Seed Born of Blood
By Starshine and Bloodshedbaby
Response to Challenge 33. Requirements
Imagine if during “The Gift,” if Buffy sleeps with Spike when they go back to her house to get weapons. Spike thinking he had nothing to lose, went ahead and claimed Buffy. A few hours later, Buffy dies in the battle. Now, the Scoobies do not want anyone to know that Buffy has died. Xander builds a coffin for her, and Willow does a spell to preserve the body, since they can not have her embalmed. Now, 147 days after she dies, Willow does the resurrection spell to bring Buffy back. The resurrection spell revives Buffy, including Spike’s sperm from when they had sex right before she died. Then two months later, Buffy is sick and finds out that she is pregnant. Now Buffy has to deal with not only being pulled out of heaven by her friends, but that she is having Spike’s baby.
Pairing: B/S. R or NC-17, hopefully NC-17
Setting: Starts at the end of season 5, episode “The Gift”
Spike does not try to rape Buffy
Buffy finds somewhere to work other than The Doublemeat Palace
Include the Trio’s argument of Connery vs. Moore vs. Dalton
Include the line “news from the file marked ‘duh.’”
Tara is shot but is not killed
Spike being overprotective of Buffy
Angel finds out that Buffy is pregnant by Spike
Ideas you can use:
Angel being jealous of Spike
Spike bonding with Dawn or the Scoobies
Angel tries (unsuccessfully) to bond with the Dawn & the Scoobies as well
Riley returns to Sunnydale
Spike, Xander, Giles getting drunk together
Xander and Anya get married
Spike and Angel fighting (physically) over Buffy
Giles laughing to Buffy’s confession

Chapter 1
By Starshine

Prologue

“I know you'll never love me.”

Buffy stopped halfway up the stairs of her house and turned back around to see the platinum blonde vampire standing there looking at her the whole of his undead heart in his beautiful blue eyes as he stared up at her.

“I know that I'm a monster, but you treat me like a man, and that's…” Spike stopped, taking in a deep, unnecessary breath. He shook his head slightly as if he was trying to regain his composure.

Buffy looked at him, speechless. Was this really the same creature that came to Sunnydale not more than three years ago? No, she thought with calm certainty. That creature had been full of brash swagger and boundless ego. This vampire-- this MAN-- stood before her ready to sacrifice everything for a little girl he barely knew. And for what? There was nothing in it for him, no money or claim to fame. He possessed no soul to tell him that; right or wrong, this was the thing to do.

Most of his kind was probably gathered somewhere, waiting with great anticipation for the world to be thrown into a state of chaos that would leave them free to roam the earth, taking what they wanted and feasting on the demise of humanity.

Yet he stayed.

He stayed when no one else did; standing side by side with what had once been his mortal enemy. Solid and steadfast, he never hesitated to give her his all, by word or deed.

She thought back to earlier this evening when she had searched him out. It had been her intent to ask for his help in getting Dawnie and her friends out of town. He had been standing in front of his duffle with a crossbow in his hands and memories scattered across the bed, obviously packing. She had swallowed a lump of fear and asked him where he was going.

“Sussed out something on the large capacity side of vehicular travel. Should take me about twenty minutes to nick. Your mates waiting somewhere?”

Buffy had nodded.

“Right then, let’s get moving.”

She hadn’t even had to ask him. He had just known. Once again, without a word of protest, he was ready to follow her to hell and back. Buffy had known at that moment that it wasn’t only about Dawn. As fond as he might be of the girl, she knew in her heart that it was about her.

Once upon a time, she had told him that he couldn’t love; he wasn’t capable of such an emotion. She knew now that she was wrong. So very, very wrong.

“Get your stuff, I'll be here,” Spike said, breaking her out of her reverie.

Buffy turned and began to walk up the stairs, feeling his eyes boring into her back with each step she took. Suddenly, she turned around.

“Spike, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He tilted his head to the side and looked up at her enquiringly.

“That night…When I told you that you were beneath me. I’m sorry for that.”

Spike looked down in a futile attempt to hide the pain that those vile words still caused him.

Any other insult he could have shaken off, but to hear the words that had started him on his path to eternal damnation fall from her lips with such furious loathing had cut him to the core.

She retraced her steps until she stood on the bottom step of the staircase, her somber hazel eyes level with his. One hand rested on the carved newel post, her fingernails digging tiny half-moons into the soft wood.

“I had to say something. You…you were right. Everything that you said about me, about Slayers and their death wishes, was right. I was desperate to prove you wrong, to regain the upper hand. Of all the things I could have said or done, I chose that. It was a cruel and thoughtless thing to do to someone who was only trying to make me see what was in store for me if I didn’t open my eyes. It was wrong, and I hope that someday you can forgive me for it.”

“Evil vampire here, luv. Kind of used to things like that,” he replied, trying his damnedest to keep her from seeing how much her apology affected him. Ever the Big Bad.

“Sometimes are you are, but I also know that sometimes you’re not. That same night you came here and found me crying on the back steps. It didn’t matter to you that I had just tried to slay you with words; you sat with me for hours and offered comfort. After my mom died; in spite of what Xander said, you went out of your way to bring those flowers for her. And then, you endured unspeakable torture for hours when all you had to do to make it stop was tell Glory who the Key was. Those weren’t the actions of an evil monster. Those were the actions of a man. It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve finally learned that the world isn’t black and white. Nothing is absolute. No one is completely good or bad.”

In a move that was bold and totally without artifice, she reached out and touched his face, her fingers brushing the high arch of his cheekbone.

“You’re not a monster, Spike,” she said.

The softness of her voice echoed through his unbeating heart. He wanted so badly to kiss her, to give her something that expressed how much her words meant to him. He had tried twice before, only to have her flinch away and look upon him in revulsion. Deciding with disgust that he was indeed love’s bitch, he dared to try for a third time. Leaning forward, he pressed a chaste kiss on her soft, pink lips.

Pulling back, he braced himself for a punch or kick to impact painfully with some part of his anatomy. What he got was the firm pressure of a small but lethal hand that slid around the back of his neck to draw him close once more.

Her parted lips met his and Spike’s eyes widened in awe before drifting shut in ecstasy.

Buffy Summers, his mortal enemy; the one thing he loved more than anything in his miserable undead existence, was kissing him. And the only magic involved was what they were creating between them.

A hard shove sent him sprawling on his back and he looked up at her with a brief flash of fear in his eyes, his pose reminiscent of that night in the alley behind the Bronze when she had flayed him with her bitterly spoken words. Instead he found himself being surrounded by her as she flung herself down on top of him, her mouth eagerly devouring his as she tugged impatiently at his shirt.

The silence between them spoke volumes as they clung together in desperation. Kisses were met with equal fervor and hands clutched demandingly as they writhed together on the worn carpet. He flipped her beneath him, a soundless gasp escaping him as her small hand encircled his turgid member, guiding him home.

She moaned as he filled her, driving away all the fear and uncertainty inside her as she lost herself in the sight, smell, and taste of him. They moved together, their bodies in perfect sync. Her eyes never wavered from his as she reveled in the wonder and adoration that spilled from his.

The strength and swiftness of her climax took her breath away. Buffy threw her head back, his name a rapturous hiss from between clenched teeth as she tightened her muscles around him and dug her nails into his churning backside.

Spike growled at her actions, fighting a losing battle with his demon. He turned his shifting face away from her, not wanting the sight of his ridges and fangs to spoil the moment. When she realized what he was trying to do, she took his face in her hands and guided him to her neck.

Any resistance died a quick death as she urged him on. Purring softly in appreciation, he laved the fragrant skin over her pulse with his roughened tongue before gently biting down.
The initial sting of pain was quickly replaced by the most incredible pleasure she had ever felt. He slowed his thrusts to match the rhythm of his lips on her neck; each pull bringing another crashing wave of blissful sensation.

Moved by some primal instinct, she lunged forward and closed her teeth over the faded scars of Drusilla’s mark. Uncaring of the ramifications, she bit down, her blunt teeth tearing at his flesh and drawing blood.

His howl of ecstasy was deafening and he shuddered uncontrollably against her. The tug of her mouth as she suckled at the wounds she had inflicted sent him over the edge and he growled savagely as he spilled himself within her incredible heat.

They moved as one in the aftermath, both licking up the last drops of blood before lifting their heads and simultaneously uttering one word.

“Mine.”

Replete, they clung tenaciously, savoring the few precious remaining moments before the world spun out of control once more. Neither offered paltry excuses for what had occurred; no explanations were needed.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Buffy whispered. “I could, I think. One day I think I could…”

~@~@~@~

An unearthly silence reigned as Spike stared incredulously at Buffy. She lay among the rubble, her slight body completely still; a look of ineffable peace on her face.

An anguished whimper escaped him as the rising sun drove him back, keeping him from joining the others at her side. He staggered as close as he dared, uncaring of his own decimated body as he fell to his knees. His eyes never left her as he reached out with his mind, relying on the ancient claiming ritual they had shared to seek out the faintest of connections, some sign that her essence still lingered.

There was no answer to his desperate inner pleas. Their connection was severed; he felt nothing from her. She was gone.

Spike began to weep, his face covered in blood and tears as he buried it in his hands. The emptiness he felt was unendurable. Ragged sobs were torn from him as he mourned her loss, not caring who saw his grief. A part of him was gone forever; the best part. The most beautiful thing he had ever known was lost to him forever.

The last words she had spoken to him rang in his ears.

“You’re wrong, you know…I could, I think. One day I think I could…”

a/n Major thanks to spikeslovebite for an AWESOME beta job, thank you!!!!!!
Chapter 2
By Bloodshedbaby
Spike distractedly crushed his cigarette out under the heel of his boot, leaving a smoldering imprint in the grass of the cemetery he was currently patrolling.
 
It had been 147 days.
 
    147 days she'd been gone; each minute stretching into a blind eternity. 147 days of emptiness so complete that Spike didn't think he'd ever dig himself out... and didn't really know if he wanted to.  He didn't deserve an end to this eternal torment; he had let her die. His mate was gone forever.  Even the fiery pits of hell would be a vacation compared to this endless living nightmare.
 
    But the same part of him that craved his death and an end to the pain also refused to give up the piece of her he still clung to. The memories of their stolen moments together...
 
    A part of him had died along with Buffy, something vital. She had lived in his heart; and he carried the weight of her absence inside of him where it taunted him mercilessly. That particular organ may no longer beat, but a significant piece of it had been lost that night all the same. 
 
    So now he did the only thing he could do by keeping his eye on everything Buffy had held close to her. Kept the nasties away from her little Scooby club, took care of Dawn, and threw himself into being the exact opposite of what he was-a soulless monster. 
 
    Not that his efforts were ever noticed. The others were too caught up in their own selfish needs and grief to notice anything. Spike didn't have a problem with that though, preferring his mostly solitary existence. He found it much easier to break down and grieve if there was nobody around to see you, and more importantly; mock you for it.  
 
    On more than one occasion, Spike had jerked out of a sound sleep; a question weighing heavily on his mind, 'Was it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?'
 
    And each time he would swiftly come to a firm conclusion. No, he wouldn’t trade having had Buffy's love for even a moment, even though the pain of that loss consumed him; an agony without end. There was an empty place inside him that she had so briefly touched, a place that would never be filled again.
 
    Pulling himself out of his morose thoughts, Spike stopped and extended his senses, hoping for a spot of violence to provide just a bit of cloud coverage for his shredded emotions. He frowned a bit at the surge of static electricity in the air, his gelled hair feeling the effects.
 
    He was lucky enough to be patrolling solo tonight, something that always came as a blessing.  During the times when he couldn't escape patrolling with the soddin' Scoobies, it always felt like a bad comedy routine. How had the Slayer tolerated their ineptitude for so many years? He'd lost count of the times he'd had to bail their asses out of one scrape or another. Not that he was ever thanked for his heroics, of course; listening as blatant excuses spilled from their ungrateful mouths about how they didn't really need his help. Yet they let him take care of Dawn without a second thought. 
 
    There was a scuffling noise in the far corner of the cemetery and Spike allowed a cruel grin to slide across his face. He welcomed the distraction of a newly risen vamp with bad timing, picking this particular moment to rise when Spike was on the grounds.  It was a brief reprieve in a barren world, and Spike decided to let it extend a bit longer than usual. Anything to give his life a small hint of color.
 
