-iron canopy bed. "It is nice," he told her.

"I used to want a bed like that as a little girl, but my mother told me it would never fit in my room." Buffy turned away from the window. "Come on. I want to go back to the crypt and try on some of those things you picked out." She winked.

Her words made Spike's mind immediately go to one of his favorite mental places, and he followed her back to the car.

*** *** ***

Spike loved how she was after a good kill. Hot, fresh blood in her veins always enflamed her, made her desperate for a hard fuck, and him desperate to give it to her.

She was a wild thing, completely untamed—nor did she want to be tamed. She wanted to touch, to experience, to feel. Her world was one of intensity, of bright, vibrant colors and sounds.

And she brought a new light into his.

The more he touched her, tasted her, the less space Drusilla seemed to take up in his mind. He'd always thought they'd shared so much before he'd spent just a night with Buffy. She was intensely passionate in a way his sire had never been, gave into the sensual in a way Spike knew intimately. Dru had always been about control, making everything into a game in order to get her way.

Buffy simply existed in the moment, let passion and desire roll over her until she became it.

Just. Like. Him.

He felt as if he'd found water at the end of a long trek through the desert, his poet's heart wanting to describe her in metaphors and exhaust her with lyrical praise. Yet when he was inside of her, he could not speak, save for desperate gasps of her name, leaving him with no rhythm but that of his hips.

Finally, as the sun began to break over the horizon, they collapsed into each others arms, sated. Spike held her close against his chest, his hand caressing her body as he hoped that were this but a dream, he would never again wake.

*** *** ***

Reviews? Please? I'll pout if I have to… *wink*

Buffy frowned as she woke up and realized she was alone. She knew Spike was close by, since his scent still heavy, and not only coming from his coat, which he must've draped over her before he left.

Her frowned turned into a smile as she took a moment to nestle under the leather. She loved how thoughtful he was, always taking the time to do little things like this. And whenever they fed together, he always let her take the last drink of blood.

He really was the perfect boyfriend.

She got down from the sarcophagus, neatly draping the duster over it before she picked up his red overshirt from the ground and put it on. "Spike?" she called out looking around the crypt and frowning when she didn't see him. The sun hadn't gone down completely, so she didn't think he could have gone out.

"Down here, luv," she heard him call back. "There's a trap door."

Buffy followed the sound of his voice, finding the trap door he'd mentioned. She jumped down, gasping when she saw there was a lower level to the crypt.

Spike had filled it with candles, the low light perfect for her demon's eyes.

And it wasn't the only thing he'd added…

Her jaw dropped as she saw Spike, putting the finishing touches on assembling a bed.

A large, wrought-iron canopy bed.

He looked up at her. "It's not the same one from last night, but I saw this one in a warehouse not too long ago, and thought about it again when you said you'd always wanted one. There's sewer tunnels down here, so I was able to make it out there and find a X'arluug demon to help me lug it over." A nervous expression came over his face. "Is it good enough for you, Buffy? Because if it's not, I can find another one, or that one, or whatever you wanted, just tell me."

"Spike, it's perfect," Buffy said, genuinely moved that he'd do something like this for her. "Thank you."

Spike stilled completely at her words, the expression on his face one of awe. Drusilla had rarely thanked him for anything he'd done for her—if ever. Most of the time she'd either threw a fit because he hadn't done it right or she'd grown tired of whatever it was she'd wanted earlier and demanded something new. "I wanted to do something for you," he told her, the look on his face almost boyish.

Buffy walked over to Spike and knelt down beside him. "I really appreciate this, baby. You've been so good to me these past couple of days, made me happier than I've ever been. I'm so grateful that I got to be with you instead of Angelus. You, well, you told me last night that Angelus was an idiot for not treating me like I was a treasure in his bed, and that's exactly how you've treated me—like a treasure."

"It's what you are to me, Buffy," he said softly, his hand ghosting over her cheek.

She leaned in and kissed him, feeling nothing but gratitude for having him in her life. The few days she'd spent with Angelus had been less than pleasant, making her fear that was all there was to being a vampire. She didn't like always being kept down, treated like nothing more than a pet. But with Spike, she felt like an equal, a partner, and she appreciated the respect he showed her.

Torturing humans, she got. They were food and oh so fun to break. But what a lonely existence this would be if she spent an eternity with no affection at all. Didn't it make sense to form relationships with their own kind?

Buffy pulled away with a smile on her face. "Hurry up and finish the bed, Spike. I wanna break it in."

Grinning, Spike set back to work.

*** *** ***

The crowd in the Bronze parted for the leather-clad blond couple as they walked towards the balcony, the pair of them radiating a dangerous beauty. Once up the stairs, Buffy looked over the edge of the railing, Spike's arms going around her waist, holding her against his firm body.

"See anyone you like, pet?" he asked, his voice smooth against her ear.

"Her," Buffy said, pointing towards a dark-haired girl exiting out the alley door. "I want to take her home with us."

"Anything my girl wants," Spike replied before he led her back down and after their prey.

*** *** ***

Spike definitely had to say this bed had been a good find. The bars of the headboard were perfect for holding chains, as their dinner for the night had found out the hard way.

He'd let Buffy call the shots, wanting to give her the freedom to explore her newfound dark side. She'd proven herself to be as creative as she was sensual, never failing to turn him on.

When she'd asked him to fuck her while she fed on the girl, the suggestion alone had him salivating.

Beneath them, the chained girl struggled as Buffy drank from the wound in her neck. The female vampire was perched over her prey on all fours, allowing Spike to take her from behind as he watched her feed.

The girl cried, begged for mercy, but neither of the vampires was inclined to show her any.

Spike remembered how Buffy had encouraged him to feed from Harmony, and he leaned down to whisper against her ear. "Drink from her breast, luv. I want to see your mouth around her tit."

He knew the idea aroused her when he felt her inner muscles clench around him before she pulled away from the girl's neck and moved her head down. The girl screamed as Buffy's fangs pierced her breast, tearing through both the mound and the nipple.

Spike moaned, the sight spurring him on as he began to thrust harder. Buffy mewled around the girl's breast until her orgasm slammed through her, and she lifted her head to scream Spike's name. He followed her over, the feeling of her coming around him to intense for him to hold back.

He rolled her over then, cradling her in his arms. Beside them, the girl still cried, though now she was too weak to struggle. "Finish her off, baby," Buffy said, stroking a hand down Spike's chest. "I left some for you. I want to watch you feed."

"You're so good to me," Spike said, kissing Buffy's forehead tenderly before he moved over the girl and drank.

*** *** ***

"I really like this bed," Buffy said as she lay wrapped in the satin sheets and curled against Spike's body.

"Mmm, me, too," Spike replied, nuzzling his nose against her hair languidly. Once they'd finished with their dinner, he'd dumped the corpse out into the sewers before rejoining Buffy in the bed. Now, the sun had almost begun to rise, and he was feeling the pull towards sleep.

"I like this crypt, too," Buffy told him. "It feels sort of…homey. Can we stay here for a little while?"

"You aren't itching to get out of ol' Sunnyhell?"

"Not really. I can see why vampires were always so drawn to it, even with a resident Slayer. I mean, I don't think I'll want to stay here forever. I'd like to see more of the world. But for now, this is good."

"Then we'll stay," Spike told her, his hand running down her arm. "Whatever my girl wants, she gets."

Buffy smiled, her eyes sliding closed. "I like being your girl."

Spike pressed a kiss against her head. "I like it too, pet. More than I can even say."

*** *** ***

Willow had felt a strange sort of uselessness ever since she'd seen Buffy. For almost two years, her life had centered around helping the Slayer, but now—what did she have left?

Her best friends were dead; she was alone. Giles had retained his post as high school librarian, yet Willow had a feeling he was only waiting out the school year before he'd return to England. He seemed at least in part reluctant to simply leave, and Willow wondered if he wanted to see with his own eyes what she'd told him.

Or perhaps, he was hunting her, wanting to put an end to the demon who had taken over the body of his Slayer. He hadn't said anything about it, but then again, he'd said very little of anything recently.

They'd buried Xander, and Willow had visited his grave every day since. It seemed strange to her that she couldn't do the same for Buffy as well. Her friend was dead, yet her body continued to walk, animated by the demon that had taken it over.

Officially, Buffy was still listed as "missing," and Willow knew it was a case the police department would never officially be able to able to solve, though she was sure Buffy was far from the only case like it in Sunnydale. On the Hellmouth, the police probably learned to turn a blind eye to the people who turned up missing and were never seen again.

Principal Snyder had also been found dead in his home, and while this had turned out to be the source of quite a bit of joy throughout the student body of Sunnydale High, Willow couldn't help but feel sick as she thought about who had probably done it. She'd gone against her own better judgment and hacked into the coroner's website, and the photos they'd had made her have to run to the bathroom to throw up.

She had to keep reminding herself it wasn't really Buffy who had done those things. Buffy wasn't capable of doing them. Not the girl she'd laughed with, cried with, shared her deepest secrets with. No, not Buffy. A demon. Just a demon.

A demon in her friend's skin.

They hadn't seen her since the night she'd come to Willow's home, nor had they seen Angelus. Willow wondered if perhaps they'd left town, Angelus's business in Sunnydale was done now that he'd finished his plans for Buffy. She'd expected them to keep coming after her, to torment her the way Angelus had tormented Buffy when she'd been alive, but there'd been nothing.

Still, Willow had made a point to be home before dark, as had Oz and even Cordelia.

Apparently, Harmony had also been found, in a mansion on Crawford Street, gruesomely murdered. Even with the rift between the two girls as of late, that right on top of Xander's murder had made the once extroverted cheerleader withdrawn.

Willow didn't go to the Bronze anymore, not even to see Oz perform. Part of it was because the memories of the times she'd spent there with Xander and Buffy would be strong, but much of it was because she was afraid if she was there, she'd see Buffy. She knew it was a popular feeding ground for the local vamps, and if Buffy had stayed in town, odds were she'd go there, at least once or twice.

It Willow saw her, she wasn't sure what she'd do. Even with her anger of Xander's death and the knowledge her friend was, in reality, gone, she wasn't sure she could drive a stake through something that looked like Buffy.

Her one spot of anything akin to happiness was getting to teach what had been Ms. Calendar's computer class. The new principal they'd brought in to take Snyder's place had agreed to let Willow continue teaching the class, stating that it seemed to be working well, and since teachers didn't seem to be applying for positions at Sunnydale High—if anything, the ones there now were searching for new schools—then it would be best to allow Willow to remain there.

She was only a few credits shy of graduating anyway, with all the extra classes she'd taken over the past couple of years. Overachieving did have its perks.

So she stayed in. Did her homework. Wrote lesson plans. It was like her life before Buffy, only lonelier now. Colder.

She would give anything to make it all right again.

*** *** ***

Please review!

Spike liked waking up with Buffy in his arms. It seemed strange to him now that only a short while ago he hadn't been able to fathom ever waking with someone other than Drusilla. But now, after spending only a little over two weeks with Buffy, he didn't know how he'd ever been happy before her.

Every night, she found a new way to excite him. She fed and fucked with exuberance, relishing everything she experienced. He found delight in her joy, things that had once seemed mundane taking on a new shine. They'd left their mark on Sunnydale already, word of their deeds spreading like wildfire through the demon gossip mill.

Within days, everyone had known about the turned Slayer.

Not much after that, everyone had feared her.

They were fast becoming an undead Bonnie and Clyde, just like Buffy had said she wanted.

Buffy stretched against his body, signaling to him that she was waking. Spike loved the way she did that, loved the way it caused her to rub against him in such a delicious way.

"Evening, my gorgeous girl," he said to her as her eyes fluttered open. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead," she replied, giggling at her own bad pun.

Spike shook his head, but couldn't help but chuckle. "And what are you in the mood for tonight, pet?"

"I know we just had high school girl last night, but can we have it again? They're so young and tasty. Plus, most of them are idiots, so luring them to their doom—not so hard."

"I'd be more than happy to indulge that whim, baby."

"You indulge my every whim," Buffy told him. "You're total whim-indulging guy. It's one of the things I love about you."

Buffy didn't realize what she'd said until he was staring at her, slack-jawed. Panic swirled up inside of her, wondering if she'd done something wrong. Spike had told her vampires could care, but was professing love still forbidden in the demon world? Had she upset him? Had she ruined this thing between them?

She knew a part of her was still very much the seventeen year old girl she'd been when she was turned—and that part of her had become very starry-eyed where Spike was concerned. Her demon had redefined romantic for her, but as far as that went, Spike fit the bill. He was a ruthless killer, but to a vampire, it only made him more attractive.

"You love me?" he asked, his gaze holding something Buffy couldn't quite define.

"I…" She turned from him, nervous, and asked softly, "Is that okay?"

"Okay? Baby, it's bloody wonderful."

She looked up then, searching his face for sincerity, and smiling when she saw it. "Really?"

"You have no idea. I… Buffy, I've wanted to find someone to love me for so long, and you… Bloody hell, girl, you're fucking perfect, is what you are."

Buffy's entire face lit up. "So does that mean you love me, too?"

"Sweetheart, I adore you."

With a squeal of delight, Buffy tackled him, deciding their dinner of tasty young schoolgirl could wait.

*** *** ***

She looked good in chains.

After they'd fed, Spike had brought Buffy home, where she'd promptly begged him to chain her up. He, of course, had not even thought of refusing.

Now she was face down on their bed, spread-eagle with shackles around her wrists and ankles. It was a glorious sight.

"Tell me what you want now, baby," he said, his voice deep and husky as he ran his fingers down her spine.

Buffy trembled. "Make me scream, Spike. You're so good at it."

His baby loved it rough, and he loved to give it to her.