   It didn't take long for the fledgling to flounder under Spike's brutal attack. Violence against his kind was the only outlet he allowed himself these days; the only thing that made him forget for just a moment that he was alone. Alcohol just served to be the depressant it really was. He’d learned the hard way that there was no solace to be found at the bottom of a bottle, plus his duties to take care of Dawn were hampered when he was drunk, and that just wouldn't do.
 
     After pulverizing almost every bone in his unworthy opponent's body, Spike finally whipped out the stake nestled in the pocket of his black leather duster and poised it above the beaten vampire.  As his arm plunged down to drive the sharp wooden point through shattered ribs and into a non-beating heart, Spike suddenly gasped in shock.
 
    The empty hole that Buffy had left behind in his heart suddenly began writhing; a quivering awareness that sent shivers down his spine.  He stared unfocused as vampire dust settled in the grass, trying to make sense of this feeling that had been denied to him since the moment Buffy's body had finished its deadly decent off the tower. 
 
    His whole body shook as feelings suddenly slammed into him.
 
    Fear.
    Panic.
 
    He didn't think; he just moved, his feet swiftly taking him in the direction of the patch of earth that was Buffy's final resting place. His brain tried to wrap around what could have happened, but logic failed to find a foothold in his frantic mindset.
 
    When he reached the small cemetery where she was buried, Spike threw himself down on the grass where he had spent so many nights crying.  He didn't know what he was looking for and why it was so important that he be here, he was relying on instinct. 
 
 
    And then he heard it.
 
    Scratching.
 
   With a sharp cry, Spike knelt in the grass above her and began ripping it apart. Loosely packed chunks of earth were tossed aside in his desperate pursuit to reach the ornate wood coffin that Xander had built.  Fingers raw and bleeding, he went about the task with ferocious intent, the pain refusing to register as his focus intensified.  He could hear her now; muffled screams reaching his ears, bringing a flood of tears to his eyes. Spike didn't spare a thought to WHY; his sole objective to reach the smooth wooden lid... and find out what lay behind it. 
 
    After what seemed like an eternity, his fingers found the lid of the coffin. With an extra spurt of supernatural strength, Spike tore through the remaining remnants of earth, his heart clenching at the sounds of the frantic clawing and desperate pleas from within. 
 
    "Buffy?" 
 
    Silence.
 
    Then the sound of panicked crying once more, the echo of fingernails working the underside of the coffin lid as whatever was inside tried frantically to free itself.
 
    "I'm getting ya out, luv. Turn your head to the side; I'm gonna have to punch my way through."
 
    A muffled silence was his response that she heard the orders, and Spike proceeded to smash his way through the outer rim of the coffin.
 
    His fist crashed through on the second try. Spike tore at the offending wood still in his way and was suddenly met with a pair of wide, panic-stricken eyes, her mouth gasping for the fresh air that was now available. It was a face frozen in terror, but it was HER.  Spike realized the clothes she had been buried in had started the typical postmortem decomposition process, but somehow Buffy had been spared that same fate.  
 
    It reeked of witchcraft, but Spike wasn't concerned with the 'why's' at the moment.
 
  Spike hesitantly held a hand out to Buffy, almost afraid to touch her. "Come on, pet; let's get you out of there."
 
    There was no flicker of awareness that she had heard him, her eyes wide and filled with panic, her entire face a canvas of acute mental agony. Her breath was coming fast and shallow now, and Spike could hear her heart racing at an abnormally rapid pace.
   
With a muffled curse, Spike realized he was in game face and self disgust flooded him at the knowledge that he had added to her distress. Quickly, he shook off the ridges and fangs, never allowing his eyes to leave hers. 
 
    "S-spike?" her voice was husky and rough from disuse, and absolutely the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. Oh god, it was her voice.
 
    A fresh torrent of tears flooded his eyes, and he smiled down at her. "Yeah, pet. It's Spike."
 
    Her face crumpled as huge sobs suddenly overwhelmed her, and just as Spike was withdrawing his hand, she clutched at it in desperation. 
 
    In less than a moment, Spike had her out of the splintered coffin and onto solid ground where she collapsed against him, her sobs wracking her entire body. This was beyond pain, beyond terror, and Spike found himself crying along with her.
 
    "It's ok, luv. I've got you... Spike’s got you..." he murmured over and over.
 
    But her terror had now made her inconsolable and she clutched him with all the slayer strength she had still possessed, causing Spike to grunt as ribs gave way.
 
    But he was in heaven, and the pain she was inflicting on him just made it real. He wasn't dreaming. Somehow, Buffy had been returned to him.
 
    Her mental agony slowly became his as well, and Spike nearly crumpled under the weight of it. Without thought, his demon did the only thing it could do.

*******

    The panic, the fear... Buffy was helpless against a fresh onslaught of tears, oblivious to the cool, night air and the hole from which she had just emerged. 
 
    She had woken up inside her coffin, frightened and confused. She had instinctively tried to break her way out, but her fingers refused to find purchase against the slippery silk lining above her. Terror beyond anything she’d ever felt before had gripped her with savage, rending claws. She knew with horrified certainty that if she didn’t get air soon, she was going to die. Again.
Memories of where she had been and how she had come to be there were still fresh in her mind, and she sobbed inconsolably when she realized exactly where she was.

In her grave.
 
    A maelstrom of emotions had gripped her as she’d pounded and screamed at the wall above her, certain that no one could hear her cries.

And then she had heard him, felt him.
 
    Suddenly, she knew that everything would be okay, that HE would save her.
 
    But now -wrapped in his arms- the lingering horror of her ordeal quickly overwhelmed her and she was helpless against its cruel onslaught. She had almost suffocated to death in her own coffin; buried alive...  Buffy didn't think that she'd ever recover or feel normal again. Too many emotions began slamming into her at once, making it impossible for her to deal with them... Her heart pounded and her breath whistled torturously in her throat as she gave in to the blinding panic that swept over her.

    Then she had felt his fangs slide into the mark he had left on her neck the night she died and was filled with a sudden, blissful contentment.
 
    Here was utter peace.
 
    She found peace with a vampire's teeth embedded in her throat. The irony of that fact was not lost on her, and even in her tortured mental state she realized his intent. This bite wasn’t about control, or passion, or claiming. This was meant to calm her by taking into himself all that was causing her pain and anguish.

The tears stopped, her breathing evened out, and her eyes fluttered closed. She tipped her head back to allow him better access to her jugular.
 
    Trust.
 
    After what seemed an eternity, Buffy felt him gently retract his fangs from the holes in her neck. He lapped at the wounds, the soft brush of his tongue over her skin tickling slightly. She opened her eyes, looking up into his worried, fearful face.
 
    Just like that, she realized he was nervous about her reaction to his way of dealing with her tormented outburst. Still sniffling, she offered him a slight smile.
 
     "Thanks. I think I needed that."
 
    The answering smile went a long way towards soothing her.
 
    "Buffy..." his voice trailed off as the words he wanted to say fled. By the taste of her, there was no doubt that this was his Buffy.

But how?

Better yet… WHY?

TBC
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Chapter Three
Written by Starshine
 
Buffy buried her head in Spike’s chest, shaking uncontrollably. The dampness of the cold ground began to seep through the thin clothing she wore, filling her veins with shards of ice. In the space of a heartbeat, something had violently ripped her from the all-encompassing warmth and peace that she had known since falling to her death. Now she was back in a place filled with bright, glaring lights, harsh noises, and painful confusion.
 
The night swelled around her in a cacophony of jangling sounds and she flinched closer to her savior. It was all quickly becoming too much to take in once more, but before her fears could manifest themselves in another fit of tears; she became conscious of a rumbling vibration beneath her cheek. Spike was purring.
 
Sensing her rising panic, Spike held Buffy as tight as he could in an attempt to soothe his tormented mate. He shifted, lifting her off the cold ground and onto his lap, trying his best to protect her from the harsh elements she now found herself a part of again. He felt her take a deep, steadying breath, trying to follow his lead and welcoming the peace he offered her so freely. Within moments she was limp in his arms, her head resting against his chest.
 
Spike ran a shaky hand through her tangled hair as he rocked her back and forth.
 
“It’s not right,” he whispered.
 
Buffy reluctantly pulled away to look into his eyes. What she saw nearly made her weep. The myriad of emotions she found there entranced her; joy, sorrow, pain, anger, and love. Mostly love. A deep, abiding love.
 
“You shouldn’t be here.”
 
The words were strained, and she was conscious of the effort he was making to keep his own selfish wants repressed.  
 
“I dreamed of this; of having you here with me just one more time, but not like this. Not knowing what it cost you. Being apart from you was hell, but knowing what you were taken from, where you were…”
 
Buffy’s fingers pressed against his lips and cut off the rest of his words. Her somber green eyes followed the path of her fingers as she traced the shape of his mouth before she leaned into him and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips.
 
Spike allowed himself a brief moment to savor the touch of her lips on his, and then he pulled slowly away from her, searching her eyes for some explanation of what had just occurred.
 
Buffy looked down, her fingers worrying the buttons on his red shirt. A small shiver raced through her small frame.
 
He quickly set her aside and got to his feet, pulling her up with him. Shrugging off his coat, he wrapped it around her and hauled her back against him, almost afraid to let her get to far from him.
 
“You must be freezing, pet. Let’s get you home so we can suss out what the hell happened.”
 
Buffy pressed her hand against his chest in protest, her eyes wide with fear and apprehension.
 
“No, not there. Not yet,” she whimpered. “I can’t do this yet.”
 
Spike shushed her, rubbing his thumb lightly over the bite on her neck.
 
“Come on, then. I’ll take you back to my crypt. You can hide out there for awhile, get your bearings, so to speak,” he said.
 
Buffy smiled up at him. She turned to walk away and gasped in alarm as her legs started to give way. He was at her side in an instant, scooping her up in his arms.
 
“I can walk, Spike.”
 
Spike smirked. There was the slightest bit of the old Buffy in her tart comment.
 
“Didn’t think you couldn’t, pet.”
 

 
Buffy allowed herself to be carried across the cemetery. She could sense Spike’s need to have her close, so she made no further protests. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion swept over her and she was grateful for the strength in the arms that held her. Safe in his embrace, she rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in the scent that was so uniquely Spike.
 
She sighed, feeling a deep sense of regret that she had denied herself the comfort of his touch in the weeks before her death. Her behavior towards him during that hateful time of her life made her cringe inwardly, and although he had accepted her apology the night she died, she had to wonder if she would ever be able to forgive herself. Throughout her life she had allowed the opinions of others to influence her thoughts and emotions, often to her own detriment. Not this time, she vowed. She wasn’t sure why she had been brought back, but she was determined that this time would be different, that she wouldn’t be the emotional cripple that she had been before.
 
Spike kicked open the crypt door, the loud bang it made causing her to stiffen and throw her arms around his neck in fear.
 
“’M sorry, luv,” he apologized as he deposited her on top of the stone sarcophagus.
 
Buffy looked around, noticing the homey touches he had added since she had been gone.
 
“You’ve been busy.”
 
Spike looked around and shrugged. “I figured I would be here for awhile. Thought I should do somethin’ about the digs. Plus, Nibblet hangs around here after school when she can shake the Wiccas, doin’ her homework and watchin’ that God-awful VH1. Tried to make it more comfortable for her.”
 
“How is she?” she asked, her heart in her hazel eyes.
 
He didn’t even attempt to lie to her. “Miserable. Misses you somethin’ fierce. She spends most of her time with Glenda, feels closer to her than the others, I guess. She went through a phase where she was skippin’ every other day of school and got caught. The watcher gave her a stern talkin’ to and she’s settled down some.”
 
Turning away from her tear-filled gaze, he busied himself with getting her some water and finding the first aid kit to doctor the bloody scrapes on her knuckles. When he felt she’d had enough time to regain some measure of control, he returned to her side.
 
He took her small hands in his and stared at the blood that streaked the backs of them, refusing to meet her eyes.
 
“I know I was a bit of a ponce back there. If I hurt you by not sayin’ this sooner, I’m sorry, but it’s damn good to see you again, Slayer.”

Buffy bit her bottom lip, taken aback that she actual felt like smiling after her ordeal. She wondered how upset he would get if she told him how sweet he was being.
 
“Thanks for getting me out and that…thing you did back there,” she said quietly, her fingers playing across the fresh bite marks on her neck.
 
Buffy tried to run a hand through her snarled hair, frowning as she realized what she must look like.
 
Spike had to hide a grin at the expression on her face.
 
“Feeling not so fresh?” he inquired.
 
Buffy arched an eyebrow at him. “I could use a shower.”
 
Spike thought for a moment. He made his way across the room and knelt before a small wooden chest. Flipping back the lid, he pulled out a duffle bag. He carried it back to her but then stopped, suddenly looking uncomfortable and extremely embarrassed.
 
“I uh…I have plumbing downstairs if you want to take a shower,” he mumbled, handing her the duffle bag with a resigned expression.
 
Buffy looked down at it. Her eyes widened as she slowly lifted her head to look at him.
 
“This…this is mine,” she said, opening the bag to find the clothes and the toiletries she had packed on the day they tried to run from Glory in the Winnebago.
 
Spike nodded, suddenly interested in the dusty ground at his feet.
 
“When I got rid of the Scoobie get-a-way mobile after you….it was still in there. Everyone else had gotten their stuff out, but I didn’t know what to do with yours. Dawn was still pretty torn up about what had happened; started bloody cryin’ at the sight of a stake once. Couldn’t give it to her, so I just kept it.”
 
He finally looked up, flinching at the sympathetic light he found in her eyes and completely misunderstanding the reason for it.
 
“It wasn’t like before, so don’t get all snippy. Haven’t built another bloody shrine to you, if that’s what your thinkin’,” he said defensively, sounding more like his old big bad persona for the first time since her sudden reappearance.
 
Buffy sighed. She hadn’t been thinking that at all, but she was too tired to go into it with him right now. She looked down smoothing out her skirt.
 
“Well, I think I can safely assume you didn’t have a hand in picking out what to bury me in,” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “This is awful.”
 
She tried to laugh but burst into sobs instead. Spike was beside her in a flash, gathering her up in his arms and rocking her back and forth, doing whatever he could it try to ease his mate’s pain and confusion.
 

 
A little while later, Spike paced the upper level as he listened for Buffy to emerge from the shower in the lower level of his crypt. He had been waiting for quite a while, enjoying the heady vanilla scent of her soap and shampoo that wafted through the air.
 
The water stopped and her heard her moving around. He decided to give her a few minutes to dress before going down to see if she needed any help getting up the ladder. He stopped his pacing and closed his eyes, using the pull of the Claim to gauge her emotions. Connecting with her, he sighed with relief. She wasn’t hurting or in pain. In fact she was feeling slightly amused, surprised and humbled.
 
He frowned in confusion. What could she be doing? He heard the rustle of papers and a soft gasp from her and his eyes widened. With lightening speed, he jumped down to the second floor and whipped around the ladder.
 
“Oh Bollocks,” he grumbled, taking a step out of the shadows.
 
Buffy stood there with the papers in her hand, looking down at them in wonder. Most of them were sketches of her, but there was also a few scribbled lines of sappy poetry he had tried to compose.
 
“Spike? You…you did these?”
 
Spike moved, trying to take them. She jerked away, clutching them protectively to her chest. He sighed in defeat. No way could he weasel his way out of this.
 
“I get bored sometimes. Sunnydale is not exactly a 24 hour Mardi Gras.”
 
“Then why stay?” Buffy asked.
 
“Thought it was obvious. Made a promise to a lady that I would protect her lil sis until the end of the world,” Spike whispered, taking a step closer to her.
 
“Spike…”
 
“Wait.” He held up a hand to silence her. “I want you to know  ... I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her. If I had done that ... even if I didn't make it ... you wouldn't have had to jump,” he said in anguish.
 
“But I want you to know, I did save you. Not when it counted, of course, but ... after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again ... do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways …”
 
“Spike, stop,” Buffy commanded, her voice sounding stronger; more like her old self.
 
Spike’s head snapped up, his eyes unflinching as they met hers.
 
“I couldn’t get out of that coffin. I tried, but I thought…“ Buffy shuddered for a moment then began to walk over to him. “Then, I felt you coming. I knew I was going to be all right.”
 
She stopped, her lips scant inches from his. She looked into his eyes, trying to convey all that she felt. “You DID save me when it counted. Tonight…you saved me,” she whispered.
 
Their lips touched for the briefest second before the sound of Spike’s crypt door crashing open interrupted what promised to be the sweetest kiss either one of them had ever experienced.
 
“SPIKE!!” They heard from above. There was a flurry of footsteps flooding into his dwelling.
 
Buffy stiffened. Spike stroked his fingers over her cheek and down her slender neck to his mark, rubbing it in a soothing gesture.
 
“Spike, are you here?” They heard it the same voice call out. Both recognized it as Willow’s voice. Belatedly, Spike remembered sensing the powerful magic surrounding Buffy as he dug her out of her supposed final resting the place.
 
Of course, The Witch…
 
He looked down at Buffy sensing that her suspicions mirrored his; that somehow her beloved Scoobies had something to do with her untimely return.
 
She was not ready to see them, not yet.
 
“Don’t worry, pet,” he said softly, guiding her over to sit on the rumpled bed. His mild tone belied the cold fury in his darkening blue eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. Buffy found herself relieved to know that his rage wasn’t directed at her, but at the interlopers upstairs. He brushed a kiss over her hair and went to the ladder.
 
“I’ll take care of this.”
tbc...
thank you to Spikeslovebite for beta'ing this chapter!
Thank you so much for the reviews! PLEASE keep them coming!!

Thank you soooo much for all of the reviews we've gotten on this fic!!

Chapter 4
Written by Bloodshedbaby
Beta'd by Spikeslovebite

4
Any other day, any other scenario, the panic and fear flooding the crypt above him would have been relished and enjoyed. Tonight however, it just filled him with a smoldering rage and Spike was barely able to keep his demon caged.

With a stealthiness inherent of his predatory make-up, Spike effortlessly ascended the ladder to the top level.

There, he found Xander, Willow, Anya...and Dawn huddled in a tight circle, backs rigid with anxiety and distress as they talked amongst themselves.

'What could have happened to her?' he heard Dawn cry, and his gut clenched. The 'bit had been in on it, this thoughtless resurrection. Then his mind flashed to Dawn's botched attempt at summoning her mum back to life, and he realized he shouldn't be too surprised. This time, however, she had help. And not just a well-meaning, but misguided vamp to escort her through the magicks, but at least one witch who knew the consequences of calling on the power needed for such a spell. a 1000 year old vengeance demon who should have known better... and, well, an idiot, Spike decided, not for the first time. No surprise with the lack of brains with that sod.

There was still an underlying current of power sweeping the air, potent and heady that set Spike's teeth instantly on edge.

"Don't you lot ever bleedin' knock?" he growled, stalking purposefully towards them.

"Eep!" Dawn swung around, eyes wide, and Spike could hear the sudden escalation of multiple heartbeats as their involuntary 'fight or flight' adrenaline response kicked in "You so totally scared me!"

Spike kept a hard mask in place as he took in the dilated, dark eyes of his l'il bit and Red, the final nail now pounded in the proverbial coffin. He didn't want to believe that Dawn had been involved in pulling Buffy from heaven, but he had the evidence right before him. She reeked of it. The whelp and his bird looked a little off, but nowhere in the same league.

"What do you want?" Spike tried to keep the anger out of his voice.

"What's the matter, Spike?" Dawn asked, frowning. "Hostile much?"

Spike ignored her as he kept his stare pinned on Willow. "Uh...." Willow stuttered, now unsure how to begin and dreading the vampire's reaction. "Have you, uh, been patrolling tonight?"

"Nope," Spike lied.

"Oh." Disappointment overflowed in the quietly spoken word. "So, uh... y-you haven't run into anything...unusual, then?"

"Like what?" Spike arched one scarred brow in unfriendly question.

"Like... uh....," Willow glanced helplessly at Dawn.

"Like... Buffy?" Dawn cautiously asked, fearing the wrath about to be unleashed but needing the reassurance that their attempts had been successful; the hopeless despair upon seeing the decimated gravesite still fresh in her mind.

"What did you do, Dawn?" The question was asked with such quiet lethalness that Dawn unconsciously took a step back. There had never been an occasion that she could remember where she had feared Spike, but she had never seen this cold detachment pointed in her direction before, and a small voice inside of her suddenly questioned if she had allowed Willow to do the right thing.

"Me? Nothing!" Dawn squeaked, looking helplessly at willow.

"Red?"

Willow found herself flinching back in fear before remembering the chip, the fact that Spike was actually a vampire suddenly becoming obvious once more, having been ignored or forgotten as time went on.

Confident in his inability to do them harm, Willow stuck her chin out in petulant defiance. "We did a spell."

"Are you bloody insane?" Spike growled, his eyes hardening.

"Hey back off," Xander suddenly injected, his own hostility towards Spike clearly evident on his face. "Nobody asked you"

Spike crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep calming breath. "That's right, nobody did ask me. Wonder why this is, eh? Been around a while, know some things." He directed his hostile stare back and forth between Willow and Dawn. "So, why don't you tell me exactly what you're doing here, standing in my crypt for then, eh? You obviously need me for something, or you wouldn't have burst in like you did."

"They did a spell to bring Buffy back, only now they can't find her and they don't know what they brought back." The explanation was suddenly spilled by Anya, who had stood in aggravated silence next to Xander. She was tired and just wanted to go home.

Spike's mouth tightened into a grim line as he fought off his demon's rage. "Any reason particular reason why you felt the need to mess with the natural order of things?"

Willow's jaw dropped. "She went to HELL, Spike. As in, place of eternal torment?"

"And what makes you so certain of that, eh?"

The vehemence which Spike posed that question should have clued Willow into the fact that he knew more than he was letting on, but her mind was too drained and too frazzled to notice. She tried to worked frantically around that question. "I uh... did a multi-dimension locator spell," she quickly supplied, hoping she sounded convincing..

"Spike, my sister was in hell," Dawn's voice cracked as tears tried to take hold. "We had to do something! Don't you understand? I couldn't let my sister stay in..."

Spike's heart constricted at the pool of tears in Dawn's eyes. He understood her reasons for wanting her sis back; had held her enough nights while her salty tears had soaked his shirt in pure misery to know that Dawn's life without Buffy was its own private hell. But he had a feeling that Red's reasons were a bit more selfish.

"So... you did a locator spell? And it said she was in hell?" Spike's eyes never left Willow's face as he watched her fidget.

"Um... yeah."

"Come on, the Worthless Wonder doesn't know anything. We're wasting time here," Xander announced, turning to face the door.

"Do you know anything Spike?" Dawn's eyes were pleading.

Spike opened his mouth to reply when a voice behind him spoke.

"You left me in my coffin."

The shocked gasps echoed in the stone crypt.

"Buffy?" Dawn, Willow and Xander reverently whispered, while Anya remained silent, studying the figure before her.

Spike turned slowly to see Buffy's head peeking through the hole in the stone floor. He held his hand out to her in silent question and his heart leapt into his throat when she emerged slowly up the ladder and slipped her warm, hand into his.

"Oh my god!! Buffy!!!" Dawn cried, moving forward to hug her sister, not daring to believe that it was really her and not the BuffyBot, which Dawn knew was still tucked away in the basement of the Magic Shop after a few failed attempts to have it assume Buffy's rightful place as Slayer of the Hellmouth.

Buffy held up one hand in quiet rebuke to halt her sister's rush, face closing off to the hurt look that settled on Dawn's face. "You left me in my coffin." Buffy repeated softly, refusing to yield to the temptation to sweep Dawn into a crushing hug. The knowledge that her sister was involved in what Buffy considered the ultimate betrayal was excruciating.

Dawn sent a betrayed look in Willow's direction, her bottom lip quivering, and her eyes wide with horrified realization. "Willow? What did we do?"

Willow's haunted look matched Dawn's as denial sprung immediately from her lips. "Dawnie, I swear I didn't know..."

Tormented yet hopeful blue eyes turned back to Buffy. "Oh my god... Buffy..." A reverent look crossed Dawn's face. "Is it really you?"

With a solemn nod, Buffy confirmed her newly resurrected status, her hand almost crushing Spike's with the strength of her frantic grip.

"We did it," Xander stated with awe, still buzzing on the power from the spell.