Drusilla, too, had begged for whips and chains, and while he'd always been up for it then, too, the knowledge that she wanted him to hurt her because it was what Angelus had conditioned her for was never far from Spike's mind. Drusilla had wanted him to hurt her because her sire wasn't there to do it.

Buffy wanted him to hurt her because it made her come until she saw stars. Somehow, he liked that better.

Spike sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand over her cool buttocks, enjoying the way her flesh was already trembling. She'd been wet all night—and been dripping as they'd fed—and Spike had been anxious to get her back to their home and fill her up with his cock.

But then when she'd asked him for the chains, he'd been willing to put off his gratification a little longer. After all, this would make it even sweeter.

He brought his hand down against her ass, making her jump, a cry of surprise coming from her mouth. He liked it when he could startle her with the first one. It put her more on her toes. Figuratively speaking of course.

Spike continued to spank her with his hand, knowing it would do little to truly hurt her, but it was enough to redden her bottom—and start to make her frustrated. The sting would make her want more, yet not truly satisfy her needs.

Sure enough, the longer he struck her with only his hand, the more she whimpered.

He stopped and leaned forward, taking her earlobe between his blunt teeth for a moment before he let go and whispered, "You want something with more of a bite, pet?"

"Please," Buffy replied, moaning as she pushed her bottom up into the air. "You know what I like…"

"I do, but maybe I like leaving you wanting," Spike said as he ran his hand over her back. "Maybe I like you writhing, desperate for satisfaction."

She whimpered pitifully, and the sound made Spike chuckle. "Like a bitch in heat you are, baby. Makes me so damn hard."

He got off the bed, going over to the chest where they kept their small yet growing collection of toys and choosing a small, multi-tailed whip. Again, he knew the blow from this particular one could be made to give only a small amount of pain, just enough to torment the girl.

She wanted him to make her scream. He wanted her to beg for it.

Spike trailed his hand over her bottom before he brought down the whip, smacking her just above the junction of her thighs. She arched towards him, gasping.

"I want harder," she told him, her body tense.

"You'll get harder when I'm ready to give it to you," Spike replied, his eyebrow arched. "Now shut your gob and let me give you a proper spanking."

Buffy responded by turning her head back towards him and sticking out her tongue.

Spike wagged his finger at her. "That's not working on me, missy. I don't care how much you try to piss me off, I'm not giving you what you want until I'm good and ready. Personally, I like slowly making your arse all nice an' red. It's quite lovely really."

Buffy pouted. "But Spike…"

"You keep that up, pet, and I'm going to take you all slow and gentle like. Is that what you want?"

"Please, no…not that, Spike. Not tonight."

"Then you be quiet and let me have my fun."

Buffy turned back around to face the headboard again. Spike knew she was still pouting, but he'd let it slide now since she'd stopped her complaining.

"Such a bossy lil' chit," he said as he brought the whip back down, then trailed it slowly across her skin. "Chained up and still thinks she can get her way."

Buffy whimpered. Spike hit her again.

Spike kept the blows steady, never varying the pace or speed. Her skin reddened, and he knew it stung, but he also knew it wasn't enough to satisfy her demon.

Buffy was panting and writhing, her body tense from frustration. However, her juices continued to seep out onto the bed, and Spike knew for all of her complaining, this was getting her hot.

Time to up it just a bit.

He stayed with the small whip, though now he sped his movements, the whip's tails whistling through the air before smacking her skin with a satisfying crack. Buffy cried out with each blow, her body bucking as the marks on her flesh grew darker.

Still, he'd yet to break the skin, and Buffy had reached the point of desperation. "Spike, please!" she yelled, her whole body shaking.

"What do you want, Buffy?" he asked, still whipping her. "Beg me for what you want."

"The cane…hit me with the cane. Please, Spike. Please!"

How could he turn down such a request? He dropped the whip and grabbed the cane, using it to strike the bound vampire harshly. She screamed as he raised bloody welts on her ass, back, and thighs, her body bucking violently.

"Is that what you wanted?" Spike asked, as he made a particularly hard strike. "Is this what you needed me to do?"

"Yes!" Buffy screamed. "Oh, Spike, yes!"

He smacked her a few more times before he threw the cane to the ground and jumped on top of her, slamming into her soaking pussy in one hard stroke. His skin rubbed against her, irritating the cuts on her flesh, and she moaned, relishing the pain.

She was strangling his cock, spasming from the intensity of the orgasm coursing through her. Spike knew he'd never last long, not like this, and he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up as far as he could, then leaning in to sink his fangs into her neck, tasting her blood as he filled her with his seed.

Her orgasm bled into another and then another until finally he let her go and collapsed over her body, licking her wounds gently. She continued to shake, panting out harsh breaths with useless lungs.

"I love you," Spike murmured against her torn skin. "Love you so much, Buffy."

She sighed in bliss, her limbs limp in the chains. "I love you, too."

*** *** ***

Giles wasn't sure why he was surprised the Watchers' Council had sent Kendra to Sunnydale. After all, it was the most active Hellmouth and was therefore in need of an equally-active Slayer, but it surprised him nonetheless.

And now, watching her train with her Watcher, using methods and weapons he'd once used himself to train Buffy, well, all it did was highlight for him just how much his Slayer was gone.

He supposed he should take it as a sign that it was time for him to return to England. Buffy was dead; there was nothing for him here. It was time for him to accept he had fulfilled his duty, and yet, he couldn't seem to bring himself to leave.

Furthermore, upon Kendra's arrival, her Watcher had informed Giles that the Council's orders were that the first thing Kendra should focus on in her new post was to eliminate the tainted Slayer. The words had made him bristle, a part of him crying out at the idea of destroying what was left of Buffy, but he'd forced himself to push those thoughts away.

Buffy was dead. It wouldn't make her any more dead should the vampire using her body become dust. His Slayer—the girl he loved as a daughter—was already dead. Perhaps if Kendra was able to perform this part of her duty now, it could allow Buffy some peace.

He had yet to see her—not in his waking hours at least. Though in his dreams, he saw her every night. Her face danced before him in the dark, demonic ridges marring her youthful face.

Giles had failed her, and for that, he'd never forgive himself. She'd gone out that night because of him, had sought out Angelus because of him. She'd left him a letter before she'd gone, explaining she wanted to get the justice for Jenny he'd been unable to take, to right the wrongs she saw as caused by her teenaged passions.

Because of him, his Slayer was dead, and for that, Rupert Giles could never forgive himself.

*** *** ***

IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT POSTINGDue to real life issues (namely, a promotion that's going to give me less free time), I'm going to have to cut back on posting. I'm hoping I can still post once a week, and I'm planning to update this story on Thursdays. Since I'm still not sure how much of my time the new position is going to take up, I can't make any guarantees right now, but I'm hoping to be able to get a chapter out a week. If I can't, or the chapter comes late, please be understanding. Fanfiction doesn't come first in my life, and I have to pay my bills. Do know, however, that I have no intention of abandoning my stories, and I will do everything I can to keep getting new chapters up in a timely manner.

Please review!

They had just left their crypt for their nightly hunt when Spike felt Buffy tug on his arm and pull him behind a mausoleum. "What?" he asked.

Buffy put her finger to her lips, signaling for him to be quiet before she mouthed, "Slayer."

Spike's eyes widened. "Here?" he mouthed back.

Buffy nodded, then pointed, and Spike discreetly peeked out over the mausoleum's corner. There, walking through their cemetery was the girl he recognized as being the second Slayer he'd fought during the ritual to restore Drusilla.

He never had quite understood why there'd been two Slayers there anyway, and he figured now wasn't the time to ask. Later, after this still-living Slayer was no longer a threat.

Buffy stood up on her tiptoes and whispered against Spike's ear. "Kill her for me, baby. Make her your third."

Spike grinned at her request, all too happy to oblige. He rolled his shoulders and neck, loosening himself up before he stepped from behind the mausoleum, an extra swagger in his step.

"Well, well, well. Lookie what I found."

Kendra turned quickly, her expression emotionless as she drew her stake and dropped into a fighting stance.

"All ready to call a new Slayer then, are you?" Kendra's eyes widened slightly, and Spike chuckled. "Yeah, ducks, I know who you are. And me, I'm the Slayer of Slayers. It's time to add a new notch to my belt." He hooked his thumbs behind his belt buckle and curved his tongue between his teeth, giving Kendra a wink designed to unnerve the Slayer.

It worked, though Kendra fought to keep from showing any reaction to this unorthodox meeting. She ran towards Spike, her stake coming down to plunge into his heart. He stopped her easily, however, and every strike she made after that.

Leaning against the mausoleum wall, Buffy watched the battle, in awe of Spike. He was fighting what should be the biggest predator of their kind, and yet, he was toying with her. He was blocking her every move with a smile on his face, the sheer joy of the fight in his eyes.

Buffy didn't think she'd ever seen him more beautiful.

"Come on now, ducks. Is this the best you can do? I've killed two other Slayers, and both were more of a challenge than you. This fight has been so pathetic, I can't even rightly kill you yet. It would be such a disappointment."

Anger flashed across Kendra's face and she charged again, this time kicking Spike hard enough to make him stagger backwards. He laughed as he righted himself. "Now you're gettin' it!"

"You will die tonight, vampire," Kendra snapped, her anger mounting by the moment.

"Already dead, luv," Spike replied as he hit her hard across the face. "Care to join me?"

Buffy watched as Kendra charged at Spike again, her cool exterior shattered as she gave into the anger Spike had stirred in her. Buffy could tell from the grin on her lover's face that he was delighting in the fight, even when Kendra's blows hit their marks.

Spike loved what he was. He reveled in it. He was a vampire through and through, existing to feed, fight, and fuck.

Buffy felt a rush of feminine pride to be on the arm of such a man.

Like any predator toying with its prey, Spike eventually reached the point where he was ready to end the game. Kendra gasped as he lunged at her with superhuman speed, her wrist snapping as he turned it hard, making her drop her stake.

Kendra tried to remain fighting, but Spike kept her pinned as he held her in a near-crushing grip. His fangs descended, sinking into her throat, and Buffy watched the Slayer's struggles grow weaker as the blood drained from her body.

Spike pulled his head up, even as the girl fought to take shuddering breaths. Blood stained his mouth as he looked over and met Buffy's eyes. "Come on, luv. Feed with me."

Buffy stepped away from the mausoleum to approach Spike and the dying Slayer. Kendra blinked slowly, her brow furrowing as looked at her former sister Slayer.

"Buffy…" Kendra said weakly, a tone of pleading in her voice.

The turned Slayer showed her no mercy. She latched on to one side of Kendra's neck as Spike again began to feed from the other. Together, they drained her dry.

Kendra's body slumped, used, to the ground and Spike grabbed Buffy with a snarl, throwing her up against a nearby tree. Within moments, Buffy's skirt was up around her waist and Spike had freed himself from his jeans to allow him to thrust inside of her.

Buffy screamed with pleasure as Spike took her roughly, the fight and the Slayer's blood coursing through his veins making him wild. Tremors of bliss rolled through her, and she cried out in delight as she felt Spike release inside of her, only to remain hard.

With a snarl, he tossed her down face-first onto the ground before mounting her again, puling her up so she was on all fours. Buffy clawed at the dirt, her entire body awash in ecstasy, her mind focused only on the feel of Spike inside of her.

She didn't know how long it was until he roared in release, pulling her up so he could bite her neck as he spilled into her body. They collapsed, panting harshly, and Spike pulled Buffy back over to the tree, leaning against it as he held her in his lap.

Spike stroked her hair, noticing her eyes were trained on the dead Slayer's body. He wondered if perhaps it was too much for her, if she was feeling something now for the fallen Slayer.

"Are you all right, luv?" Spike asked her softly, then brushed a kiss against her temple.

"They sent her to kill me," Buffy replied. "I know they did. That was why she was here."

"Who? Your old mates?"

"Them, the Watchers' Council, all of them." Buffy looked up at Spike, a hard glint in her eyes. "I want to give them a message, let them know who they're really dealing with."

"You got a plan on how to do that?" Spike asked.

Buffy nodded, then got off his lap and straightened her skirt. "Fix your pants and get the body."

Without question, Spike did what she asked.

*** *** ***

Willow had followed Giles into the library that morning, eager to be of some help, even if it was just reshelving books. The longer Buffy was gone, the more useless she felt, and she was willing to do anything to ease that feeling.

When she heard Giles cry out as he opened the door to his office, Willow knew she shouldn't have rushed over the way she did. Yet she'd moved on instinct, going to his side without thinking.

What she saw made her blood run cold.

Kendra was hanging from the wall, with what appeared to be railroad spikes driven through her hands. Her chest was split open, and her heart was beneath her feet.

Through it, was Kendra's own stake.

Willow turned and tried to run, though she stumbled and caught herself on the edge of the front desk. She stopped, gripping the edge as her arms trembled.

She stiffened for a moment when she felt Giles place his hand against her back, then her shoulders slumped. "I can't believe Buffy would do something like that, even as a vampire. It seems so…" Willow trailed off, not able to find a word to describe the sight of Kendra's body.

"I know. I'm not even sure this was her doing."

Willow turned around to face him, though she kept one hand still on the desk, not trusting her own legs to keep her upright. "You don't?"

"Well, I'm not sure. The use of railroad spikes would suggest, well, Spike."

"Buffy killed him, didn't she? After he tried to kill Angel to make Drusilla strong again?"

"She dropped an organ on him," Giles replied. "That isn't one of the three surefire ways to kill a vampire. Perhaps this was his way of letting us know he isn't gone. Kendra was a Slayer…" Giles swallowed hard. He knew that even with the use of the spikes, it was more than likely Buffy had played some part in the Slayer's death. He had read up on Spike when the blond vampire had first arrived in Sunnydale, and in neither of the accounts of the deaths of Slayers attributed to him had the body been displayed in such a gruesome manner. From a psychological standpoint, it would make sense for Buffy to rebel against her former Calling in such a manner, and the thought made Giles feel cold inside.

As did the implication that, were this the case, she had possibly teamed up with the Slayer of Slayers himself.

"I can't take this anymore, Giles," Willow said, pulling the Watcher back into the moment. "I can't stand not knowing what she's doing, if she's planning something, and I really can't stand being afraid of Buffy. I feel so helpless."

"I know," Giles replied simply, nothing else he could say. He did know. He felt the same way himself.

"I was hoping Kendra would just find her and stake her." Willow shook her head. "I feel horrible for wanting that, but I'd rather know Buffy was really gone than to have to think about her going around like a monster now."

Giles gripped Willow's shoulder. "It would be better for her than what she is now. Buffy wouldn't want to be like this. She…"

"It was her greatest nightmare," Willow said quietly.

"Yes, I remember." Giles added silently to himself, "And mine as well."

"I think about her all the time," Willow replied, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I don't want to, not like that, but I can't help it. She's a monster, Giles, and she didn't want to be one. She didn't, and it isn't fair!"

As Willow began to cry harder, Giles pulled her into an embrace, trying to comfort her even as his own pain threatened to tear him apart.

*** *** ***

After seeing Kendra's body, Willow went through most of the day in a fog. The police had come to the school, yet classes had not been cancelled. Death had long since become routine at Sunnydale High.

Once the last bell had rung, she went back to the computer science classroom, wanting to get the projects the students had turned in earlier so she could hurry home before dark and grade them. The discs were sitting on a basket on her desk, and Willow picked them up, cursing as several of them slipped from her fingers.

Willow bent down beside the desk, picking up the dropped discs. She spotted one almost out of her reach, and she reached for it, stretching her fingers out until she could touch it. With a small smile of satisfaction, Willow pulled it out, only to frown again when she saw it.

The outside of the disc was blank, and Willow sighed. "Who forgot their name this time," she wondered aloud as she pushed the disc into the computer's A drive.

As soon as Willow looked at the files on the disc, she noticed something was different. The assignment had been to make a PowerPoint presentation, yet none were on the disc. Instead, there was a strange icon for a type of file she didn't recognize. Curiosity overwhelming her, she clicked on it.

A program started up, a black window appearing, only to be covered with strange characters. Willow watched as they changed before her eyes, then gasped as realization dawned on her.

This was it! This was the Curse!

Willow blinked, almost expecting it to disappear before her eyes, but it didn't. Everything was there: the ingredients for the spell, the incantation, exactly how to set it up. Ms. Calendar must've gotten it translated before her death, she realized.

With hope inside of her for the first time since Buffy had come to her house several nights earlier, Willow removed the disc from the computer, holding it tightly in her trembling hands. She checked the clock, seeing that she had enough time before dusk to make it to the magic shop and then home.

Projects forgotten, Willow hurried from the classroom.

She could do this.

She could make it right again.

*** *** ***

There will be no posts next week, as I will be going out of town for Thanksgiving. Sorry! (And yes, I realize that was a very nasty cliffhanger to announce that right afterwards. Please keep all projectiles to yourself…)

Than you to everyone who congratulated me on the promotion. I really appreciated it. :)

Please review!

As the sun set outside the crypt, Buffy woke, stretching languidly against Spike. After they'd left Kendra at the library, Spike had dragged her back home, where he'd shown her just how much of an aphrodisiac Slayer's blood truly was.

She still ached, and yet, it had been the best night of her life.

Buffy looked up to see Spike smiling down at her, and she smiled back. "Good evening, kitten," he said, his voice rumbling through her and making her tremble.

Buffy stretched against him again, smiling as she felt him react to the closeness of her body. "Last night was amazing," she told him as she ran her finger down his chest.

"You won't get any argument from me there," Spike replied with a smile.

"You finally got your third Slayer. Feeling proud of yourself?"

"Yeah, I am," Spike replied honestly. "Though I have found something better than killing a Slayer."

"Oh?" Buffy asked, her eyebrow arched. "What's that?"

Spike's eyes darkened with lust as he rolled her over and pinned her body beneath his. "Fucking one."

He thrust into her hard, making Buffy cry out in ecstasy.

*** *** ***

Willow sat in her room, everything ready for the spell. The magic shop in Sunnydale had just happened to have one crucial, yet rare item for the curse—an Orb of Thesulah. When the shopkeeper had told Willow it was one of the few left in the world, she felt it must've been fate that it was waiting there for her.

Her hands trembled as she picked up the piece of paper she'd printed off with Jenny Calendar's translation.

"Are you sure we shouldn't tell Giles about this? I feel like he should be here to like, I don't know, supervise or something," Cordelia said from beside Willow, where she stood with burning incense.

"No, I don't want to get his hopes up in case it doesn't work," Willow replied. "Just wave the incense, okay?"

She also didn't want him to try to stop her, try to tell her she shouldn't be invoking these sorts of powers. Willow knew she could do this…

She had to do this…

"I also don't see why we're even doing this in this first place," Cordelia continued. "I mean, she killed Xander. Shouldn't we just sta…"

Willow turned towards Cordelia, a look flashing in her eyes that made the brunette grow immediately, uncharacteristically silent. "That wasn't Buffy. That was the demon who took over her body. We have to make her Buffy again."

"Uh, one question," Oz said from Willow's other side, one hand raising slightly as the other gripped a large, old book. "I don't know Latin. Is that going to be a problem?"

"You don't have to understand it, you just have to read it," Willow replied. "Let's do this. Buffy needs our help now."

The room grew silent for a moment before Oz's intoned, "Quod perditum est, invenietur."

Willow took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Not dead, nor of the living. Spirits of the interregnum, I call…"

*** *** ***

Buffy savored the taste and feel of the warm blood as it slid down her throat, reveled the sounds of the girl as she cried.

Their meal for the night was sandwiched between her and Spike as they fed from her, and Buffy stretched her arm out to hold on to her lover.

The girl made one final sound, something between a sigh and a whimper as her heart came to a stop. Buffy lapped at her neck, enjoying the last drops of blood.

Then, it hit her…

She cried out, stumbling backwards and to the ground. Something went through her and she shook, unbearable pain surging in her.

She gasped, blinked, watched as Spike dropped the girl, and the body seemed to hit the ground of the dirty alley in slow motion.

Spike was calling her name, but it barely registered in Buffy's mind. Her gaze was fixated on the body, on the unblinking, dead eyes.

The girl was dead. She had killed her.

Buffy jumped up, scrambling to get away as she felt suddenly trapped. Revulsion filled her, the horror at what she'd done foremost in her mind.

And not just this girl… There had been others. Some faceless, some not.

Kendra. Xander.

Oh god, she'd killed her best friend…

She looked up at Spike, saw the concern in his eyes, yet all she could think of was the atrocities they'd committed together. He reached for her, and Buffy pulled away.

She couldn't take this; it was too much.

She ran.

Her legs moved with inhuman speed as she ran blindly through the night, no thoughts as to where she was going. The waves of disgust moving over her threatened to bring her down and she stumbled, only to right herself and keep going.

Suddenly, she was brought to a stop, strong arms holding her in place. She struggled yet couldn't escape, and finally, she slumped, still. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she shook as she cried.

Spike turned her in his arms, holding her against his chest, trying his best to soothe her. Sobs wracked her tiny frame, and he was at a loss to figure out what was wrong with her.

"Buffy? Talk to me, sweetheart. Please…"

She said nothing, even when he begged her a second time, then a third. Finally, Spike scooped her up, cradling her body against his chest as he walked back towards their crypt.

Spike brought her to their bed, lying her down before he joined her, holding her close to him. The only sounds she made were soft, choked sobs, and he tightened his embrace, worry filling him.

*** *** ***

"Okay, now that was freaky."

Oz gave Cordelia a quick glance before he turned his attention back to Willow. "Are you sure you're okay? That got pretty weird there for a bit."

"I'm fine," Willow said through labored breaths. "It was…" She blinked and looked up at Oz. "I felt something go through me, some ancient power. It worked. I know it did. I can feel it."

"So what do we do now?" Oz asked her, taking her hand.

"We wait for Buffy to come home," Willow replied. "With her soul back, she'll be herself again, and she'll come back." She blinked, the world seeming to spin. "Though right now, I think I need a little rest…"

Willow started to tip over, but Oz caught her and picked her up. "Easy now. Let's get you to bed."

As Oz tucked Willow in, he couldn't shake the feeling things weren't going to be as simple now as his girlfriend seemed to believe.

*** *** ***

Buffy didn't know how long she'd lain there. She'd stared blankly ahead, the horrors she'd inflicted over the past few weeks playing over and over again in her mind.

She was a murderer, a monster.

A vampire.

It hadn't taken her long to realize why she felt the way she did now. She had a soul. Someone must've found a way to recreate the curse that had been placed on Angel and used it on her.

She couldn't keep going like this. Without her soul, she knew she'd been happy with what she was. It horrified her to realize that now, but what was done was done. She was a vampire, and she could never go back to being human ever again.

If she had to be a vampire, Buffy didn't want to it to be like this…

She turned to Spike, startling him. "Do you love me?" she asked him, her eyes wild.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Buffy? Of course I love you, pet. I…"

"So this is real? What we have? We…we can have real love?"

"Yes. Why…"

Buffy silenced him with a hard kiss, her fingers already working to undo his belt and pop the buttons of his jeans. Spike broke away from her mouth, stilling her hands with his own. "Luv, you're frightening me. Tell me what's wrong. Please…"

"We have to have sex," Buffy replied as she pulled her hands away from his and finished freeing his cock. He groaned, hardening as she began to stroke him, though his mind was racing.

"Buffy…" Spike tried again, only to break off with another groan as Buffy pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist, quickly hiking up her skirt so she could take him inside.

She set a punishing rhythm, and Spike held on to her hips, unable to do anything but give in to the pleasure of her body.

"Spike…" Buffy moaned as she bucked on top of him. "Make me come. Please, I need…please…"

With a growl, Spike flipped them over, pounding into Buffy hard enough to make bed shake and creak. Buffy cried out, grabbing his shoulders as she pitched her hips up to meet his thrusts, rubbing her pelvis against his in a desperate need for friction.

Buffy mewled in frustration, her orgasm seeming just out of reach. She couldn't concentrate, couldn't push back the guilt eating away at her, and she closed her eyes and shook her head in a desperate attempt to force it back.

Spike felt her growing tense beneath him, and he propped himself up on one arm so he could reach between their bodies with the other to find her clit. He rubbed quick circles against it, knowing exactly what always managed to set her off.

He didn't fail this time. The pleasure overwhelmed her, and Buffy succumbed to it, calling Spike's name in the height of physical ecstasy. She felt Spike release inside of her body, and she held on to him, waiting for the soul to leave her again.

It didn't.

Spike pulled out of her and rolled to the side, and still, the guilt raged inside of her, seeming to grow now with the knowledge she'd tried to rid herself of it. She started to panic, but then, she remembered something: it didn't leave immediately with Angel, either.

There'd been time afterwards, for cuddling and soft whispers. She'd fallen asleep in his arms before the soul had gone away at all. Perhaps there was a delay, time needed for the curse to break.

She lay there beside Spike in the damp cold of the crypt and waited. She'd done what she was supposed to do; the soul should be leaving now.

Only it didn't.

Time passed and still, the soul stayed fast. Despair threatened to overtake her as she realized it wasn't going to go. Sex with Spike hadn't given her that moment of true happiness, which Buffy knew could only mean one thing.

What they had wasn't really love.

Never before had she felt so alone, so empty. She was dead, trapped inside the cold body of a corpse. The guilt of the sins she'd committed threatened to break her newly-restored soul, and now, she no longer even had the one true comfort she'd thought she'd be afforded after her turning.

She turned to Spike, her heart breaking as she realized what she'd thought had been between them couldn't be real. It was some sort of sick infatuation between demons—nothing more. He was looking at her now with what must be false concern in his eyes, not more than the echo of a human emotion.

Spike didn't love her.

She jumped from the bed and ran into the shadows of the crypt, where she collapsed, unable to stop herself from crying again. Spike got up, fixing his jeans before he went to her, kneeling down so he could place his hand on her shoulder.

"Buffy? Pet, what is this? What's wrong?"

"Don't touch me," Buffy snapped, pulling away from him. "Don't ever touch me again!"

Spike recoiled. "Buffy? What…?"

"Leave me alone."

At a loss, Spike backed away, going over to the edge of the bed where he sat and watched her, wishing he knew how to make whatever was wrong with her better.

It broke his heart to see her cry.

*** *** ***

Yes, here comes the angst. Hopefully, you'll be willing to stick with me. If you're not, don't yell at me.

Please review.

"The curse. Angel is meant to suffer, not to live as human. One moment of true happiness, of contentment, one moment where the soul that we restored no longer plagues his thoughts, and that soul is taken from him"
—Enyos, "Innocence

**** *** ***

She'd never known anguish like this. Only a few hours earlier, she'd been happier than she'd ever been before. She'd been free from the burdens of the world and been fully convinced she'd found love.

Now, it was all gone. Shattered. The world weighed heavier on her shoulders than it ever had before, and she knew that love had been no more than an illusion.

How could she go through an eternity of this? Less than a day, and it was already too much.

The answer was simple—she couldn't. Maybe it made her weak, but if she was going to have to be this forever, then she needed to end things. What did it really matter?

She was dead anyway.

Calmly, she rose to her feet and walked towards the ladder, making her way back up to the upper level of the crypt. Her eyes stayed forward, focused on the door, and when her hand grasped the handle, it didn't tremble.