"Yeah... you really did it," Buffy whispered quietly, her voice hitching with simmering emotion. Tears once again flooded her eyes and she looked at Spike helplessly, more than willing to place herself in his capable hands where she knew she would find solace from this harsh reality.

Without missing a beat, Spike gathered her close; Buffy's cheek instinctively seeking comfort against the hard contours of his chest as her arms wrapped around his waist.

"Hello! Comforting male hero type standing right here!" Xander complained, taking a step forward to remove Buffy from Spike's grip, finding himself more than a little irked by Buffy's ungrateful behavior. It's not as if it had been the picnics of all picnics evoking whatever goddess Willow had decided to have her witchy way with. Gratitude would have been nice. Falling into his arms even nicer, but hey, he wasn't selfish.

The low dangerous growl that emanated from Spike at Xander's move startled the intruders, and they all stared aghast at the game faced vampire before them, his sharp teeth bared and yellow eyes narrowed with warning.

"Spike...?" Dawn whispered, confused by this conflicting behavior. The fact that Buffy didn't react to the danger being posed was puzzling, and once more Dawn felt a tinge of fear being in Spike's presence.

Game face retreated back into the sharp angles that made up Spike's face and he turned his attention back to Buffy, burrowing his nose into her hair, the damp scent of earth still clinging to the golden strands.

Xander rounded on Willow. "You didn't tell us that this spell was going to make her crave the dead! It was just supposed to bring that what was dead to life!!"

"I didn't know!" Willow cried, all self assuredness gone now, the insecure teenager re-emerging in its place.

Anya continued to watch the couple, noting the tender way Spike ran his hand along the back of her head, the low rumbling purr vibrating from his chest- and most telling- was the way Buffy accepted each tender caress from this particular vampire. Her anguish becoming less palpable as Spike slowly soothed her. Something was niggling at Anya, some important font of knowledge that explained the behavior she was witnessing.

The overly-protective vampire. The purring. The way Buffy instinctively sought his comfort. It came to her suddenly, and she blamed her addled brain for being so long on the uptake.

She had just turned to tell Xander her suspicions when her man in question suddenly tensed, his body bristling with rage.

"You son of a bitch," Xander bit out, his hand going to his back pocket to retrieve the stake housed there.

"Xander!" Anya called out, trying to get his attention. 'Really, Xander could be so dense sometimes', she thought with fond irritation.

If Spike heard Xander's outburst he paid no heed, the blonde in his arms his sole focus, turning her so that she was shielded from their prying eyes. He knew instinctively that Buffy needed a few moments to get herself pulled together again.

Xander, whose sense of outrage had escalated beyond anything he was capable of dealing with, stepped forward in hurried determination to relieve Buffy of her most current problem. Spike. The bleached bastard vampire. The one who would soon be a pile a dust. Hey, then maybe Buffy might show them a scrap of gratitude.

Xander reached the entwined pair and lifted his stake in preparation to rid the world of Spike once and for all. He set his teeth and brought the stake down in a swift, hard arc, aiming between the shoulder blades.


A hair’s breadth from his target, Xander’s wrist was caught in a vice-like grip and twisted viciously. The stake clattered to the floor and a ragged scream tore from his lips as he dropped to his knees in front of an extremely pissed off Buffy

"No one touches Spike," she ground out, her eyes now glittering with a ferocity the likes of which Xander had never seen. At least not directed towards him. Well, much, he amended quickly.

"But Buffy," Xander griped from his crumpled state on the hard floor of the crypt while glaring at the vampire in question, "that bloodsucking bastard bit you when you were big with the vulnerable. Can't you see how wrong that is?"
tbc....

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Chapter 5
by Starshine
 
Buffy turned to Spike for a moment, her shadowed eyes beseeching as she silently conveyed her intent.
 
He crossed his arms, hating the whole situation. He had hoped to buy her some time, give her some measure of peace. It would have been a pale comparison to what had been stolen from her, but still; he had wanted to give her more of a break before she was forced to deal with a situation like the one in front of her.
 
But, no...in typical Scoobie fashion, her so-called friends proved that they cared only about their own selfish needs and had ruthlessly thrust this confrontation upon her.
 

Buffy had been back less than a few hours and nearly every minute of that time she had found herself fighting. Fighting to claw her way out of a cold, dark coffin. Fighting to readjust to a world she thought had been left behind. And now another battle, not with a big nasty demon or newly risen fledgling, but with them...the people that were supposed to love her.
 
He would have gladly chased them away, made them stew in their fear and confusion, force them to suffer the way she had, but the decision wasn't his to make. This was Buffy’s fight; all he could do was sit back and watch.
 
She continued to stare at him waiting for confirmation that he would allow her to handle this.
 
Spike closed his eyes for a moment, nostrils flaring as he drew in a deep, unnecessary breath, then nodded slowly.
 
Buffy turned around, looking down at Xander and offering him a hand up.
 
Hesitantly, he accepted her hand, raising to his feet. She held on, gripping tightly to let him know that if he had tried his previous course of action once more, there would be serious repercussions. Visibly startled at her show of strength in defense of the evil undead, he yanked his hand away from Buffy and hurried to join the rest of the group.
 
Xander stared at her in shock. Coming back from a hell dimension must have left her pretty confused. Maybe she needed to be reminded of what they were to her, of how much more they meant to her than the worthless creature sitting on the stone sarcophagus behind her.
 
"Look at yourself, Buffy. Spike's working you and you don’t even care!" he bellowed. "You'd never let him touch you before, it's this coming back from wherever you were that has you all screwed up!"
 
"I let him do more than touch me on the night I died, Xander!" Buffy yelled.
 
Four pairs of eyes widened and four mouths gaped open in shocked surprise as she continued.
 
"Besides, who are you to question my ability to gauge right from wrong? How dare you, after what you guys just did?" she said, her voice low. "As for Spike taking advantage of me? You’re making a lot of assumptions."
 
“He bit you!” Xander yelled.
 
“And I let him. I wanted him to,” Buffy admitted. “But that's between me and Spike.”
 
“Buffy, we know you've been through a lot. You were in a hell dimension, probably surrounded by things like him. But we're your friends, remember?”
 
Buffy clenched her fist trying to calm herself.
 
“My Friends?” She questioned.
 
“My Friends who left me to crawl out of a coffin.” She absentmindedly ran her fingers across the bite marks on her neck. “Spike felt me. He was the one that dug me out. He was the only one that was there. Where were the rest of you?” Buffy questioned.
 
“We didn’t know. I swear, Buffy!” Willow cried.
 
Buffy looked at her best friend. She searched for an inkling of remorse in the redheaded witch's expression, but found none.
 
“You didn’t know... That’s pretty obvious. What did you know when you decided to rescue me from the hell dimension, Willow? Did you know for sure I was there? What told you that I was suffering so much that you had to play hero? A dream? Some prophecy?” Buffy goaded.
 
Willow took a step back toward Anya.
 
“No we just thought…”
 
“Did you!” Buffy yelled, tears flooding her eyes. “Did you stop to think for one moment that things might be the way they were supposed to be? Did you stop to think maybe I was all right? That maybe I was…”
 
Buffy swayed on her feet for a moment. As she fought to regain her balance, she felt two strong, cool hands holding her up by her hips. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, feeling the calm he sent through his touch.
 
Dawn looked at her sister, her tortured words swimming around her head. She let out a horrified gasp.
 
“You weren't in a hell dimension were you?” she asked her voice trembling.
 
Buffy looked down, shaking her head.
 
“You were...”
 
“At peace,” Spike interjected, wrapping her in his arms. She immediately turned, accepting the comfort he offered.
 
“Oh God, Buffy we…”
 
“Thought you knew where she was Red? Locator spell and all,” Spike spat out, his narrowed eyes never leaving Willow's flushed face. The Wicca was so jacked up on dark mojo she could hardly finish a coherent thought.
 
Dawn stared at her sister, her heart breaking. “This is my fault. I'm sorry, Buffy. I thought you were being tortured. If I knew you were..I would have never let them do it.”
 
Spike, still holding Buffy tightly in his arms, looked at Dawn with wary confusion.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“She used her.” They heard a quiet voice say from the door of the crypt.
 
Tara MacClay hesitated for a moment before slowly entering, her eyes running over Buffy with an expression of immeasurable sadness in their depths. Buffy stiffened for a moment, watching the blonde witch carefully as she tried to gage her involvement in tonight's events.
 
It was plain to see by the look on Tara's face that she too felt betrayed.
 
“How?” Spike asked, his eyes flickering gold for a moment as he glared at Willow.
 
“The Monks used an Animation Spell to make Dawnie. It brings life to that which is not living.”
 
Dawn hugged herself tightly, her head lowered as she stared at the ground.
 
“You used her? Like some sort of battery? Willow you could have killed her!” Buffy screamed.
 
Willow gulped hard. How did all this turn out so twisted? All she had wanted was Buffy back. She'd convinced herself that she was doing the right thing. Dawn needed her sister. Willow was a poor substitute for the fallen slayer. Dawn needed so many things that she couldn't give her, things she was still learning herself. She was barely 22 and suddenly she was a teenager's surrogate mother?
 
Tara walked over to Dawn putting her hand around her shoulder.
 
“I know why you let them do it, Dawn. You just missed your sister.” Tara looked at Willow. “But you...You said you wouldn’t do it. You promised me. I told you this could happen, but you did it anyway.”
 
Willow and Xander exchanged a look.
 
“We thought we were helping,” Xander said quietly.
 
“Well you thought wrong,” Spike snarled.
 
“Oh and you're so much better than us? Don’t get all self-righteous on us Spike! Don't tell me you're not happy. Look me in the eyes and tell me when you saw Buffy alive, that that wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence!” Xander challenged.
 
Spike flinched. As angry as he was, the whelp was right. The ache that been his constant companion was gone; replaced by the warmth of Buffy, alive and in his arms. He couldn't deny it.
 
“The difference is; he listened,” Dawn whispered. She lifted her head to gaze at her sister.
 
“I told you all what Buffy said to me before she jumped. She told me to take care of everyone, and that we were supposed to take care of each other. To be strong. She said she'd figured it out and that she was going to be okay. We didn't listen. But Spike did."
 
Buffy buried her face in Spike‘s cool chest. She wanted to forgive her sister, to take her in her arms and tell her it was all right, but she couldn't. Not yet.
 
Spike lifted her chin with a finger and looked into her eyes. He could feel her distress rapidly escalating once more.
 
“Spike? No more. Please, I can't...” she choked out.
 
He nodded, kissing the top of her head. "Come on, pet. Let's get you tucked in."
 
“Buffy, this is insane!” screamed Xander.
 
“SHE SAID NO MORE!” Spike roared.
 
Dawn flinched. Seeing her misery, Tara gathered the teenager in her arms.
 
“Leave it,” she commanded in a no-nonsense voice. “Buffy, we’ll be here when you’re ready, and not before." Her eyes hardened once more as she glared at the rest of the group. "We should all go now.”
 
Anya pulled Xander toward the door. When he resisted, she yanked viciously on his arm. "Xander Harris, move it. NOW!"
 
Tara looked at him her eyes pleading him to follow his girlfriend’s lead. Defeated he walked out.
 
Holding a crying Dawn, Tara smiled softly at Spike. “I’ll take care of her.”
 
She ushered Dawn out, pausing for a brief moment to look at her girlfriend then slowly walking out.
 
Willow stood watching as Spike guided Buffy toward the stone sarcophagus, gently sitting her down. He turned, walking toward her with his eyes still filled with rage.
 
She backed hurriedly out of the crypt until she stood right outside the doorway. She looked at Buffy sitting there with her eyes closed, arms tightly wrapped around herself.
 
“Please, Spike. Tell her I didn’t understand.”
 
Spike looked at each one of them for a moment, then back at Willow.
 
“That’s the thing about magic, Red, There's always consequences….Always.”
 
He slammed the door, leaving them all standing there feeling shut out, each wondering if they would ever be forgiven. Wondering if Buffy would ever let any of them back in.
 tbc

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a/n-WOW! another chapter!! We're just cranking this baby out!! And believe me when I tell you that your reviews are GREATLY responsible!!!!

Chapter 6
By Bloodshedbaby

A thin layer of mist hugged the ground as Riley Finn walked towards the heavy, metal gate that surrounded the cemetery, adding a sinister ambiance to a place already known to breed evil.