She'd see the sun one last time…

A deep breath into useless lungs, and she stepped out.

It happened so quickly, she didn't register the action until the heavy door slammed shut. She gasped, pulled herself up from the spot Spike had thrown her when he'd pulled her back into the crypt, and ran back for the door. Spike intercepted her this time, grabbing Buffy around the waist and holding her with her arms pinned to the side.

Buffy kicked her legs as he lifted her up and screamed, "Let me go! I want to go out!"

"You can't! It's the middle of the sodding day!" Spike yelled back, tightening his grip on her. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Buffy screamed again in futile rage, thrashing against his hold as angry tears streamed down her cheeks. Spike's jaw tightened, and he didn't say another word as he brought Buffy back down to their bed.

She didn't realize what he was doing until it was too late and the first manacle was around her wrist. Only a moment later, and the second was in place as well. She struggled and screamed again in frustration.

"I'm sorry, baby," Spike told her, genuine regret in his eyes as he sat down beside her and stroked her cheek. "I don't want to do this, but you're scaring me. I can't let you go out. You'll dust."

"That's what I want!" Buffy yelled, jerking away from him. "I want it to end!"

Spike reared back, blinking. "Buffy, sweetheart, what is this?"

"I'm not your sweetheart," Buffy snapped. "I'm not your anything." Realizing the manacles weren't going to give, even with her superior strength, she slumped, tears in the corners of her eyes as she turned away from Spike.

"Pet, I don't…" Spike started to reach back towards her, but stopped and let his hand drop. His eyes widened, and he stared at her for a moment before he whispered, "Buffy…your soul. They gave you back your soul."

Buffy flinched at his words. "Yes, they did," she admitted softly, her shoulders slumped. She ventured a glance back at him. "So let me go, Spike. You can't possibly want me anymore anyway. Not like this."

"Oh, kitten…" His words, his touch, were so gentle when he reached for her again that Buffy couldn't help but fall against him, letting him cradle her against his chest. She knew this wasn't real—couldn't­ be real—but she needed it all the same.

"We can fix it, pet," Spike said, his cheek resting against her hair. "This can be undone. How did Angel lose his?"

Buffy swallowed. "He…I…" She paused, gulped in air. "We had sex. It's…it's a moment of happiness that breaks the curse. We loved each other, so when we had sex…" She trailed off, unable to say anymore.

Spike stiffened, though he didn't release her from his embrace. "And when we had sex…"

"It didn't go away," Buffy finished, letting the unspoken we're not in love hang between them.

His lips pressed against her hair, breathing her in for a moment before he whispered, "I love you, Buffy."

With a shake of her head, Buffy replied, "You can't."

"No, pet, I do. I…"

Buffy pushed away from him and scooted towards the headboard, curling up against it with her hands still chained. "Just go."

Spike reached for her again, and she flinched. With a heavy sigh, he walked away.

*** *** ***

Buffy didn't move from her place on the bed. She could hear Spike moving throughout the crypt, but she didn't look at him, and he didn't go to her. Not until nightfall, when he finally released her from the manacles. She rubbed her wrists for a moment, but still didn't move.

"Are you hungry, kitten?"

At Spike's question, Buffy whipped her head around and glared at him. "How dare you ask me that? You want me to kill someone else? Do you have any idea how I feel right now? Oh, that's right, you can't."

Spike's fists clinched at his sides, the muscles in his jaw ticking. He wanted to yell, to shake her, but he reigned in his frustration. He had put up with much worse from Dru and her mood swings. Besides, Buffy had to be hurting, and for that, he was hurting, too.

"I know you don't want to kill anyone, Buffy. I heard enough of Angelus's bitching to know how this soul thing works. I was offering to get something for you."

"So, what, you think I'll be okay with it if I know you're the one that did the murdering?"

Spike let out a heavy sigh. "No. I meant from the sodding butcher. Isn't that what Angel drank? Pig's blood?"

Buffy blinked, her anger with Spike quickly replaced by confusion. "What…what are you doing?"

"Taking care of you. Do I need to chain you back up while I go get dinner?"

"No," Buffy replied with a shake of her head before sinking back against the bed.

Spike ghosted his hand against her hair. "I'll be back soon, lamb. Just don't want things getting worse because you're weak from hunger."

Buffy merely nodded, Spike's warmth and concern shocking her. There had to be more to this. Why didn't he want her gone? Why had he prevented her from going out into the sun instead of kicking her out? She knew what other vampires thought of souls—shouldn't she be tainted to him now?

After he left the crypt, Buffy decided he wasn't going to come back. He'd probably been afraid she'd turn clingy and beg him not to leave her alone, so he'd come up with a ruse to get himself away from her. No vampire would want to be tied down to her, especially one as ruthless as Spike.

He wouldn't come back, and she'd see the sunrise.

So when she felt the bed dip and turned to see Spike handing her a mug of blood, Buffy was surprised. "Why did you come back?" she asked him softly.

"Couldn't leave you, pet. You need someone to take care of you right now, and I know a little something about taking care of people, yeah? Now drink, sweets."

Her hands trembling, Buffy took the mug and raised it to her lips. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, yet she drank anyway.

"Ugh. I guess this swill is an acquired taste."

Buffy frowned at Spike's statement, realizing she wasn't the only one making do with pig's blood that evening. "Why are you drinking it, too?" she asked.

"Would it upset you if I went out and fed, then came back to join you in our bed?" Buffy's flinch was the only answer Spike needed, and he continued. "Look, I don't know how to handle this myself, but right now, I don't want to make things worse for you. You're hurting, sweetheart, and that is more of a problem for me than I think you realize. So if I have to settle for this until we suss it all out, then I will."

Buffy swallowed with difficulty, forcing the pig's blood down her throat. "I don't understand why you're doing this."

"Because I love you, sweetheart. You can believe it or not, but I do. You scared me this morning when you ran, made me think of how it would be if I lost you now. I spent over a century searching for you, Buffy, and I'll be damned all over again if I toss it all away in a blink."

"I'm not that girl you think you love anymore, Spike," Buffy said, her eyes trained on the inside of her now-empty mug. "I can't be, not like this."

"Yeah, pet, you are." Spike set his own mug down before he reached out and took hers. Then, he lifted her up and tucked her in under the covers. "Just rest, kitten," he told her with a kissed brushed against her forehead. "It's early, yeah, but I can tell you're exhausted."

Unshed tears sat in her eyes, his unexpected kindness cutting her now that she knew there could be no real love behind it. The soul forced inside of her pounded inside her chest, threatening to smother her.

"I killed them."

"I know, Buffy. Just rest now."

"They're still screaming, Spike. I can hear them. They're so loud." She whimpered, her hand going up to cover her ear.

"Shh… No, baby. It's quiet here. Just you an' me, lamb." Spike moved her hand away from her ear and stroked her hair. "Just sleep now. You need to sleep."

Buffy whimpered again, but her eyes closed, and it wasn't long until Spike knew she was indeed asleep. He pulled his hand away from her, cold fear rushing through him as he finally let the situation settle onto him.

What were they going to do now?

*** *** ***

The sound of Buffy's tears woke Spike. She was huddled in a ball, shaking, and Spike reached for her, his hand resting gently against her cool flesh.

Buffy jerked, sliding out of his reach, and Spike didn't move to bring her back. Listening to her cry in the dark, he felt so helpless.

He'd been telling the truth when he'd told her how much watching her dash towards the sun had scared him. He knew they had spent only a short time together, especially given the number of years he'd been in the world, but she'd touched him in a way no other woman ever had. She'd shown him what it was to be loved.

Spike knew he could've lost that now. Her vehemence against his own declarations of love told him that much. Despite common misconceptions, he was far from a stupid man, and he knew everything had changed for them in an instant. She couldn't be the sort of partner for him she'd been in the days since she'd put an end to Angelus.

Yet she was still Buffy. Soul or no soul behind them, those were still the eyes that looked upon him as if he was truly everything to her. He couldn't turn his back on her, not when she needed him. He owed it to her to stand by her after what she'd given him, even if he'd lost her love forever.

So he'd do what he could to keep her calm, keep her from running towards the sun again. All he could do now was take it one moment at a time, and Spike had reverted to his behavior from when Dru was at her worst. He knew the situation was different, but she was still volatile now, just as his sire had been, and he could deal with that aspect of it at least. Maybe, in time, she'd get over the initial shock of having her soul returned, and they could move on from there.

Until then, he'd have to tread softly.

Her tears dug into his unbeating heart, and Spike was unable to keep himself from moving to her and pulling her into his arms. She thrashed against him, trying to escape his embrace, but Spike didn't let her go.

"Shh…easy now, pet. It's just you an' me here. This doesn't have to mean anything except you need someone to hold you, and I've got two arms, yeah?"

Buffy's struggles ceased, and Spike held on to her tighter.

*** *** ***

Please review.

Spike had been awake for a while already that evening, just listening to Buffy as she cried. She'd moved back over to the other side of the bed, and he was hesitant to pull her back. He'd slept lightly, moving in and out of consciousness with the little sleep her did manage wrought with restlessness

The sunset brought with it no more answers. If anything, Spike felt even more lost than he had been before. The physical and emotional gap between them now had him once again on the edge of a panic. What if she didn't get better? What if this cursed soul kept eating away at her, wore her down until she was completely broken?

He remembered what it had been like when Drusilla was at her worst, how it had felt to worry constantly about whether or not she was going to deteriorate even further, or if he was finally going to lose her. He wasn't sure if he could go through that a second time, though he knew, still, he'd be damned all over again before he left Buffy's side.

Buffy's tears were constant, yet every one cut into his heart. He couldn't keep listening to her breaking like this; it was more than he could take.

Spike pulled Buffy back to him, tightening his arms around her when she struggled.

"Shh… I just want to hold you. It wasn't so bad last night, was it, baby? Let me hold you, lamb. Please…"

He felt her give in right before she turned around to bury her face against his chest. She kept crying, but at least with her crying in his arms, Spike didn't feel so helpless.

Spike stroked her hair and back, his lips against her skin as he whispered to her.

"I love you, Buffy."

*** *** ***

Willow had thought things were going to start heading back towards normal again as soon as she did the spell to restore Buffy's soul. She'd been certain that once Buffy was good again, she'd come back and want to be part of her old life again.

Yet two days had passed, and Willow hadn't heard anything from Buffy. She'd hardly slept, afraid she'd miss her friend when she came, yet there had been no sign of Buffy anywhere.

Willow was growing steadily more nervous until she'd convinced herself Buffy was in some sort of trouble. She had to be—it was the only reason Willow could fathom for why Buffy hadn't come back, full of gratitude for what Willow had done to save her.

Angel had never gotten along with other vampires, that much Willow knew. The soul had set him apart, made him an outcast from the rest of what was once his kind. With Buffy now cursed, surely she would be at odds with other vampires in the same way—probably more so since she had been a Slayer. Buffy was good again, so she would, of course, automatically be the enemy of all things evil.

Furthermore, Kendra's death and the way her body had been displayed had led Giles to believe Spike was still around, and Willow was inclined to agree. Spike had wanted to kill Buffy when she was the Slayer, so surely he'd be after her now that she was an ensouled vampire.

Willow knew not just any vampire would be able to hurt Buffy, and Spike seemed like the obvious choice to not only be the one to try, but to be the one to succeed as well. Perhaps even Angelus, too, since Willow was sure Buffy must have been with him after she was turned. Would seeing Buffy cursed the same way he had once been anger Angelus enough to make him hurt her?

Looking at the situation now, Willow realized she hadn't thought her plan through as well as she should have. With her soul returned, Buffy was, well, Buffy again—and quite possibly at the mercy of Spike and Angelus.

The more she thought about that, the more worked up Willow became, fear making her heart pound. She should have found some way to protect Buffy before she'd restored her soul, but she hadn't, and now her friend was probably suffering—possibly even gone.

No, Willow decided—she wasn't going to believe that. Buffy may be in trouble, but she could still help her. It was what best friends did.

Willow knew she couldn't waste any more time waiting. She needed to save Buffy.

It was time for her to tell Giles what she had done.

*** *** ***

"You need to eat, baby."

Buffy stayed with her back to Spike, ignoring him as he stood beside the bed, mug of pig's blood in hand.

"Come on, luv. You'll get weak if you don't eat. It's animal blood, Buffy, just like before. No humans hurt for it at all. I'll eat with you again, if it'll help. Come on now."

"I'm not hungry."

Despite the fact it was a continued refusal, Spike was relieved simply to hear Buffy talk. At least it was a step in the right direction.

"You'll feel better if you eat, baby. You haven't fed all day—even if you don't want it, you need it."

"No."

Spike wasn't going to give up. He couldn't let her slip into this, couldn't let her fall so deep she wouldn't be able to crawl back out. He sat down on the bed and moved close to Buffy with the mug of blood, hoping to entice her with the scent. "Come on, luv. Drink it for me?"

For a moment, Buffy was completely still. Spike waited, his hand gripped tightly around the handle of the mug. Then, he let out a sigh of relief when Buffy rolled over and sat up before she took the mug from him.

"You said you'd drink some with me."

Her face and her words were so pitiful, Spike wished he could take her pain away. If one of them had to suffer like this, he'd rather it be him. She didn't deserve it… He cupped her cheek, favoring her with a soft smile. "I will, luv. Give me a moment to go upstairs and get some, yeah?"

Buffy nodded, and Spike was glad to see she didn't pull away from his hand. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before getting up and fixing himself his own mug of blood, working quickly so he could get back to Buffy before the winds changed and her compliance ended.

She was still seated on the bed when he came back down to the crypt's lower level, her hands wrapped around her mug though she hadn't drank any of the blood. "Waiting for me, luv?" Spike asked as he joined her.

"Yeah," Buffy said softly.

"Well, I'm here now." Spike tapped his mug against hers. "Cheers, pet."

With a small smile that went straight to his unbeating heart. Buffy raised her mug to her lips.

*** *** ***

"You did what? What the bloody hell were you thinking?!"

Willow had imagined several different responses from Giles to telling him she'd restored Buffy's soul. This, however, was not one of them. She took a moment to respond, blinking back the surprise that Giles didn't seem to understand she'd done what she had to do. "I was thinking I had to save Buffy."

"By cursing her? Willow, of all the students in this school, I thought you would be the one with more sense than that." Giles stood up from the library table and began to pace, fidgeting nervously with his glasses as he did. "Even beyond the ramifications this could have for Buffy is the fact that you were playing with forces even an experienced witch could have difficulty in harnessing. For a novice such as yourself to…"

Willow's back went rigid, her confusion pushed out of the way by her wounded pride. "I handled them just fine, Giles."

Giles stopped, turning around to face Willow down. "You have no way of knowing that. You don't see the ramifications here!"

"You're the one who isn't seeing!" Willow countered. "This was the only way, Giles! I had to make her Buffy again."

"She's not going to bloody be Buffy!" Giles yelled, making Willow shrink back. "She's a vampire now. Nothing can change that. All you've done is ensure that she suffers!"

Willow refused to back down, even in the face of Giles's anger. She knew she had done what she had to do to help her friend. The soul had made all the difference between Angel and Angelus, after all. "I don't think you're right about this, Giles. In fact, I think you're very, very wrong."

Giles met Willow's eyes, his gaze unwavering for a moment before he pulled back. "Then you're a very stupid girl."

Willow bristled. "No, I'm not. You're the one being stupid here! Giles, I came to you because Buffy has to be in trouble. Someone must've gotten her—hurt her. It's the only reason she wouldn't have come back to us after I gave her her soul back!"

She'd expected him to soften then, the idea of Buffy being in danger brining him out of whatever bit of craziness he was in now. Instead, he began to laugh, the strange, mirthless sound making Willow wince. "In trouble? That's what you think? Any bloody trouble she's in now is because of you did to her!"

"No! Giles…I think it's Spike. He must've gotten her. You…you said you thought he killed Kendra."

A strange look went over Giles's face, one Willow couldn't quite place. "No, Willow, I don't think Buffy's in danger from Spike at all."

"But… She's not home! She has to be in trouble. We have to do something."

"I think you've done enough," Giles snapped. "Go home, Willow."

"But…"

"I bloody said go home!"

The look on his face and the tone in his voice made the hairs on the back of Willow's neck stand up. She grabbed her books and ran from the library, deciding Giles was not going to be the source of support she'd thought he would be.

Once she was gone, Giles sunk down in a chair, an anguished sob wrenched from him.

*** *** ***

Spike couldn't decide which was worse—listening to her cry or watching her stare blankly at nothing in the in between times.

Both tore at his heart.

She only ate when he prodded her, and even then, he knew it wasn't enough. He'd tried coaxing her to sleep at first, but any sleep she did find was so plagued with nightmares that Spike had eventually relented and allowed her to stay awake.

The crying had to be better than the screaming, didn't it?

He didn't know.

At some point, she'd stopped talking completely. Any response from her was few and far between, and at times, Spike didn't think she was there with him at all.

He was losing her. The thought filled every inch of him with sheer terror, but it didn't change the fact of the matter. Buffy was slipping further and further away, and from what she screamed in her sleep, Spike was afraid Buffy was headed straight into insanity.

He could deal with an insane girlfriend he knew—that much was a proven fact—but it wasn't what he wanted for Buffy. She'd been so vibrant, so alive, even in death. She was wasting away right in front of him, and Spike couldn't handle it.

Not because he didn't want to go back to playing nursemaid. He'd do that without a second's hesitation. No, it wasn't for him at all.

It was for her.

Buffy deserved better than this.

After days of watching her waste away, Spike finally accepted the fact he couldn't do this on his own. Buffy was clearly not accepting his love, and he couldn't help but notice the way she would sometimes flinch at his slightest touch.

She needed someone she could trust, and as much as it pained him to admit, Spike didn't think that was him anymore.

So when Buffy fell into another uneasy sleep, Spike slipped from the crypt in search of someone who could help.

*** *** ***

This is probably going to be my last post until after the New Year. I'm sorry, but I just can't right now. I would ask that you all try to be patient and respect that I need a little break, and I hope you'll all join me again in early 2007.

Rupert Giles didn't leave the library, even after the school had emptied and the sun had disappeared over the horizon. He knew he should go home, spend the night someplace where an invitation was needed to cross the threshold before he met the same fate as his beloved Jenny. Yet instead, he retrieved a well-aged bottle of Scotch from his desk and let it try to give him the one type of comfort he could know anymore.

Cold.

He didn't look up when he saw someone standing in the doorway of his office—the flash of black leather and platinum hair made it more than apparent who had come calling—nor did the appearance of the vampire cause Giles to reach for his stake. Instead, he slumped further into his chair, resigned. What did he have to live for anymore anyway?

"I won't put up a fight. All I ask is that you show me enough respect to make it quick."

The response was quick, as if he'd been expecting to make it even before he had to. "I'm not here to kill you, Watcher."

Spike's declaration startled Giles, and then he did turn, looking at the vampire askew for a moment before he realized what he must mean. "Oh. So I'm to be turned then?"

Spike snorted in response. "Hardly. No offense, but I don't fancy spending eternity with a sodding Watcher. I'm just here to talk."

Giles glanced sideways at the bottle on his desk, wondering if perhaps he'd drank enough already to have hallucinations. What could Spike possibly want to talk…

Buffy.

"I can't break the curse, Spike."

"I know."

As Spike's visit continued, Giles found himself growing more and more confused, and he wished now he hadn't had quite so much Scotch. He could use a clear mind for this. "But you are here about Buffy."

"Yeah, I am." Spike moved closer, noting the Watcher's almost-imperceptible flinch as he did. "She's in bad shape. I don't…" He paused for a moment, pulling in a deep breath as he tried to force himself not to appear as vulnerable as he felt. "I don't know what to do to help her."

At that, Giles blinked, and he pulled back further from Spike in surprise. "You want to help her?"

"Of course I do," Spike replied, unable to hide his offended tone. "I love her."

And it just kept getting weirder… Of all the conversations he'd had in his life, Giles was certain this was one of the most surreal. "And what of Drusilla and Angelus?" he asked, the words out of his mouth before he could even contemplate it could possibly be a sore subject and, therefore, not something he'd want to bring up with a vampire, albeit one who didn't seem to be in much of a homicidal mood at the moment.

"They're gone. Dust."

"And Buffy was what, your way to ease that loss?" Again, Giles spoke without completely considering his words, a protective feeling in his heart for his former charge, even now.

Spike slammed his hand against the doorframe, making Giles jump in his chair. "No, dammit! I love Buffy. That's why I'm sodding here. And you better be bloody glad, too, because otherwise, I would've torn your neck out instead of playing this ridiculous game of twenty questions." Spike took another deep breath, getting his anger back in check. Rationally, he knew it was directed at something other than the Watcher—something he could fight with fists and fangs the way he wanted to—but that didn't stop the desire to take it out on whoever may be in his path.

It certainly didn't help matters that he couldn't even feed now with Buffy like this. He was itching for a decent kill.

"You already mentioned the curse, so I know you know what happened to Buffy," Spike said, keeping himself steady.

"I do," Giles replied simply.

Spike cocked his head to the side for a moment, regarding the other man. "You weren't the one who did it, were you?"

Giles let out a near-hysterical bark of laughter. "No. I didn't even know about the bloody thing until this afternoon. It was…" He stopped short, wondering if perhaps all of this was a ruse on Spike's part to learn the identity of the curser in order to perform some sort of act of vengeance. While a small, dark part of him said it would serve Willow right after what she'd done to Buffy, that was a part of him he could never listen to without shame, never mind give into. "It wasn't me."

"Didn't think so," Spike said with a shake of his head. "Wanted to make sure, though. I know we've never had a lot of one-on-one time, but from what I saw, you seemed to have more sense than that."

Giles furrowed his brow. "Yes. Quite."

"So it was the redhead then?"

At that, Giles looked at Spike sharply. If Spike were in search of vengeance, then he had just managed to get the name of who deserved it out of Giles without the Watcher even realizing what was happening. Perhaps he should've have just claimed the blame on Willow's behalf and kept the girl safe.

"Don't get your knickers all twisted, Watcher. I'm not going to kill the girl. I was just wondering who pulled something like that off, is all. I wouldn't have thought she'd have that sort of power."

"No, neither would I," Giles replied with a sad shake of his head.

In the distance, the clock in the tower chimed, reminding Spike of the time. "Look, I don't have all night to discuss this. I don't like leaving her alone."

Giles looked up, meeting the vampire's eyes for the first time. "Cut to the chase then. What do you want from me?"

"I want you to help her."

Him, help Buffy… Giles almost laughed again, though he doubted Spike would see the humor in the situation, and therefore kept it to himself. It was his fault Buffy was in the state she was now, his failure as a Watcher that had gotten her turned in the first place. If she hadn't felt like she'd had a wrong to right where Jenny was concerned… "I don't see what I can possibly do for her now," Giles replied.

"Just talk to her, all right? You were her Watcher. That's gotta still mean something to her. She won't listen to me. Shuts me right out. But maybe you can get through to her, enough to make her realize she can get through this, see that she can keep going on even with the guilt of the soul."

Spike took a step closer, moonlight trickling in through the blinds and painting white lines across his dark figure. "Please, Watcher. I'll get down on my hands and knees and bloody beg you if I have to. I don't know what to do for her, and you're the only person I know to go to for help. Please."

Giles was taken aback by the mixture of desperation and concern in Spike's voice. Although Spike had said what he felt for Buffy twice already, the words hadn't really meant anything to Giles, not until then. He'd known vampires could form attachments to each other, but he'd never dared to think those attachments could be like this. "You…you really do love her, don't you?" he asked, the realization shaking him to his very core.

"Enough to wish it was me going through this instead of her."

Giles nodded solemnly. "I'll talk to her. But if you don't mind, I'd rather it be when I'm a little more, well, rather, er…"

"Sober?" Spike replied, a trace of a smirk on his face.

"Yes."

"Meet me at the gates of Restfield Cemetery tomorrow at sundown."

"I'll be there."

"Good."

With a nod and a swirl of leather, Spike was gone and Giles was once again alone with his Scotch.

*** *** ***

"Where were you?"

Buffy's soft question, seeming too loud in the dark crypt, startled Spike. "I thought you were asleep, sweetheart."

"I woke up. I woke up and you weren't here."

Spike made his way to the bed where Buffy was perched on the edge, his heightened sense of sight allowing him to navigate even in the darkness. "I'm sorry, kitten. I just had something I needed to do is all." He reached out to stroke her hair, but Buffy flinched away, making a pang hit Spike's heart as she did. "What's wrong?"

"Did you feed?"

He almost snapped at her, irritated that she'd have so little faith in him after he told her he wouldn't, but he quickly regained control, reminding himself how emotionally vulnerable she was now. "No, I didn't. You'd be able to smell the blood on me then, wouldn't you, pet?"

"Yeah," Buffy conceded. "I guess I would."

Spike wrapped his arm around her and was relieved when Buffy allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. "I didn't hurt anyone, sweetheart. I told you I wouldn't, and I'm going to honor my word." The nearness of her body calling to him even when he knew the nature of their relationship had changed, at least for the time being, Spike allowed himself one tender kiss atop her head, breathing in the sweet, comforting scent of her golden hair. "I could never do something that would hurt you so much."

For a still, silent moment Buffy was relaxed in his embrace before she stiffened and pulled up. "Why, Spike? You keep telling me things like that, but I still don't understand. Don't you want to feed?"

"Of course I do. I won't lie to you about that. I can't say I exactly relish the thought of giving up the hunt, the kill. But the one thing that I dread more than spending my entire unlife never feeding again is being in a world where I've hurt you. You ask me why I'm doing this, and I'll tell you what I've kept telling you—an answer that's not going to change, no matter what happens. I love you. Completely, totally love you. Doesn't matter if you believe me. Doesn't even matter if you want to believe me. You don't have to love me back. You don't have to give me a bloody thing in return. The truth still remains, just like it is. I love you."

Buffy stared at him, his words turning around in her mind. The crypt was blanketed in shadows, yet she could see his eyes, could see everything he wouldn't try to shield from her, no matter how vulnerable it made him. She knew her heart still belonged to him, even as she struggled with what that meant now. In all her time with Angel, she held fast to one idea; Angel was the man he was—the man who loved her—because he had a soul. But now, everything felt turned on its head, every truth she'd ever clung to no longer making any sense to her.

When she looked at Spike, she felt the same jump in her heart she had when she'd been without a soul. She shied from his touch not because it repulsed her, but because it felt the same as it had before, and she didn't know what that meant anymore. If it was love now, had it been love then? And if it had been, then what did Spike feel for her?

And if it was love, why didn't she lose her soul?

It was all too much for her. These questions, her feelings, they would weigh heavy on her on their own, but mixed with the guilt that stained her restored soul, she couldn't handle it. She'd lamented being the Slayer, but looking back, she longed for that clarity. Everything made sense then. She was good. The demons she fought were bad. It was simple—black and white.

Spike had twisted her world into gray.

She hadn't said a word since he's latest declaration of love, but Spike had expected as much. At least she wasn't outright denying his feelings. He brushed his thumb against her cheek, noticing how she leaned into his touch even though he knew it was most likely not a voluntary action.