He had come as soon as he'd heard. He hadn't stopped moving since he had received the news, his need to return to Sunnydale overwhelming. Even though dawn was just hours away-and with it the shroud of safety the sun provided-, he'd ignored that offer of protection in his unwavering haste.

He had to return to her.

Pausing to take a deep breath, Riley heard a noise and whipped around; his trademark military issue body heat sensor firmly gripped in his hand. He may be in a hurry, but he wasn't stupid. Just as he suspected, the figure coming toward him failed to register on his sophisticated equipment and his free hand reached for one of the many weapons he carried.

His body relaxed a fraction when he suddenly recognized the vampire.

They regarded each other with a cool, measuring gaze; memories of their last meeting lending credence to the utter chilliness of their visual inspection.

"You heard?" Angel finally spoke.

Riley gave a curt nod, his face clouding with unreadable emotion. "I came as soon as I found out."

Angel sighed, wondering which one they had called first in a burst of petty jealousy. "Yeah, me too." He tipped his head in the direction of the cemetery. "Just had to see for myself before I saw them."

"Yeah." A tentative bond was suddenly formed as Angel and Riley turned in unison and silently walked through the gate; Angel leading the way.

Both men tensed with anticipation the closer they came to the small patch of earth that had been dedicated to the girl they had both loved and lost.

Riley's eyes widened with harsh disbelief at the sight that suddenly greeted him, quickly looking over at a now game-faced Angel. "What the fuck happened?"

Angel could only growl the one word that explained everything in one clarifying rush.

"Spike."

Angel's black trench coat spun around his legs in a flurry of dark color as he turned around and stalked back toward the cemetery gates, so caught up in his sanctimonious rage that he remained completely oblivious to the human that trailed in his wake.

*********

Spike sat in his battered leather recliner, his mind a myriad of thoughts. Every one of his enhanced senses was focused on the girl that was finally asleep in his bed.

HIS bed, he thought with not a small measure of amazement. She was there because she wanted to be; not because of any threats or botched spells. Of her own accord and free will, Buffy had chosen to seek sanctuary with him.

It was awe inspiring.

Every beat of her heart, every soft, even breath that passed between her succulent lips, was noted with inspired reverence. Together they proved with every passing moment that Buffy was truly alive; sounding nothing less than the most harmonious of music to Spike's heartened ears.

He found himself suddenly and completely overwhelmed.

Swiping at tears that dared to plunge down his cheeks, Spike tipped his head back and offered a silent prayer to a God that had no use for him, his evil standing insuring that heaven and the utter peace that Buffy had experienced would never be his eternal reward

But... that was ok, because heaven was asleep in his bed at that moment... and that was more than he deserved.

A sudden crash brought Spike suddenly alert, his vampiric guise sliding instinctively into place. A humorless laugh echoed throughout the room when he saw the hulking figure marring his doorway. He should have known.

"Peaches," Spike said by way of greeting.

The growl that resulted from the mocking greeting was one that Angel had not dared to use on Spike since his soul had been inflicted upon him. It spoke of domination and was purely primal in its intent.

Ol' Angelus was pissed, no doubt about it, Spike thought wryly.

He growled back, refusing to yield to the unspoken demand of submission. Spike wasn't that vamp anymore; times had more than changed and it was time Angelus realized that. .

Angel's eyes narrowed with fury. How DARE Spike ignore his command? Stepping through the door, he suddenly found himself shouldered roughly aside as Riley barreled across the threshold.

Before Spike could react to this new threat, Riley had him pinned against the wall, one beefy arm splayed across his neck while his free hand held a stake in a lethal position over his heart. Forcefully struggling to free himself, Spike cried out in pain as the chip fired, misinterpreting his intent.

Riley suddenly found himself pushed to the ground and he looked up in astonishment to see the hulking figure of Angel above him.

But, for the moment, he chose to ignore the dark haired vamp. Instead, Riley focused the full brunt of his self righteous anger back on Spike.

"Where is she?" he bit out, his anger escalating as he took notice of the various articles of Buffy's clothing strewn around the crypt.

"Downstairs, you sod," Spike growled, rubbing his chest where the stake had penetrated his shirt and into the fleshy part of his pecs.

"You son of a bitch," Riley ground out. He picked himself up and with speed that surprised the two vampires made his way over to the hole and down the ladder.

"Hey!" Spike yelled after realizing the Cornpone's intent.

'She looks so peaceful' was Riley's first thought, seeing her lying in Spike's bed, the covers drawn chastely to her neck. Fury poured through him.

Resolve reaffirmed, Riley stalked to the bedside and snatched Buffy up into his arms, turning to face the ladder with his precious burden.

His high pitched scream sounded at the exact same time Buffy's shriek rent the air.

"NO!!!" she screamed, thrashing against the binding force, certain that she was trapped in her coffin once more.

"What the..." Riley yelled, losing his grip on his struggling cargo. He watched in horror as she crashed to the ground.

"GOD!" Buffy shrieked, coming fully awake upon impact with the cold, hard, floor. "What do I have to do to get any peace around here???" She picked herself up, straightening the tank top and boxer shorts she had been sleeping in. "Oh yeah. Die. How silly of me."

She looked over at the person responsible for jerking her out of a sound sleep. "RILEY???"

His face was a frozen mask of horror. "You're.... you're... alive...."

Buffy's brows knitted together in confusion and she was relieved to find herself swept up by Spike, who was shooting daggers at her ex boyfriend. "Of course she's bloody alive, you stupid sod."

Riley looked over in helpless confusion to Angel who had dropped down to the lower level and was now glaring at Spike with a mixture of vehemence and resentment.

"What? You thought she was... dead?" Angel asked, his forehead furrowing.

Riley nodded mutely, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Buffy had returned to the land of the living and was standing there... in Spike's arms. Eyes narrowed with disgust once more as he focused them on the one he deemed responsible. 'What the hell did you do to her, you sick fuck?"

Spike bristled at the accusation. "I didn't do anything, you git. Can blame her little friends for this little tableau."

Riley moved forward once more with lethal intent. "Right, like you're so trust worthy. I think I'll choose... not to believe you."

"Riley!" Buffy practically barked, exhaustion pouring from molecule in her body. "What the HELL are you doing here?"

"I came to pay my respects. I heard that you had...died. I came as soon as I found out."

Realization dawned on Angel. "And you thought that Spike had stolen Buffy's body?"

Spike's lips curled up in revulsion. "That's bloody disgusting."

"What?" Riley said defensively. "Like it's so hard to imagine? I know you wanted her."

Spike gently set Buffy on the bed, pulling the fleece throw off the end and settling it gently over her bare legs, bringing his hand up to gently cup her cheek before turning to look at Riley. "Yeah, you're right. I did want her."

Angel watched this interaction almost as if he was a casual observer, the tender strokes, the thoughtful touches... and a bit of his previous anger suddenly evaporated. Blind fury had gripped him upon receiving Xander's phone call just a few hours prior. First, there had been pure wonderment and joy upon hearing the news that Buffy was alive; her death had left a sad mark on his soul. Then his uplifted emotions had turned to anger upon hearing of Spike's involvement, and he had feared for her. Xander had painted a brutally disturbing picture, and Angel had bought it; flying up to Sunnydale in a whirlwind of misguided intent and sanctimonious determination.

Oh... he saw the vivid bite marks on Buffy's neck that Xander had spoke of... but he now also knew the reason for them.

Hearing the dark, dolorous sigh escape his grand-sire, Spike turned to look at him, a scarred eyebrow raised in question. "Got something to say, eh Peaches?"

"When? Before or after?"

Spike didn't pretend to misinterpret the question. He knew exactly what it was that the poof was asking. Lips curling into a defiant smirk, he replied, "Before."

Angel nodded once, his anger leaving him in one shallow breath. This was no thrall or intimidation as Xander had implied. Buffy was Spike's mate. It all made sense.

"What?" Riley cried petulantly, the shrill whine reminding both vampires suddenly of Xander.

"Nothing," Angel announced, turning towards the ladder.

"Where are you going? We're just... leaving Buffy here?"

Angel turned to look at the soldier. "Yes. We're just leaving Buffy here." Without another word, he disappeared up the ladder.

*********

When Spike and Buffy found themselves alone once more, Buffy surprised him by allowing a bark of laughter erupt.

"What are you laughin' at, eh?"

"You. Riley thought you were into dead people."

Disgust filled Spike's face. "Stupid git." His face softened as he studied Buffy, noting the weariness that road-mapped her face. "Why don't you try to go back to sleep, luv."

A indelicate snort erupted at that suggestion, filling Spike's heart with joy. It sounded so much like the Buffy he remembered; the one who found most of his suggestions fodder for derision, and he was happy to see it.

"Almost afraid to fall asleep, you know? It turned out so well the last time."

A soft, tender smile played over Spike's lips as he held the sheets up for her to slide under. "In you go, pet."

To his surprise, she followed his advice and allowed the thick coverlet on Spike's bed to swallow her up. Voluminous, green eyes stared up at him, and he felt a tug on his resolve.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

"Stay with me?" With that quietly spoken request, Buffy held up a corner of the sheets for Spike to take his position next to her. "I need you to keep the demons at bay."

"I am those demons, luv," he automatically shot back while shrugging his shirt off, then mentally slapped himself. No need for that brutal reminder to surface.

She smiled with trusting eyes as he crawled into the bed next to her. "Yeah, but you're MY demon."


tbc..

Please review!!

Thank you sooo much for all the reviews!!!

Chapter Seven
by Starshine
 
Buffy stood in the darkness under the same tree she had caught Spike standing under the night she had found out that Dawn was the Key. Leaning against the rough bark, she closed her eyes. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Who was she kidding? It was a lifetime ago.
 
147 days. According to Spike, that’s how long she had been gone.
 
It seemed much longer.  
 
He had cautioned her to stay out of sight while he spied out the situation inside the well-lit house. She watched as he slipped around the porch and made his way back to her.
 
“Well?” she asked, keeping her voice pitched low.
 
Spike lit a cigarette, only to have Buffy arch an eyebrow at him. Rolling his eyes, he threw it on the ground and crushed it under his heel.
 
She bit back a smile. He really was adorable when he pouted like that. She knew on some level that she should be seriously wigged by her tender feelings for the blond vampire, but in truth; nothing else in this whole fiasco felt more RIGHT.
 
Much of her time since her return had been spent sleeping, healing her mind and body after the chaos that Willow’s spell had wrought. He had rarely left her side, only venturing once to pick up some food and blood. When the inevitable nightmares came, he was right there, calming her with soothing words and a soft touch. Whatever doubts she’d had in the past, she now knew with absolute certainty that Spike would do anything for her.
 
“I wish I could tell you different, luv,” he was saying. “But it seems as if the gang’s all bloody here. The Whelp and his demon bird, Captain Cardboard, the lovers Wicca, the Bit, and of course the Broody Bastard. All hunkered down and waiting for you.”
 
“Got a nickname for everyone, don’t you?” Buffy snorted. He was relieved to hear that her pithy sense of humor was gradually making a come back.
 
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, luv,” he teased with a wink.
 
She was suddenly in his arms, her hands clutching desperately at the hard muscles of his back under all that black leather.
 
His arms went around her and Spike stroked her silky hair with a bittersweet smile. “No one says you have to go back there tonight, Buffy,” he insisted, giving her an out if she chose to take it. He pressed his lips to the marks on her neck in reassurance.
 
Buffy stepped back with a heartfelt sigh and a look of resignation on her face. “I need to face them. As much as I want to stay in the crypt, I know I have to go back. Dawnie needs me. I guess in a way I need her too.”
 
Spike nodded, stretching his hand out to her like he had so many times before. Unlike those times, Buffy took it without hesitation or suspicion, lacing her slim fingers with his. She gathered her strength as Spike led her up the front walk to her house. 
 
They both stopped at the door, listening to the raised voices yelling back and forth at each other. The harsh racket ebbed and flowed around her, piercing her sensitive ears with their anger and accusations. She pressed her hand against the door, trying to use its solid presence to steady her fragile nerves.
 
Spike swung her duffle bag over his shoulder and moved to stand behind her in a silent show of strength. Buffy smiled up at him gratefully and reached out to turn the doorknob.
 
It swung open before she could even grasp it. Angel stood in the opening, a stunned expression on his face.
 
Xander and Riley stood just behind him, fuming. From where they stood it looked like Buffy and Spike were locked in a lover’s embrace.
 
"You're here," Riley said lamely.
 
Buffy took a step forward, forcing Angel to step back or be trampled underfoot.
 
"Obviously. And fully equipped with the heartbeat and breathing thingy. Full-fledged human being here," Buffy commented looking straight at Riley.
 
Spike fought the urged to laugh at Buffy's obvious dig at her not so clued-in ex. He could tell by the glint in her eyes that she had done that for him. She knew how disgusted Spike had been with the thought anyone would even think he would do something so low. He may be a demon but there were just some things...
 
“Nice of you to show up,” Anya said breaking Spike from his internal rant. He watched as she rolled her eyes. “I’m hungry and there is hardly anything to eat here.”
 
“Unless you’re Spike,” Xander muttered sotto voce.
 
Angel looked at Xander carefully. “I resemble that remark.”
 
Buffy picked up a picture of her mother from a side table and ran her fingers delicately over the surface. The expression of sadness on her face was heart wrenching to see. 
 
“Uh…Buffy? Aren’t you going to invite Spike in?” Angel asked.
 
Spike smirked and made a great show of strolling over the threshold. “Thanks for your concern, mate. Don’t need an invite.”
 
Angel crossed his arms and slouched against the door frame, the heavy pout on his face doing nothing for his looks.
 
Buffy moved further into the living room, gauging everyone’s reaction. At one time they were her friends, her world. Because her Calling had to always come first, she held most people at a distance; afraid to be too close to anyone. But these were the few people that she allowed inside her heart. She gave more of herself to them than anything else in the world.
 
She felt like there was this great chasm standing between them. She knew she was angry, and she felt betrayed, but there was something else that bothered her about them. They all seemed a bit too... alive. Death had never touched their bodies; not the way it had Buffy’s. They did not know what it felt like to be truly free. Only Spike knew what it felt like to be released from the things that seemed to govern everyone else; things they all seemed to cling to.
 
“Buffy, I’m so glad you’re here,” Dawn said. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other, her blue eyes wide and anxious in her pale face.
 
A long, tense moment passed as she looked at her sister, but eventually Buffy relented and reached out for her. Without a moment’s hesitation, Dawn ran into her sister’s arms.
 
Encouraged by this action, Xander sighed in relief. Maybe she was coming around?
 
That fervent wish was shot down the second Willow stepped forward. “Buffy, I’m…”
 
Buffy jerked back, dragging a surprised Dawn with her. Her sudden movement broke the silent visual showdown Spike was having with his grand-sire. In an instant he was beside Buffy, his arm wrapped around her as she held her weeping sister.
 
“I swear, Buffy, I would never have done it if I knew,” Dawn pleaded for her to understand.
 
“I know, Dawnie.” Buffy said, swallowing down her own pain and bitterness. Dawn was just a child, after all. She had lost her mother and then her sister. Her grief could be explained, excused. She stroked the teenager’s cheek smiling at her in forgiveness.
 
“Buffy, we’re all here because we care. Angel told us what Spike did to you. We just want to help,” Xander explained.  
 
She turned to face everyone in the room. Angel left his place by the door to stand with the rest of the group as they waited for her response. All she had to do was say the word and Spike would be a distant, dusty memory.
 
She spoke to them all, but her eyes were on Angel. “Then you know it’s not something that Spike did by himself. It’s something WE did…together.”
 
Angel lowered his head. “You accepted it?” He asked his eyes on the floor.
 
Buffy nodded. “And reciprocated. Whole-heartedly.”
 
Angel looked around the room. “She’s been claimed, and she has claimed him in return. The bond is irreversible. There’s nothing anyone of us can do.”
 
“Like hell there isn’t!” Riley roared, running toward Spike.
 
Buffy pushed Dawn off to Spike. Grabbing Riley by his arm, she sent him flying into the back wall. He laid there, a look of utter stupefaction on his face until Xander hurried over to help him up.
 
“Jesus! Am I going to have to do this every night with one of you?” Buffy yelled.
 
"Buffy, you're not seeing things clearly." Riley said
 
"This coming from the man who yanked a sleeping girl out of a comfy bed because he thought she was a corpse?" Buffy challenged.
 
Anya crunched her nose in disgust at Riley. "You thought Spike..."
 
"It looked like he..." Riley sputtered.
 
"I don't think I should be hearing this," Dawn groaned, looking a little green from the mental image.
 
“Buffy, you need to understand. It’s just a little weird. It’s Spike. I remember what you told him. The only chance that he had with you was when you were unconscious,” Willow blurted out.
 
Buffy’s heart constricted as Spike visibly flinched. “That was a long time ago, Willow. I was a different person back then. So was Spike.”
 
Tara suddenly moved to stand at Buffy’s side in an obvious show of support. The flash of jealousy in Willow’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed.
 
“I think Buffy has made it pretty clear what Spike means to her. Fighting about it isn’t going to help anything. And if you guys keep going after him the way you do; it’s just going to make things worse. The best thing to do is to back off and give her the space she needs,” Tara advised.
 
Dawn turned to Buffy. You’re staying here, though. Right? I can make you some tea or something. Oh, and I dusted your room and changed the sheets,” she babbled.
 
Buffy smiled, allowing her sister to hug her. “Thanks, Dawnie. I would love some tea. I think I’ll go up, maybe take a nap.”
 
Spike took a step back. This was the moment he had been dreading. Buffy would return back in the fold, while he would be forced to go back to his crypt.
 
He had never claimed anyone before; not even Drusilla, so his knowledge of them was sketchy at best. But just the idea of being apart from her was enough to rouse the familiar ache that had been his constant companion for the 147 days she had been lost to him.
 
Then, something amazing happened. Buffy reached out her hand to him. “Spike and I just need to get settled in,” she said, the look in her eyes daring any of them to comment.
 
Grasping his hand, Buffy led him up the stairs. Spike could do nothing but follow her, his mind swimming with the intensity of his emotions.
 
Buffy had chosen him. HIM. Not Peaches. Not White-bread Finn. Him. Spike.
 
He was vaguely aware of her voice as she pulled him along behind her up the stairs.
 
“My room is kind of small. The basement might be better for us, because not so much with the sunlight. We can deal with all that later. Will a queen-sized bed be big enough, or should we get a king?” she chattered.
 
Spike felt himself bobbing along helplessly in the wake of her obvious enthusiasm.
 
It was almost surreal. There was no grand announcement. No fancy speech. Not even a need on her part to ask him if this what he wanted. It was simple. Buffy had decreed the matter settled.
 
Spike was staying
 tbc..

Please oh please review!!!

Chapter 8
by Bloodshedbaby
Buffy slept like the dead. Or the newly risen from the dead, at any rate. And Spike watched over her, a hint of anxiety coloring his face that he didn't even try to hide.
 
   
They had barely set foot in Buffy's bedroom, when he realized that she was practically falling asleep on her feet. Spike bypassed the usual bedtime ritual and tucked her into bed. She had immediately fallen into such a deep slumber that Spike had slipped his fangs into her for a brief second to reassure himself that it was merely a normal REM cycle that she had fallen prey to and not something of a more mystical nature.  His concern knew no bounds as he gently probed her mind.
 

     The fleeting nonsensical thoughts being tossed around her brain assured him that all was well, and so he did the only thing he could do. He pulled her into his arms and stood guard; doing his best to keep her demons at bay- as she had requested earlier.

 
    It had been over twelve hours now, and Spike was afraid to give up his diligent watch, certain that if he let his guard down for even a moment, something would happen. So he stayed awake.

 
    They made their way on timid feet up the stairs to check on them, knocking quietly on the closed door that separated their anxious faces from Buffy. Spike had no compunctions in sending the whelp and Red away with a heated snarl, but he allowed Tara and Dawn to stay for a bit, knowing that their need for assurance stemmed from genuine concern and not some glorified urge to pat themselves on the back for their so-called accomplishment.

 
    Tara had brought him blood, a thoughtful act that spoke volumes. Spike’s demon was clamoring and howling for sleep and respite, and the blood went a long way in soothing his fractured mind.

 
    When Angel dared to poise on the outskirts of Buffy's inner sanctum, the demon reacted instinctively to the threat. Low, savage growls sounded from his chest as he gathered Buffy closer to him.  She remained pliant in his arms, snuggling deeper against his bare chest as a soft, contented sigh passed between slightly parted lips.

 
    Angel stopped and took a moment to study the vampire before him before slowly making his way into the bedroom. A bedroom well known to both Angel and Angelus.

 
    When Spike's game face refused to retreat and the warning growls became more pronounced, Angel sighed heavily. 

 
     "I didn't come up here to challenge your claim, William."

 
    The growling slowly eased, but suspicion and hostility continued to reverberate strongly.  "Bloody right you're not, Angelus. She's mine."

 
    Angel pulled up a chair and lowered himself into it, keeping a telling distance from the territorial vampire holding what used to be his beloved. "I am aware of that." His intense brown eyes skimmed Buffy's slight form hidden under the thick comforter.  "How is she doing? You two have been up here a while."

 
    Spike shrugged with forced nonchalance. "She's just sleeping. Think the coming back to life part just plumb wore her out." His cautious guard relaxed as he finally accepted that Angel wasn't a threat, and had merely sought them out for reassurance of their wellbeing. There was concern for them both, Spike realized with surprise and not a small measure of happiness; he had greatly missed this familial tie.

 
     "She shouldn't be here," Spike whispered quietly, finally giving voice to the thoughts that continued to torture him. "They shouldn't have done it."

 
    Angel was silent for a moment trying to come to terms with his own emotions. For his own selfish reasons, he wanted Buffy alive. It was easier, it hurt less. But he realized that Spike was the only one among them to rise above his own selfish needs and think of Buffy’s well-being.

 
    And he was right, Angel thought wryly. Buffy didn't deserve what had been done to her. An intense wave of gratitude washed over him, foreign in nature.  

 
    Buffy was lucky she had Spike.

 
    Not the other way around; as was the initial focal thought that had gripped Angel the moment he discovered that Spike had claimed her before she died. Part of him still wanted to plunge a stake through his wayward childe's heart for daring to touch what Angelus considered his, but his more soul-ful component found acceptance and more than a small measure of gratitude that Spike was there for Buffy.

 
    Something he had not been.

 
    Unable to share the profoundness of his thoughts with Spike, Angel swiftly changed the subject. "Giles is on his way."

 
    Spike nodded once. "Yeah, heard the whelp and Tara arguing about that a while ago."

 
    Angel regarded Spike with a discerning eye, noting the obvious lines of weariness that cut deeply into the flesh around his eyes and mouth as he valiantly fought the seductive lure of sleep.

 
    "Sleep, Will."

 
    The command was spoken with none of the dominant authority that Spike was accustomed to hearing from his grand-sire, being uttered instead with gentle concern. He stiffened in protest all the same. Old habits died hard, even when his elder was wearing the guise of an acquired conscience.

 
    Despite the feeling of warmth generated by Angle’s show of consideration, Spike feigned an air of bravado as he shrugged off the demanding shroud of fatigue. “Nah, I’m good.”
 

    Knowing instinctively why there was reluctance in succumbing to much needed rest, Angel's voice lowered  just a fraction, his face softening as a slight Irish burr entered his voice. "I'll watch over the two of you, lad."

 
    Piercing blue eyes searched broody brown. Satisfied with the sincerity he found there, Spike nodded his gratitude.

 
     Trying not to jar Buffy, he pulled back the thick comforter and settled himself under it, seeking the drowsy warmth it possessed.

 
    With Buffy's body pressed against his and the surprising bodyguard in the chair across the room, Spike had no difficulty in sliding into a deep, much-needed sleep. He had been awake for over 48 hours, and his demon craved respite, knowing it was needed to restore him to full capability.

 
    Buffy deserved nothing less.
 

    Angel watched the two blonds sleeping, a sharp ache tugging at his heartstrings.  Angelus was still screaming for blood, but even he understood exactly what was taking place here.
 

    Love.

 
    Trust.
 

    The fact that it was in regard to Spike failed to disturb him any longer.  Once more, he found himself thankful that his rebellious grand-childe had been there.

 
    He would protect these two with his very life, if necessary. It was the least he could do; he owed them both so much. More than he had even realized.