"You look tired, pet."

"I am."

"We'll get some sleep then, yeah? Let me hold you?"

Buffy nodded, too tired to protest something she truly wanted anyway. Late at night in the dark of the crypt, what did it really matter if she let Spike hold her—if she let herself pretend nothing had changed? She slipped away from him to lay down, waiting until Spike stripped down to his jeans, then climbed onto the bed to join her. She welcomed his embrace silently, closing her eyes and her mind to anything but the unexpected warmth she found in his cold arms.

*** *** ***

Yes, I am alive. lol I'm going to try to keep this story with regular once a week postings again, with what I'm planning to be a post every Tuesday. With the way my life has been going and as quiet as my muse has been, however, I can't set that as definite.

Please leave a review and let me know you're still with this story despite the hiatus. And honestly, I could really use the encouragement right now. My desire to write is at an all-time low, though I'm really trying to persevere and get through this nasty slump.

Thanks for reading!

Standing alone at the gates of a cemetery in Sunnydale after dark, Giles couldn't help but feel nervous, even with the stake he gripped tightly in his sweaty palm. The whole situation had him on edge, for the obvious reasons as well as all the other ones he'd managed to come up with between Spike's visit to the library the night before and now.

He knew Spike would be less than happy to see him showing up armed, but Giles wasn't about to take the chance it would be to come without the stake in his hand or the second stake and the dagger he had concealed inside his coat. Not only could any number of things attack him while he was waiting, but he still didn't trust Spike, not by a long shot. For all he knew, the vampire had set this up as part of some elaborate plan that would not end well for the Watcher.

Granted, from what he'd seen of Spike's style prior to the fight with Buffy that had incapacitated him for some time, the blonde vampire was not one for elaborate plans—at least not ones that ended anyway like he had wanted. But that knowledge didn't put Giles any at ease. Not when there were so many things to make him uneasy.

Suddenly, he realized he wasn't alone, and Giles jumped slightly, gasping as his eyes met Spike's cool blue gaze. The vampire grinned, flashing white teeth. "A little jumpy there, Jeeves?"

"You do know it's common courtesy to let someone know you're approaching before you just…pop up."

Spike's tongue curled behind his teeth as he rocked slightly on his heels. "Yeah, but that wouldn't be nearly as amusing, now would it?" As quickly as it appeared, his sense of mirth was gone, his expression growing deadly serious. "That stake wouldn't be for her now, would it?"

Giles shook his head. "No. I have no intention of hurting her. But you can't honestly expect me to stand alone in a cemetery on the Hellmouth unarmed, now can you?"

"I suppose not," Spike relented, even as he looked at Giles slightly askance. "Still, I'm here now, so you don't need it. Hand it over."

When Giles did as Spike said, Spike dropped the stake to the ground, then held out his hand. "And whatever you've got in your coat, too, Watcher."

"I don't…" Giles began, but before he could finish his sentence, Spike had reached into the coat in question and pulled out both the stake and the dagger. He dropped the second stake to the ground beside the first, but turned the dagger over in his hands, inspecting it.

"Now this, this is nice. Good handiwork on this thing." Spike slipped the dagger into his duster. "So are we going?"

Giles almost protested the loss of his weapons, but stopped. What difference did it make? He'd come out here tonight, arming himself out of habit, forgetting his own existence meant very little to him any longer. What difference did it make if something got a taste of him that night?

None at all…

He followed Spike through the cemetery, the nervousness that had been with him all evening growing with every step he took. He recognized now that it was not concern for his life that made him feel this way. It was trepidation at facing his own failure.

Fear of seeing what his Slayer had become.

Spike stopped in front of a crypt and wordlessly pushed the door open. Giles stepped inside, unable to help the shiver that passed through him as the heavy door shut behind them.

It was obvious looking around the crypt that more than the peaceful dead made it their home. Candles were lit around the perimeter, bathing it in a soft glow. Among the stone sarcophagi were a worn sofa and a television on one side, while the other contained an older model refrigerator and a microwave. Looking closely, Giles caught power cords running along the floor, tapping into some source he couldn't identify,

"Come on. She's down stairs."

At Spike's declaration, Giles almost asked how to get downstairs before he saw Spike kneel and pull open a trapdoor. The vampire disappeared into it, and with a reluctant sigh, Giles followed.

This was far from the brightest thing he had done in his life.

There were scattered candles in the downstairs, too, yet fewer than the upper level of the crypt, and it took the Watcher's eyes a moment to adjust. Though the floors down there were made of dirt, a variety of expensive-looking rugs had been lain about. Several other pieces of furniture had made their way down there as well, including an antique armoire and a few chairs. The centerpiece of the room, however, was a large, black canopy bed, covered in sheets of blood red silk.

On the center of the bed, sat Buffy. She was pale, so different from the tan California girl Giles was used to, and he knew her lack of color was due to more than her recent change.

As soon as she spotted Giles, Buffy's eyes grew wide, and she scrambled backwards on the bed until she reached the headboard. There, she pulled her knees to her chin and looked down before she began to shake her head violently, her unkempt blonde hair waving in front of her face.

"No…he can't be here…can't see…no…no…"

In a flash, Spike was with her, pulling her into his arms and speaking with a tenderness that surprised the Watcher. Spike stroked her hair as he moved to calm her. "Shh…baby, it's okay. He's here to help you, is all. It's all right."

"He can't see…can't see," Buffy said again, shaking in Spike's arms. "So bad now…can't see. Disgusting…"

As he watched the scene in front of him, Giles felt a pang in his heart. He knew that this Buffy was not the same girl he'd known before. Soul or not, she was a vampire now, and he knew of the things she'd done since her turning. None of them stopped him from hurting for the girl he'd loved as a daughter.

"Buffy?" Giles said softly as he took a tentative step towards the bed. "Buffy, it's all right. You're not disgusting."

Buffy looked up, her large green eyes filled with tears as her lip trembled. "I am…I am." She turned away from Giles again, yelling as she did. "Don't look at me!"

Giles moved closer regardless, hesitating before he put a hand on Spike's shoulder to catch his attention. Spike looked up, met the Watcher's eyes, and though he hesitated for a moment, he soon got up and let the other man take his place. After all, he'd brought him here so he could be the one to speak to Buffy.

Giles sat down on the bed where Spike had been and ran his hand over Buffy's hair. She flinched, but Giles didn't pull away from her. "You could never be disgusting to me, Buffy."

Buffy looked up and sniffled. "I am. I'm a…I'm…" She stopped, unable to say the word in front of Giles.

For his part, Giles was doing all he could not to cry with her, though it was impossible to stop all the tears from slipping onto his cheeks. "I know, but it's okay. I promise you, it's okay." How could he blame her for what she had become when she was what she was because of him?

"Why did you come here?" Buffy asked, her voice small, weak. Then, in almost a whisper, she added, "I didn't want you to see…"

"I came because Spike told me you needed me," Giles answered truthfully, keeping his voice slow and steady. He could tell Buffy's mental state was teetering on the edge, and he wanted nothing more than to help her from falling over into that chasm. He had already failed her once. Perhaps he could make some level of amends for that by helping her regain a part of herself now.

"He shouldn't have done that," Buffy said, shaking her head in denial again. "He should've known I didn't want you to see."

"Spike was only worried about you, Buffy. He doesn't want you to be hurting like this, and he thought I could help." Giles paused for a moment before he added, "He loves you."

For the first time since his arrival at the crypt, Buffy looked into Giles's eyes. "He…he does?"

In all honesty, Giles didn't understand the nature of a vampire's emotions. With all the things he had learned about them during his training as a Watcher, that had never been something they'd bothered to put in the texts. However, he had seen the obvious concern Spike held for the girl, and he knew Buffy needed something now to keep herself from slipping into full-blown insanity. Spike could be that in a way Giles knew he himself never could. "Yes, he does."

"I didn't think he could," Buffy replied, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes dropped again. "Not after…not without…I didn't think he could."

"He does," Giles assured her softly. As much as he wished he could take her someplace where he could keep her safe, he was an intelligent enough man to recognize that Buffy's only real chance now was feeling like she could belong with at least one member of her own kind. While Angel had been content to be a loner when he'd been cursed, Giles realized that would never do for Buffy. Despite the fact that the very nature of the Slayer was to be alone, Buffy had always fought against that, surrounding herself with friends and loved ones. Giles couldn't imagine her being able to survive any differently now, nor could be imagine that she would be content to be around only humans.

She'd had a hard enough time dealing with the ways being the Slayer had made her different from others. To live a life in the dark when everyone around her was in the light would be too much for her to handle.

Whether it was truly something one could call "love," Giles didn't know, though he would be hard pressed to come up with any other word for what he'd seen in Spike's eyes when the vampire spoke of Buffy. Furthermore, had Spike not cared deeply for the girl, wouldn't she be no more than a pile of dust now—or at the very least, abandoned in this crypt, left to slip further and further into insanity?

Instead, Spike had stayed by Buffy's side, even going as far as to seek out Giles in order to try to help her when he felt he wasn't getting through to her on his own. Giles doubted Buffy was in much of a shape to be either a hunting partner or a lover to the male vampire which, according to the Council's texts, were the only reasons vampires traveled in pairs or groups. Spike continuing to see to Buffy's care and well-being went against all Giles had ever been taught.

Yet, even with all his love for his books, he knew that things you saw with your own eyes often times carried much more credence than what was written on a page.

"I feel so lost, Giles," Buffy said as she looked up again, the feeling she'd just admitted to so clear in her eyes. "It hurts, and I…I don't know what to do anymore."

Looking at her now, Giles knew he could never truly help her. She was beyond him now, beyond his help.

As much as Giles didn't like it, all she had was Spike. Spike had gotten him to help Buffy, but Giles knew that the vampire was the one who could truly give Buffy the help she needed.

He'd have to show her to live in the darkness…

"Let Spike show you, Buffy," Giles replied, the words hurting him to say. He didn't want to let her go, didn't want to accept the fact he'd truly lost her. And yet, he knew now, seeing her sitting in this crypt, that he had.

Her skin was pale and cold. Blood stains marred the clothes she wore. Buffy was dead. And short of driving a stake through her heart, there was nothing he could do but let her be what she was now.

"Is it really okay, Giles?"

Giles smiled at her and placed his hand on her shoulder, doing his best to convey authority. "Yes, Buffy, it's okay. You can let Spike take care of you, and it'll be all right." He didn't know if he was lying or not, and in all honestly, he figured he probably was. But she needed something now, something to hold on to, and this was all he could give her.

Tentatively, Buffy smiled back, and Giles reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She started to duck her head, to shield herself from his gaze, but Giles wouldn't let her. "You're as beautiful as ever, Buffy."

"Thank you, Giles," she replied, emotion choking his voice.

He stood and was relieved when Buffy didn't try to stop him. Leaving her now was difficult enough without her making it any harder on him. "Let Spike take care of you, Buffy," Giles told her one more time. "He'll make things okay."

Buffy's only response was a small nod, and at that, Giles returned to the ladder and climbed back to the upper part of the crypt. He heard Spike come up after him, but didn't turn around to face him until he was almost at the door.

"I told her you'd take care of her. Don't make a liar out of me."

"I won't, Watcher. Thank you."

With nothing left to say, Giles left the crypt.

*** *** ***

I know it's been a couple weeks since I updated, but it's been fairly hectic for me lately. However, even though I wasn't posting, I have been writing when I can, and I've managed to finish this story—at least in rough draft form—so the rest of it should come without any more long breaks.

For any of you also reading Oedipus Calling, I reluctantly admitted to myself that I can only work on one story at a time these days and put it on hold until I got this one out of the way. Hopefully, I can start it back up in the next few weeks.

Please review.

It wasn't until the next evening that Spike saw any effects of what Giles had said to Buffy. She'd been still sitting on the bed when he'd come back down after seeing the Watcher out, and while she had remained quiet and distant for the remainder of the night, Spike had held onto the hope that perhaps she was simply processing what had happened and would start to come around soon. He had to at least think that, because if Giles hadn't gotten through to her, well, Spike was pretty much out of ideas.

He woke early in the evening to the sound of running water. It took Spike a moment to identify where it was coming from, but as he came further into consciousness, he realized it was the shower. Or rather the pipe he'd rigged up to serve as a shower. Buffy's side of the bed was empty, and while Spike was hopeful it simply meant she'd decided to get up and shower—which would be a good sign of progress—he couldn't help but worry that the talk with Giles had had the opposite effect that he'd been planning and Buffy was now in the shower maniacally trying to "wash of the guilt" or something equally insane.

After so many years with Drusilla, Spike had come to expect insanity.

He got out of the bed and walked towards the shower, holding his breath as if it made a difference.

He let it out again when he saw her standing under the pipe, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. His cock hardened at the sight of her, his body remembering what it had felt like to take her there, right against the wall, with the water rushing over their bodies. Yet he forced back his desire, not wanting to do anything to upset Buffy again. She'd made no sexual advances towards him since that first, desperate time when her soul had been returned to her, and Spike had resigned himself to let her go at her own pace.

Hopefully, at some point, she'd welcome him back into her arms again.

Buffy finished rinsing her hair and opened her eyes, her gaze fixing on Spike. For a moment, Spike thought he saw her eyes darken with lust, but when she ducked her head and shied away from his stare, her decided he must have been imagining it. He forced himself to look away from her, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself, to listen to something other than the roaring of the demon inside of him, telling him to take what was his.

But if there was one thing that set him apart from others like him, it was that Spike could make the man inside of him stronger than the demon, and this was a time he knew he had to do that.

"I was just coming to make sure you were all right," Spike said, his eyes fixated on the crypt's stone floor.

"I am. I just felt all grimy, what with the whole not bathing for days thing. I'm surprised you could stand to be around me. I was getting a little ripe."

In spite of himself, Spike smiled. "I'd love you even if you smelled like a rubbish bin, pet."

Buffy chuckled, and the sound was almost enough to make Spike's heart thump in his chest. "Gee, you sure know how to sweet talk a girl. Hand me a towel?"

Immediately, Spike moved to fill her request grabbing a towel from the stack and handing it to her as she turned off the water. She took it from him with a soft, "thank you," and he could hear the fabric as it rubbed over her skin. An involuntary shiver ran through his body as he imagined the towel touching her in the ways he wanted to.

He heard her moving then felt her hand against his arm a moment later. Again, he trembled, her touch searing him despite the coolness of her skin.

"I'm sorry," Buffy told him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know you want…but I…I can't right now."

He took another deep breath, pushing his demon down harder, before he turned and looked at her, removing her hand from his arm and capturing it in his. "It's all right, luv. I can wait until you're ready again."

Buffy bit her lip, her free hand clasping her towel where it wrapped around her body. "What if that's a long time away, Spike?"

He responded with a half smile and a gentle squeeze of her hand. "I'll wait."

Her eyes lowering shyly again, Buffy took her hand away from his. "I'm hungry. Could you warm us up some blood?"

"Of course, lamb," Spike replied without hesitation, grateful to be moving away from wet, towel-wrapped Buffy when he knew he couldn't have her the way he wanted. It was a struggle to take things so slowly, to keep this distance between them, but he knew it was what he had to do to keep from breaking her more.

To keep from losing her forever…

He heard her come up the ladder as he was warming up their blood, and his body grew still for a moment as he heard her switch on the television. He didn't know what to expect now, didn't know what it meant that she was doing something other than spending all her time in the bed. She was still clearly not completely "okay." Her continued reluctance to resume their physical relationship alone made that clear. However, her behavior had definitely changed since her visit with Giles. Was she trying to reconcile herself with what she had become? Or would this attempt she was trying to make fail and send her off the deep end once and for all?

The possibilities had Spike on edge, his nerves frayed. He felt as if any move he made could be the wrong one, could hurt Buffy in some unpredictable way. It was hard for him to remember to proceed with caution all the time, his mind still used to thinking of her as strong, not fragile like she'd become now.

Mugs of blood in each hand, Spike walked over to the couch and handed Buffy hers before he sat down on the other side, careful not to crowd her. He expected her to want the distance, expected her to continue to shy away from his touch.

It shocked him to the core when instead, she closed the gap and slid her body against his, her head resting comfortably against his chest.

For a moment, he didn't move at all. Then, carefully, still afraid she'd bolt, he steadied his mug in one hand as he wrapped his other arm casually around her.

She didn't push him away. If anything, she seemed to be moving closer.

Her eyes never turned to him. She sipped her blood and watched whatever teenybopper drivel it was she'd put on the telly, but Spike's gaze didn't waiver from her. The television was white noise in the background as every shallow, unneeded breath she took echoed in his ears.

Spike feigned casualness as he began to drink the heated pig's blood in his mug, worried that she would get upset if he didn't eat with her, like she had before. He wanted to make it all seem as normal as possible to her, wanted her to feel as if everything was fine.

The thought of having her so close to being back to normal only to watch her slip further away terrified him.

When she finished her own meal, Buffy leaned forward to set it on the floor, then leaned back again, her head tilting to rest against the crook of Spike's neck. He put his own mug down then, moving carefully so as to disturb her as little as possible. Both hands free now, he pulled her closer, held her tighter, one hand moving to tentatively stroke her hair. When she didn't reject that little bit of affection, he moved more surely, his fingers running through the golden strands.

She sighed softly, something almost like contentedness in the sound. Spike closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, savoring the moment that seemed almost unreal after the past few days.

Could it be that simple? Just a little chat with her Watcher, and she was well on the way to being his again?

Spike wasn't going to bet on it. The universe was rarely—if ever—that kind to him. But he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity now, wasn't going to do anything but relish in the feel of her in his arms.

She laughed softly, almost reluctantly, at whatever she was watching, but the tiny sound was enough to give Spike a little more hope. It wasn't one she'd made recently.

Almost under their own accord, his lips moved, pressed gently against her hair. She stiffened, and Spike was afraid he'd pushed it too far, but then she relaxed, accepting his embrace once again.

The desire for him to speak was almost overwhelming. He wanted to profess his love, recite poetry, anything to let her know how deeply he truly cared for her. Yet he had a feeling the quickest way to end this would be with words, so he fought his very nature and remained silent, trying to instead to infuse his touch with his feelings, letting her know what he didn't dare say with a trail of his fingers down her bare arm.

Eventually, she moved, leaning forward, and a fresh wave of panic bubbled inside of him until Spike realized she was simply reaching for the remote control. Buffy flipped through the channels until she found something else to her liking, then dropped the control beside her and moved back into Spike's embrace.

The longer they stayed like that, the more Spike began to question the very normalness of the evening. Buffy was behaving as if they were just another couple opting to spend the night in with the television. Yet he was painfully aware that they were not, and he knew she had to be, too. He wanted to ask her what was really on her mind, if she truly felt as if she could ease back into unlife with him or if this was just an attempt that was destined to fail painfully. Yet he bit back those questions as well, continuing to use all of his willpower to force himself to stay quiet.

He knew his Buffy, knew how easily spooked she could be, and he couldn't risk that, not now. Not when he was getting to hold her like this. Spike knew at any moment she could go back to how she had been, realizing she could never again feel as if all was okay between them.

This could be the last time he ever held her like this, and he wasn't going to ruin it by worrying.

Instead, he calmed down, held her close, and relished the stolen moment.

*** *** ***

Even though it had been several hours since she'd turned off the television and they'd come back downstairs, Buffy knew Spike wasn't asleep. He was tense behind her, the arm draped around her waist not relaxed. She didn't think he'd been sleeping much at all recently. Instead, he'd been watching over her.

She turned in his arms and looked into his eyes. Gently, she reached out and touched his cheek, tracing over the sharp planes of his face with her fingers. "It's okay, baby. You can sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."

His only response was a soft, almost desperate whisper of her name, and Buffy felt her heart clinch as she realized something she hadn't before—he was as lost as she was now.

She needed him. She hated the thought of being so dependant on anyone, yet she knew she needed him to get through this existence. But now, seeing him like this, so open and vulnerable to her in the darkness of their crypt, she realized maybe needing him was okay. Because he needed her, too. They needed each other…

Buffy didn't hesitate as she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. "You need your rest. It'll be all right. You can close your eyes and I won't leave."

She could tell he started to protest, but his body was exhausted, and he gave in, his eyes falling shut. Buffy watched him until she was sure he was asleep, until the tension in his body finally drained. She slid up to lay her lips against his forehead, her eyes closing as she breathed in the comforting, masculine scent of his skin.

Reluctantly, she pulled up, though she continued to hover over him, her fingers brushing over unruly bleached curls. Something strong welled up inside of her, the simple act of watching him sleep suddenly becoming nearly overwhelming. He was beautiful, and so devoted to her it frightened her, made her afraid of accepting what he was offering because she knew how easy it could be to lose it in the end.

Only he wasn't running. He was holding on, as desperate to keep what they had once shared as she was. His devotion to her hadn't wavered, not once since she'd been cursed with the return of her soul. If anything, it was as if it had grown stronger. Every challenge they'd faced over the past few days, he'd faced head on, never turning away from her, never rejecting her because she couldn't be who she'd once been.

It was then Buffy realized he didn't love her for the demon. He loved her.

A tear dropped onto his pale skin, and Buffy wiped at her eyes, realizing she was crying. Her body trembling, she leaned down again, her lips back against his forehead as she whispered.

"I still love you, too."

*** *** ***

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The next few days saw an uneasy peace in the crypt. Buffy still wasn't talking much, but she seemed to be getting better rather than worse, which Spike was grateful for. He could almost let himself hope that they were going to get through this.

Then, three days after her Watcher's visit, Buffy made an announcement that both shocked and elated Spike.

"I want to go out."

He turned towards her, his eyebrow arched. "You do?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. His main concern as of late had been not doing anything to make her skitter back into her deep depression, and he wasn’t going to jump to the conclusion that her simple declaration meant that he could relax.

"Yeah. I mean, not to like kill anyone or anything…" Buffy ducked her head as she spoke.

Spike moved closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "I know, kitten. Where do you want to go?"

Buffy looked up, a mixture of nervousness and hope in her eyes. While the idea of leaving the crypt and facing the outside world now truly terrified her, she'd come to the conclusion that it was something she needed to do, and the sooner the better. As frightening as facing what was beyond the crypt was, the idea of never leaving, of never being able to learn how to go forward from here, was even scarier.

She didn't want to become lost and broken. It was hard, but she knew she was stronger than that. Despite it all, part of her was still the Slayer, and she had made the firm decision that she was not simply going to let herself waste away. She needed to find her place in the world again.

And Spike needed her, too.

It surprised her somewhat how big of a part that played in her decision to face the world again. While her talk with Giles had done her some good, the biggest benefit of it had been simply knowing that Spike would go so far as to seek out her Watcher because he was worried about her. She knew, that for a vampire like Spike, such an action spoke volumes.

It had shown her how much he loved her and what he was willing to do in order to help her. He needed her to get better, and she wasn't going to let him down.

"The Bronze?" Buffy suggest. "I used to… I used to like going there."

"The Bronze it is then, kitten," Spike replied. "Anyplace you want to go, we'll go."

Buffy favored him with a warm smile, the one Spike could never seem to keep from responding to with a smile of his own. "I'm going to go downstairs and change my clothes, okay? Sweats aren't exactly Bronzing attire."

"I'll wait for you up here then, princess."

With another brief, yet glorious smile, Buffy made her way down to the bottom level of the crypt and to the armoire Spike had found her for her clothes. Her eyes were drawn to a red mini-dress, and she flinched as she remembered the night she'd gotten it. She hadn't thought twice about murdering the shop clerk in order to get what she’d wanted. No, she'd enjoyed it, taken pleasure in the act.

Buffy shook her head, pushing back the memories of that night. She couldn't dwell on them now, not when she couldn't do anything to change them. She had to look towards the future, put herself back on track. She'd made mistakes, acted like the demon she was now, but she could rise above that, she knew. She just needed to look towards the future, not allow herself to drown in the past. Her soul was clearly stuck with her, since the curse hadn’t been broken like with Angel. She wouldn’t hurt anyone again and she had time to make up for the things she’d done.

Steadying herself, Buffy reached into the armoire and took out the dress.

*** *** ***

It had taken willpower Spike didn't even know he possessed to keep his hands off of her and let them both leave the crypt. She'd put on a bright red dress and knee high black leather boots—a combination that was very high at the top of his favorites list. Her golden hair fell around her shoulders in gentle waves and her green eyes were highlighted by smoky black shadow.

He'd trembled at the sight, but had kept his touch limited to taking her hand in his when she'd offered it to him.

They made the trip in silence, neither of them speaking until they reached the entrance of the club, where Buffy froze. Spike tightened his grip on her hand as he stroked it with his thumb. "Are you sure you want to do this, luv?"

Screwing up her courage, Buffy nodded. "I think I need to. You need me to."

At that, Spike frowned, her declaration not making sense to him. He tugged her back, away from the crowd of teenagers milling outside the club and over into the shadows, where they could talk alone. "I need you to? What do you mean, sweetheart? You're not just out here tonight because of me, are you? Because if you don't want to be…"

Buffy stopped his words with a finger against his lips. "No, Spike, that's not it. I just meant, well…" She dropped her hand and turned her head slightly, looking into a puddle beside her feet, not even registering the fact she wasn't reflected in it.

"I want to try to make us work, okay? I…well, I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose us. It can't be like it was before, but it's important to me to try to move forward with you. I don't really understand why you're sticking around, but you are, and I'm not… I'm not going to turn away from that."

"I could never leave you, Buffy, no matter what happened. You're my…" Spike stopped, searching for the word. How could a single word encapsulate what Buffy had become to him? She'd flipped his whole world upside down, torn apart everything he'd ever known, and yet she'd then turned around and given him more than he'd ever thought possible.

"You're my everything, kitten."

His quiet declaration made Buffy turn her head to look up at Spike again. His eyes held a shine she knew he'd never admit to, and she smiled despite her own tears. "You're mine, too."

It had been too long since he'd tasted her, and Spike could no longer hold himself back. He tugged her towards him, his lips finding hers on instinct. Buffy didn't pull away, but instead wrapped her arms around him, her fingers digging into the leather of his coat as she sighed in contentment against his mouth.

This was what she'd been missing these past few days. She closed her eyes, let the feel of kissing him again wash over her, her body loosening as he brought his arms around her, supporting her.

When she broke away, his eyes were dark, and he panted the way he always did when she kissed him, giving her that heady feeling that came with knowing she affected a man like that. She gave him a sly smile, even as she licked her lips to capture the lingering taste of him. "We should go inside."

For a moment, Spike looked confused, and Buffy stifled a giggle as she realized he was trying to remember where they even where. Then, he cleared his throat and nodded. "Right. Inside. The Bronze."

Buffy took him by the arm and led him inside, pulling him right onto the dance floor. Spike wasn't sure what to expect, but he certainly wasn't disappointed when Buffy turned and started moving herself against him to the music.

Not willing to reject anything she was willing to offer, Spike placed his hands on her hips, guiding her movements as she swayed in time with the steady beat.

Buffy could feel his erection pressing against her bottom through the denim of his jeans, could feel the leather of his coat brushing against her legs as they moved together. Her entire body hummed as the scent of Spike surrounded her, breathing in deep to fill herself with it.