   
    ********
    Spike jerked awake to the sound of the front door slamming open, his precious hold on Buffy tightening in instinctive response. His eyes immediately made their way across the room where he found Angel standing watch, doing exactly as he had promised.  Sleep still tried to pull him under, but his other senses went on high alert against possible threat.

 
  Heated, muffled voices made their way up the stairs and through the closed door.

 
    "Well, unless I miss my guess, I'd say the good watcher has just arrived," Spike commented dryly, eyeing the closed door.  He wasn't eager for the inevitable confrontation and the chaos that would soon ensue.
 

   Loud shouting replaced the muffled voices as accusations were flung that sent a flow of tautness through Spike's body, his rage building with each callous word.

 
    Seeing the terse set of Spike's jaw and feeling the fury coursing through him, Angel came to a swift decision.

 
    "I'll head them off."

 
    Making his way with supernatural stealth to the door, Angel slipped through it, closing it firmly behind him; effectively shutting Spike and Buffy off from the rest of the household.
 
*****
Angel couldn't remember a time when he had seen Giles look as out of sorts as he did standing at the bottom of the stairs. An unwanted mental image of a disheveled and bleeding Watcher at the sadistic and torturous hands of a merciless Angelus flashed through his brain before being quickly blocked and tamped down.

'Not my fault,' Angel said to himself yet again, hoping that one day he may actually believe it.

Xander's was the loudest in the din of escalating voices, all focused on being heard. Angel had hoped the boy would have cooled off a bit, but unfortunately it appeared as if the continuing-and unwanted- presence of the soldier cemented Xander's misguided assessment of the situation; both men feeding off the other until the rage practically poured off them both. Erroneous at best, Xander continued to twist things around so his own duplicity was excused. The honor of culpability had been reserved for the vampire up the stairs; the one who insisted on keeping Buffy separated from her real friends.

A bespectacled pair of tortured eyes met Angel's, seeking assurance and truth from the only silent one.

"So, it's really true?" Giles asked.

One curt nod was all that was needed to fully deflate the Watcher as his body sagged against the wall, a framed picture of Buffy symbolically knocked off in the process.

The sharp, piercing sound of broken glass served to break through the heated clamor, all eyes jumping to the bowed Watcher and the shattered frame before finally traveling to take in the grim set of Angel's face.

"Where is she?" Giles asked, his haggard voice a mirror of his tortured emotions.

"Upstairs."

Shoving himself away from the wall that had offered him much-needed support, Giles solemnly climbed the stairs, his fear and anxiety feeding Angelus with relish. Angel couldn't help but inhale deeply as he passed, then cursed the demon inside that made him savor every whiff.

The others attempted to follow and Angel turned to them with a harsh warning poised on his lips; however he was beaten to the punch.

"Back off," Dawn warned, her eyes growing cold with promised intent.

"But..." Anya attempted to say before being effectively shut down.

"No one is going upstairs right now, got it?"

Angel gave Dawn an appreciative look before turning to fall in step beside Buffy's Watcher.

When they reached the door, Giles gave pause, his hand hovering over the gilded smoothness of the door handle as he fought to make sense of the chaotic maelstrom of thoughts swirling around his head.

His information thus far had been conflicting, the only thing fully penetrating was that his slayer was ALIVE. Once he had heard that, his typically astute brain had refused to process much else as he caught the first plane back to the United States. He had unfortunately suffered delay after delay which offered him entirely too much time to think, to ponder... and to drink.

On each occasion that he had called the Summers residence, somebody different had answered the phone with a decidedly altered version of events. The only thing that had managed to penetrate his befuddled mind was the name SPIKE-- repeated over and over again. Finding himself unable to make sense of the jumbled explanations, Giles decided to grasp a hold of the only continuity.

Even Tara's quiet words had included the name Spike, his gut clenching in remembrance of the rest of her words.

"There was a spell performed...."

His mind had shut off after that as rage had gripped him in its eager claws. Spike was responsible for this...abomination.

Giles now found himself glad that Angel was available to help deal with the matter of his kin... if he hadn't been dealt with already, which was his reverent hope.

Finding himself suddenly fearful of what he might find behind the closed door, Giles voiced his one encompassing worry.

"Is she still... Buffy?"

Knowing exactly what it was the Watcher was asking, Angel kept his reply short. "Yes, she's still Buffy."

With that, Angel took the initiative and opened the door into the room, swinging it open quietly.

The relief that accompanied Angel's quiet reassurance was staggering, and it took Giles a moment to regroup his thoughts as he stepped into the room.

But then he saw it.

His Slayer. Alive.

In the arms of the vampire responsible for her resurrection.

"Why is he still here, Angel?" Giles bit out in a deceptively mild tone, all exhaustion and alcohol fleeing his system in one foul swoop.

Angel's face became a playground of confusion. "Didn't they tell you?"

Giles face assumed the hardness of his pre-Watcher days as Ripper decided to surface.

"I'm thinking the ole Watcher got but half the story," Spike said quietly from the bed, watching the transformation take place on Rupert's face. He had seen hints of Ripper, but nothing to this extreme. "And take care with your voice, will ya? She's sleeping."

"Kinda hard to sleep when you guys keep making so much noise," Buffy announced without opening her eyes or moving a muscle, continuing the boneless comfort of being draped across Spike's torso.

"Sorry, pet." Spike's voice was apologetic as he gently stroked the back of her head.

The befuddled Watcher returned as he questioned heatedly, "Just what in the bloody hell is going on here? Angel? Why are you allowing Spike to hold Buffy in such an...intimate manner?"

Buffy's eyes slowly opened and she turned her head sleepily in Giles direction, sighing in slight irritation. "Hi Giles. Not so much with the deadness anymore."

Her head dropped back with a resounding thump against Spike's chest, and it was at that moment that Giles saw them.

Bite marks.

Suddenly, things that had been thrown out to him on the phone during his frantic flight half way across the world made perfect sense. Oh yes, he had heard the words "Spike" and "claimed" in the same sentence, but he had not for one moment connected them in the true vampiric sense. He felt ridiculous all of a sudden for not making the connection before, but blamed the stress and alcohol for numbing his brain to the point where it refused to cooperate.

Looking at Angel, Giles asked, "He claimed her, did he?"

Angel nodded once more, his eyes moving to the bed where an irritated Spike reclined.

Cold blue eyes followed suit, and Giles practically bristled with self righteousness. "Well Spike, why does it not surprise me that you wasted no time in taking advantage of this situation?"

tbc

Thank you sooooooo much for all the awesome reviews! Please don't be shy, keep them coming!! Especially since Starshine needs her muse fed, and lots of reviews will fill her up quite nicely! :P

thank you so much for all the reviews so far!!! They have really kept us going! We have played with canon a bit here, Riley isn't married and Connor doesn't exist, just to make things less complicated!

Chapter 9
by Starshine

Rupert Giles had seen a lot of things in his tenure as the Watcher to the extraordinary Slayer in front of him. A whole myriad of memories spun through his mind. Meeting his Slayer, turning his back on his duties because she had come to mean so much to him. All the demons and apocalypses they had thwarted. The incredible sacrifices she had made throughout the years, the final one she had made on that tower that night.

But this….

This he could not fathom. Buffy lying in Spike’s arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. Briefly he thought about the spell Willow had placed them under two years previously. He had been spared the sight of the two of them acting like mooney-eyed betrothed idiots. That was a spell. This was different. His eyes were trained on Spike.

“Despite everything that you have done, I held onto a small belief that you were not completely evil. You did things to prove otherwise. You saved me from Angelus.”

At this Angel winced.

“You helped us on more than one occasion. Provided the means for Buffy to flee Sunnydale when Glory came after Dawn and after she…You helped us make the world believe she was alive.”

Rupert’s nostrils flared as he gave Spike his most contemptuous glare.

“I guess I was wrong. You are evil, Spike. How could you proclaim to love someone so much, and then take advantage of them in such a callous fashion? It just proves what everyone has said before. Creatures such as you are not capable of love.”

Spike glared at Buffy’s Watcher. He told himself over and over again he would try to respect the man. Buffy loved him like a father, so for her sake, Spike would try to play nice. But Rupert had pulled out his most lethal weapon. His words.

He had watched Rupert on more than one occasion wield his words against Buffy like sharp knives--getting into her head-- using his thoughts and arguments to bend her to his will and at times, hurt her.

He would not allow Rupert to do that now. A low growl emanated from within his chest. His eyes flickered yellow as his demon came forth.

Buffy looked over at her mate, feeling the anger rolling off his body. She touched his arm lightly; her eyes impossibly wide as she stared at him pleadingly.

Both Angel and Rupert were frozen in disbelief as they watched the affect the tiny slayer had on the vampire she was snuggled against.

Spike's growls dissipated, his demon visage slowly shifting back into his human form as his fangs retracted. The amber in his eyes faded to a brilliant blue.

Buffy had managed to do what no other person, other than the creature in question, could do. Buffy, with just a touch and one look, she had tamed the demon in Spike. The demon that had roamed the earth causing death and destruction for over one hundred years; the demon that had bested two slayers, now retreated quietly within Spike at the silent request of another.

Buffy turned back to her Watcher.

“This is absolutely the LAST time I want to go through this, so do me a favor. Write it down or something. I am not dead anymore. Spike didn’t resurrect me and do the nasty with my rotting corpse. He hasn’t turned me and he hasn’t taken advantage of me.”

“Buffy, I do not know what exactly has transpired, but the one thing I can clearly see are those marks on your neck.”

Buffy touched the marks, brushing her fingers against them a bit too reverently for Giles’s taste.

“Yes, Spike claimed me. And it was because of the claim that I didn't die again, sealed in a coffin after my friends decided it would be fun to bring Buffy back from…” Her voice trailed off with a choked sob and she reached blindly for Spike.

Spike jolted upright, wrapping his arms around his girl. He pressed his lips to his mark on her neck and murmured soft words in her ear.

Rupert’s eyes widened as he observed the interaction between the couple. “Are you trying to tell me this happened before you jumped?” he asked.

“The night I jumped, to be precise. “ Buffy whispered.

Rupert began to chuckle suddenly; his laughter taking on a hysterical quality that had both vampires wincing from its assault on their sensitive ears.

“Y-you expect me to believe that you allowed him to do this to you before your death? Really, Buffy...”

“GILES, STOP IT!” she screamed, leaping from the bed. She advanced on the older man, not bothering to hide her agitation.

“Both of you need to stop pretending that you know me so well. You think that being my friend gives you the right to tell me what to do and who I can be friend’s with.” Her eyes rested on Spike and she gave him a tiny smile. “Who I can love.”

She turned to stare at Angel. “You thought you knew what I needed; a normal life with a normal boyfriend. You left me, even though I begged you to stay. If you had truly loved me, you would have stayed,” Buffy said.

She then turned to Rupert.

“And you. You think you know me? Got me pegged, right? Buffy would never allow Spike to touch her. She would never allow the soulless creature anywhere near her. But this soulless creature was good enough to leave in charge of my sister while you be-bopped back across the pond, wasn’t he? You don’t know me. Until recently, I didn't even know myself.”

Buffy looked down at Spike. He tilted his head to the side, waiting for her to continue.

“Every time things got rough, every time I needed help with my family or Dawn, I ran to Spike. I didn’t even realize I was doing it half the time-- but I did. The night Dawn disappeared, when the Watcher’s council came to test me, when Glory came after me all those times-- I ran to Spike. Because I knew. I knew he would protect me. Not for money or for anything that I could do for him, but because he loves me. I was too blinded by prejudice and fear of what everyone else would think before, but no more. I belong to him.”

Buffy sat down on the side of the bed and allowed Spike to pull her against him.

“I wanted him to claim me. I practically begged for it. I reciprocated. It’s the only reason why I have made it to this point. So if anymore of you come in here and tell me that I am not being myself, or that I am being manipulated by him, or that it’s some stupid spell, I swear to God I will let Spike bite you!”

Both of the interlopers had the grace to look ashamed in the face of her emotional outburst. Giles looked like he was about to say more but Buffy was clearly finished with them.

She leaned heavily into Spike, pushing him back against the pillows as she curled up next to him. “We’ll talk later, guys. Right now I think I need some more rest. So does Spike.”

Feeling effectively dismissed, they left, closing the door behind them.