And she realized in that moment that she could let go with him. It was okay to let go with him. What they had done together was more than violence, more than bloodshed. They had love, and Buffy knew in her heart the love they shared wasn't wrong. It transcended their demons, transcended even their human selves. It was something she'd never looked for, never expected, and yet it was there, stronger than either of them.

She started to turn, the words she'd been so afraid of these past few days ready to fall from her lips when she felt Spike freeze. Before she could ask him what was wrong, she looked forward and realized who he was seeing.

Willow.

Behind her, Spike growled low in his throat, and Buffy placed her hand on his, steadying him. A look of confusion and hurt in her eyes, Willow moved towards the blond couple, even as Oz called after her to stop.

Sensing a conflict arising, Buffy turned quickly to Spike. "Let me talk to her, okay?"

Spike's response was another growl, but he didn't fight her, didn't follow her when she stepped away from the dance floor. Yet she could still sense him behind her, could sense the tension in him and knew he'd strike the moment he was provoked.

Buffy noted, oddly enough, that was more comfort than she'd thought it would be.

"Buffy? What are you doing here with him?" Willow asked once Buffy was close enough to talk to, the tone in the redhead's voice belying her sense of betrayal.

The irony of that was far from lost on Buffy.

"I'm with Spike now, Willow," Buffy replied, bitterness seeping into her words. For a moment, she tried to fight it until she realized she didn't want to. "It's where I belong."

"Buffy, no!" Willow protested. "You belong with your friends—with your family!"

Buffy stiffened, her anger growing by the moment. "I am with my family, Willow. I'm with Spike."

For a moment, all Willow could do was gape, her mouth opening and closing several times before she said, "But…but your soul!"

Buffy let out a humorless laugh. "My soul. My soul. How dare you, Willow? How dare you do that to me?"

Willow bristled, knocking Oz's hand off when she felt him come up behind her, trying to guide her back away from the former Slayer. Buffy noticed Oz's hand wrapped around a stake, and the image served to further highlight the divide between her old life and her new.

"I did what I had to do, Buffy! You…you were killing people! I couldn't let you go on like that!"

"I was happy!" Buffy yelled back. "Now I feel like…" She stopped, shaking her head. "You know, I wish I'd killed you before you had the chance to do this."

Willow blinked, tears immediately rising to her eyes. "Buffy? How…how can you say that? I'm your friend."

"No you're not! Don't you get it, Willow? Your friend is dead! I’m…I’m someone else now."

Willow shook her head rapidly, even as she finally accepted the support of Oz's steady hand. "No. No. It can be like it was. You can…"

"No!" Heedless of any attention they may be getting from the Bronze's other patrons of the evening, Buffy let her demonic features slip into place. "This is me now, Willow. A demon. And thanks to you, I have to both fight my nature and suffer for the things I've already done."

At the sight of Buffy's true face now, Willow reared back. "Buffy?" she asked, her voice growing meek.

"This is what I am, Willow. You should've just let me be this."

Buffy felt Spike approach her even before his hand was on her arm, and at the first touch of his skin against hers, she let the ridges on her forehead fade. As much as Spike wanted to see the little witch suffer for what she'd done to Buffy, he couldn't let her bear the weight of another death on her soul—and as tense as things were, he knew they could easily get out of hand.

Willow looked between Spike and Buffy, her head shaking back and forth. "This isn't right. This isn't how things were supposed to be."

His expression tight, anger barely under control, Spike replied, "No, Red, it isn't. Not at all."

Buffy turned to Spike, looking at him with wide, watery eyes. "Take me home?"

With a swirl of his duster, Spike led Buffy out of the club, ignoring Willow as she called after them.

*** *** ***

I just have to say, I got a new laptop today, and I am the happiest little writer ever. LOL Hopefully, it’ll inspire me to write more, just so I can use it. *wink*

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The trip back to the crypt from the Bronze was made in silence, and while the way from the crypt had been the same, Spike couldn't help but worry now. He knew Buffy's confrontation with Willow had to have upset her, and he couldn't shake the fear that it would drive her back to the way she had been when first her soul had first returned.

If he could do it without upsetting Buffy, Spike would have killed Willow right there for what she had done to his lover.

Once they got home, Buffy told Spike she was ready for bed. He let her go with a soft kiss to her forehead, telling her he'd join her after he had a cigarette. He needed something to calm his nerves.

Standing outside the crypt, Spike shook a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. Slowly, he took a drag, watching the smoke as it curled up towards the night sky. He didn't know what he'd do if Buffy didn't continue on like she had been since she'd spoken with Giles. Nothing could make him leave her side, that much he knew for certain. But living like this, having to watch the woman he loved so much in that sort of pain—he didn't know how long he could take it and stay sane himself.

He stayed outside until is cigarette was nothing but ashes, then dropped the smoldering butt to the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of his boot. A deep sigh, and he went back inside, prepared for another night of holding Buffy through a restless sleep.

However, when he got downstairs, he found a very different sight than the one he'd expected. He blinked several times, expecting it to be a hallucination that would fade; however, the tantalizing image in front of him remained.

The bottom level of the crypt was lit by low candlelight, centered around the bed. And on the bed… Spike licked his lips, his eyes darkening as he took in the view of Buffy in nothing but a blood red lace bra and panties set.

"I was wondering when you were going to get your cute little butt down here and join me," Buffy said, the corner of her lips twitching up in a teasing smirk.

"If I'd known you were waiting down here for me like this, I would've moved a lot faster," Spike replied as he stalked towards the bed. Just looking at her had him hard and throbbing, his body too long denied the pleasure of her welcoming body. He stopped at the edge of the bed to remove his boots before crawling up on his knuckles until he was hovering over Buffy.

He looked down at her, his expression one of awe. "You are so beautiful…"

Buffy smiled at him as she raised her hand to caress his cheek. "So are you, you know."

Spike's entire body ached with the need to be inside her again, to recapture the pure bliss he'd felt every time they'd made love, and yet he knew he had to be sure this was what she truly wanted before they went too far. The evening's confrontation with the girl who had caused all this heartache for them in the first place was still in the forefront of his mind and he knew it had to be there for Buffy as well. If she was doing this for a reason other than desire for him alone, then they needed to stop. What was best for her would always take precedence over his own desire. Spike would make sure of that, no matter how difficult it may be.

"Are you sure about this, kitten?" he asked, even as he leaned into her hand.

"You're thinking I'm upset over what happed with Willow, aren't you?"

"For starters," Spike admitted.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as Buffy pushed on his chest, and Spike could almost feel his hopes crushing as he moved up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey now, don't look like such a little kicked puppy," Buffy teased as she sat up herself and moved to sit beside him and wrapped her arms around his. "You're still getting laid." Spike turned towards her quickly, his eyebrow arched, and Buffy had to laugh. "I'm okay, Spike. Really. I mean, yeah, seeing Willow tonight—not my idea of fun. But I'm also sorta glad it happened."

At that, Spike frowned. "How so?"

"It made me realize something."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"That I really don't belong in her world anymore—and I don't want to. When I was with you before this happened, I was happier than I've ever been. Ever. Happier even than I was before my parents split and I got Called. For the first time, I felt like I really belonged somewhere, like I had everything I could ever want. And then I got my soul back, and well, I felt guilty for even loving you."

Spike's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to speak, but Buffy reached out and placed her finger against his parted lips to silence him. "Shh. Let me finish, okay? Over the past few days, I've realized something. It's okay for me to love you, William."

His expression changed to one of wonder, and as her finger dropped, Spike whispered her name questioningly. She smiled softly at him, reaching down into his lap to take his hand.

"I'm not going to deny that there were things about you that I was attracted to then that I don't want to think about now, but beyond that…" Buffy paused for a moment, looking down at how their fingers were entwined. "The connection we had—we have—is so much deeper than that. It's…" She stopped, at a loss for words when it came to describing what she felt for him.

Spike pressed his free hand against her cheek, and Buffy looked up, meeting his eyes. "It's all right, sweetheart. You don't have to explain it to me. I know."

Buffy smiled, tears welling up in her eyes again, though these were so different from the ones she'd shed over the past few days. "You do, don't you?"

With a nod, he replied, "As well as I've ever known anything, pet."

"When I saw her tonight, I knew. I had no desire to be around her, to go back to what I was—and not just because this whole soul curse thing has me more than a little cranky with her." Spike chuckled slightly at that, and Buffy's smile grew at the soft sound. "I think maybe, well…" Buffy stopped again and sighed. "I don't know, this could be so selfish of me to even say, but I think maybe this was all worth it. Because, well…"

Her eyes darted down again as she said quietly, barely above a whisper, "No one else could ever love me like you do, Spike. And to have the chance to be loved like this…" Suddenly, she looked back up, her eyes locking with his again. "And I miss you. I miss you so much. Just…being with you. I don't want to spend another night like the ones we’ve been having. I need you. When…when you're inside, everything just…fits."

Spike swallowed, her words meaning more to him than she could even imagine. "Oh, Buffy…"

Before Spike could finish his thought, Buffy had launched herself at him, her mouth smashing against his with desperation. All hesitation gone, Spike growled low in his throat and lowered her down to the bed, his hands skimming her body to grab her bottom, bared by her thong.

Buffy moaned into his mouth, her own hands frantic against him, tugging at his t-shirt. Impatient, she ripped it from his chest, letting it fall ruined to the bed. Spike snarled, squeezing the rounded globes in his hands hard as his eyes flashed between blue and gold. He nipped at her lips, breaking open the flesh and tasting her blood on his tongue.

Her body humming with need, Buffy arched off the bed, gasping as Spike moved from her lips down to her neck, biting almost hard enough to break the skin before trailing lower, moving his attention to the tantalizing mounds of flesh peeking out from the top of her bra. He laved the area with his tongue before pushing one red cup down and sinking his fangs in, his eyes rolling back as a taste like ambrosia filled his mouth.

Buffy cried out, her hips bucking wildly. She'd missed this… Spike drove her wild in ways she'd never expected, did things to her she'd never known could be so wonderful.

He growled and she trembled, his teeth at the front of her bra, the flimsy fabric no match for his sharp fangs. Her breasts fully bared to him, Spike attacked them with renewed fury, lapping at her nipples until they were so sensitive Buffy wasn't sure she could take it anymore.

Then he was moving on, biting and licking the planes of her stomach, every touch making Buffy cry out. She trembled in anticipation as his mouth moved closer to her dripping pussy, enough moisture there already for Spike to feast on.

Spike nudged her clit through her panties with his nose, the rough lace rubbing against the sensitized bud. She gasped, her hips thrusting in a silent plea. The taste of her too long denied to him for Spike to tease, her panties met the same fate as her bra, his fangs rending them from her body.

Within the first few passes of his tongue, Buffy was spasming. Spike growled in response to the rush of fresh juices in his mouth, and Buffy screamed as the vibrations traveled through her most sensitive spot. Still, he continued to feast on her until she was weeping from the pleasure, her body shaking with each stab of Spike's long tongue into her channel.

Suddenly, he pulled away, but before Buffy could regain her senses, three of his fingers pushed inside of her as his fangs sank into her inner thigh. She screamed again, the sound echoing off the walls of the crypt as the world around her flashed into bright light.

She came down to the gentle laps of Spike's tongue against the fresh bite mark. Panting heavily, Buffy reached between her spread legs to touch his head, her fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair.

Spike looked up, met her eyes, and smiled against her skin. Buffy smiled back before crooking her finger, beckoning him to her. Spike complied without protest, crawling his way back up her body. The denim of his jeans rubbed against her skin, with her every nerve ending on edge and she moaned.

Buffy didn't realize she was vamped out as well until Spike was hovering over her, kissing the ridges on her brow. He whispered one phrase between every gentle kiss, and Buffy felt a lump rising in her throat.

"I love you… I love you…"

Tears stung the edges of her eyes, and Buffy held on tightly to Spike's bare shoulders. "Spike, please… I want… I need… Oh…"

"Shh… I know, kitten. I know." Spike pulled up, unfastening his jeans and slipping them down and off his legs before he was covering her body with his again, kissing her everywhere his lips could reach. His cock fell thick and ready between her legs, and Buffy thrust her hips, desperate for the feeling of being complete that only he could give her.

Spike didn't keep her waiting. Their eyes met as his hand stole between their bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with her entrance. Buffy thrust her hips again as he pushed forward, and with a cry in unison, he was inside her again.

They trembled together, both stilling for a moment to adjust to the feel of being joined again. "I missed this," Buffy whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Me, too," Spike replied softly.

Then, they were moving, a perfect rhythm found from the start. They needed no words, every emotion lay bare in touch alone. Instinctively, their lips met, fangs and tongue battling, colliding, melding. Pleasure coiled inside them, and the pain of the past few days meant nothing in this exquisite homecoming.

In unspoken agreement, their lips came apart and their eyes met. Buffy gasped, and as Spike felt her inner walls fluttering around him, he let go, roaring his pleasure as he came.

*** *** ***

The crypt was still, silent, the two lovers entwined on the bed.

Something passed through her, and Buffy's eyes shot open. Pain rolled through her and she gasped, stumbling off the bed and collapsing on to the floor.

Behind her, she could faintly hear Spike's voice calling to her, yet she couldn't respond, her entire body seizing up as she struggled for breath she could only dimly remember she didn't need.

And then, it was over. The world grew still again, and Buffy panted, her head hanging as her hands pushed against the hard stone floor.

Slowly, she brought her head up as a grin spread across her face.

*** *** ***

This is the end of the fic. I hope you enjoyed by little foray into vamp Buffy. I realize some people are probably going to be upset that I don’t take it any further, but this is the ending I wanted and have been planning since the beginning. I hope most of you like it and you enjoyed the fic on the whole.

Thanks for reading and please review!