Buffy kissed Spike’s lips gently. Spike responded, mirroring her soft touch, but soon, however, the kisses became more passionate.
Spike pulled back, his pupils nearly black with lust and desire.

“The last thing I want to do is sleep, luv.” He groaned as Buffy nipped at his neck.

She pulled him in for another searing kiss and smiled. “I’m not the least bit sleepy.”

She tried to roll Spike over but he pushed himself away from her and stood up.

“I thought...”

Spike smirked. “We will. You just seem a bit tense.”

Buffy shrugged her shoulders.

“Wait a tick,” Spike said exiting the room.

Spike listened at the door to make sure no one was in the hallway. He opened the door and walked out, leaving Buffy wondering what the blonde vampire was up to.
 
After a few minutes he came back into the room. Without a word he reached out for her hand. Buffy took it and let him lead her out the hall and into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind them.
 
"Sounds like everyone's head off for the night." Spike said smiling softly

Buffy smiled, looking down at the prepared bubble bath. The scent of vanilla hung heavily in the air. Running his hands up her arms, he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him as he slowly undressed her. She found herself catching her breath with every article of clothing that was removed.

When she was naked, he gave her a gentle nudge towards the tub. Buffy lifted her eyebrow and let a playful smile creep across her face. She walked over to the bathtub and sank into the fragrant bubbles.

“I need a hand with my back,” she purred, staring up at him with lustful eyes.

Spike quickly removed his clothing and Buffy scooted forward, allowing him to get in behind her. Once he was in, she settled against his chest. His arms encircled her and he kissed her shoulder, nibbling gently at her satiny skin.

“Not that I mind, but what made you decide on a bath?”

Spike closed his eyes, deliberately breathing in her scent. He hummed in pleasure as the warmth of the water was absorbed into his chilled flesh.
“I figured you have had enough of the cold, pet. Wanted to give you something warm,” he whispered.

“Spike…”

“Shh… Just let me take care of you. I want you to feel something besides the cold. Will you let me do that for you?”

Buffy let out a breath, nodding slowly.

Spike hugged her tightly, nuzzling the back of her neck.

For a moment they were still; eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of being no one and nothing-- just each others.

“I believe you required some assistance with your back?” he queried, urging her to lean forward a bit.

She didn’t even attempt to suppress the moan that slipped past her lips as Spike began to massage her back. Bubbles slid down her shoulders and onto her breasts. Buffy closed her eyes and sagged forward, allowing Spike to manipulate her muscles. He moved his hands to her neck and shoulders and continued his loving treatment. Sliding his hands back down her back, he slipped around her ribcage and upwards. With tantalizing slowness, he skimmed his fingers around the swells of her breasts, cupping and squeezing them gently.

Buffy let out a small whimper as his touch ignited a fire within her. Her head tilted to the side, allowing Spike to kiss her neck and suck lightly at his mark. Shuddering, she arched into the steely erection that prodded insistently against her bottom. She rolled her head back as Spike found her taut nipples and began to tweak at them, making small circles with his fingers.

“You like it when I touch you?” he asked, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Buffy nodded, completely unable to for a coherent sentence. The delicious sensation of his hands was overtaking everything else.

Spike licked a fiery trail down her jugular. “I love touching you, so this works out nicely then.” He said with a chuckle. He pulled her closer, causing the water to swish and splash out of the tub.

Buffy crushed herself against him, trying to reach around between their bodies to grasp his erection. He caught her hands, tsking at her playfully.

“Ah, ah. This isn’t about me. This is for you,” he said kissing her cheek.

Buffy nodded again, her eyes still closed. She felt Spike’s hand moving lower and lower, drawing ever widening circles on the quivering skin of her belly. After what seemed like an eternity, his fingers sank into her folds and his thumb flicked across her clit.

Buffy let out a small hiss and jerked her hips forward, doing everything in her power not to let go right there and then. His free hand slid up her chest and curved around her neck, pulling her back to him.

Spike turned her face to his and stared down at her. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her small white teeth were clamped down on her bottom lip as she moaned and jerked in his arms.

“You see how your body knows mine? It’s always known; from the moment I first touched you. Hasn’t it, luv?” he asked, wringing a breathless cry from her as he sank one long finger into her quim.

She felt as if she was going to crawl right out of her skin when he added a second finger, stretching her deliciously. Her hips moved in time with Spike’s fingers as he pumped them slowly in and out of her tight channel. She felt him lovingly stroking her inner walls, twisting them around as if he were seeking something. When he found what he sought; she felt him smile against her neck before he pressed his fingers upwards, rubbing against the spongy patch of nerve endings inside her.

“Oh!” she cried out as Spike continued to press on that spot while still rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb. He drove her body into a frenzy. Her eyes widened and she gasped while her body convulsed. She reached back and wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck, arching and bucking her hips against his hand.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear what I do to you,” Spike urged.

Buffy head thrashed from side to side. Her shattered cry of release was muffled as his mouth devoured hers. He continued to worship her mouth as he gentled her down from her peak.

Spike gave her a few moments to calm her racing heart before he rose from the tub, leaving his girl resting limply against the edge. He quickly he dried himself off than reached for a huge towel. Lifting Buffy from the tub, he wrapped her in its folds and carried her back to her bedroom.
 
He laid her on the bed before turning back to lock the door. When he came back to her, Buffy was looking up at him, her eyes filled with awe and adoration.
The smell of her drove Spike crazy. Her natural scent mixed with the scented bubbles filled his nostrils. He had to taste her.

Spike positioned himself between her legs. He parted her plump, wet folds with his tongue and licked her slowly from bottom to top. He latched onto her clit, worrying it gently as he coaxed it into releasing her sweetness. It didn’t take long at all. Within a few gasps, Spike was rewarded with his desire. Buffy cried and bucked under his mouth, her hands reaching for him pleadingly.

He kissed his way up her body and entered her slowly. Buffy held him close to her, not wanting any part of her body away from his.

“I need you so much,” she whispered looking into his eyes.

He wanted to draw this out. To feel every part of her. Etch every moment of this into his memory so that when it was over, he would remember every whisper, every moan that fell from her sweet lips.
 
“I love you, Buffy. You know that. You don‘t have to say it back.”

They found their release. This time it was sweet and slow. Spike covered her wet face in kisses. Buffy tilted her head, silently pleading for him to take what he wanted, what they both needed. He kissed her neck and then latched onto his mark. Buffy gasped as the moist suction of his mouth sent her into another climax.

“God, I will love you forever,“ Spike whispered, holding her tight as she wilted against him. They lay quietly, occasionally touching and trading kisses until sleep finally claimed them both.

tbc..

don't forget to leave a review :P

 Time was a funny thing, Spike decided emphatically as he looked up into the night sky.
 
The days that Buffy had been dead and buried had passed by as an eternity, each minute stretching painfully on to the next; leaving Spike with agonizing amounts of time to think. To grieve. It had been an unending torment with no apparent relief in sight.
 
But now that Buffy was with him again, all that tortured time seemed like a distant memory. Merely a brief repast in the long expanse of his years with just a hint of grief that had flavored it for a short time.
 
Where before he had wished time to pass by at a furious pace, hoping with every passing second that his grief would be become less, now he savored every second he had with her, watching as it sped by with regret. He would never have enough time with her. Never.
 
She had been back for almost two months, and Spike found himself blessing each moment she enthusiastically spent in his company. The God that Spike had willingly forsaken when he had allowed Drusilla to bring him over to the dark side now heard words of gratitude on a daily basis. For letting her come back. For letting her love him.
 
It was more than he deserved he knew, and his heart still clenched up with something akin to worship whenever his eyes fell upon her.
 
She was perfection.
 
And she was his.
 
Things were decidedly different now though, this time around the grave. There was a definite shift in the hierarchy that had made up the backbone of Buffy's support system for all those years she was the Slayer. A thought which brought a smile of satisfaction to his lips. Buffy relied on him to watch her back now, knowing he would be there without falter.
 
Spike paused his musings long enough to light up a cigarette, his legs stretched out on the wooden chaise lounge that decorated the utilitarian back yard of Buffy's house.
 
No, not Buffy's house.
 
It was their house now.
 
Flipping the lighter top down with an exaggerated snap, Spike stuffed it back into the pocket of his duster; his ears tuned into the activity inside the house that would alert him to Buffy's arrival from work. The night was slightly cool, a fact that while it registered with the vampire, refused to bother him at all.
 
Rupert had returned to Sunnydale, leaving his new life in England to be there if Buffy should need him. He, at least, recognized the changes in Buffy's life for what they were, rather than how they affected him directly-- unlike the others. Because of that one fact, Spike's respect for Rupert grew.
 
Spike still fought the urge to rip Willow and Xander's heads off every time he was around them, and they were smart to keep their distance these days, finally realizing that no matter what argument they used or how often they said it, it was a waste of breath. Knowing that Buffy put someone, some THING as they continually reminded her, before them was the nail on the proverbial coffin as far as they were concerned, and their resentment continued to grow.
 
Angel had taken his broody ass and returned to Los Angeles and the Tin Soldier had snuck out of town with all of his trained stealthiness, leaving a bereft Xander who has lost a solid supporter on his side of the "Spike is Evil" campaign. Yet one more thing the whelp added to the mental tally of grievances against the chipped vampire.
 
Spike took a long drag of his smoke as he felt his inner contentment bubble to the surface in spite of the continuing antagonism from Buffy's mates.
 
Aside from those occasional confrontations, Spike's un-life was the best he'd ever had it. He shared a bed with his Slayer and with the niblet in the house, it was the closest thing to a real family he'd had in a long time-- if ever.
 
He was happy. Content.
 
Spike could feel Buffy growing near and his acute hearing picked up the sounds of the front door opening, and an unconscious smile slid across his face. Buffy was home. He waited to see how long it would take before she sought him out, and his smile turned into a full fledged grin when he heard the back door opening before he had even counted to thirty.
 
"Spike?" she called, stepping out on the top step. "Are you out here?"
 
"No, you've got another smoking vamp sitting in your back yard."
 
"Smart ass."
 
"You love it." He looked up at her approach and flicked his cigarette away, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her barely clad body. "How was work?"
 
Buffy allowed a minimal shrug. "It was ok, I guess." She reached his side and swung her leg over the width of the chair before settling herself down, straddling Spike's waist. Her fingers splayed possessively over the expanse of his chest as she leaned forward to capture his mouth in greeting.
 
Spike growled low in his throat and wrapped his greedy fingers around the slim swell of her hips, rocking her back until she was in direct contact with his now very alert cock. Plunging his tongue roughly into her mouth and thrusting up against her to give her a proper welcome home, Buffy surprised him by pulling back with her face scrunched up in distaste.
 
"What?"
 
"Ick! You taste like smoke."
 
Spike cocked his head to the side, staring at her intently. "Never bothered you before. In fact, if memory serves correctly, you said my smoking got you hot."
 
Buffy nodded empathically. "And it does! Sorry, didn't mean to ruin a moment here, especially one that I initiated. It's just... well, my tummy just been weird and my sense of smell seems to have taken on Slayer strength or something." She sat upright, still straddling Spike's lean waist as she traced patterns in his t-shirt with the tip of her index finger.
 
"And god, you should smell some of the people at the gym, I mean... you'd think they would get a clue with the whole shower thing in the locker room and everything."
 
Spike didn't even try bother hiding his look of concern, anything bothering her caused him distress. "How long has this been going on?"
 
Buffy shrugged again. "Not long. Was just trying to ignore it, hoping it would go away. Figured it was just some lame, claimy-type stuff."
 
Spike sat up with rush, keeping her legs locked against him, his forearms wrapped around her torso. "Sorry pet. The claim doesn't add any of my powers to yours."
 
"Well that just sucks." Buffy's lower lip jutted out in a pout, causing Spike to groan with restrained temptation. That lip got him every time.
 
Throwing his legs to the ground, he stood up quickly, grinning when Buffy squeaked with surprise but wrapped her capable legs around his waist. "Where are we going?"
 
"Gonna get you something to eat, is what. I can hear your tummy making all kinds of funny noises."
 
Spike threw open the back door and strode into the kitchen, Buffy grumbling how she wasn't hungry the entire way.
 
Dawn didn't even look up from doing homework at the kitchen, the sight of seeing Buffy and Spike together in such a fashion had lost all sense of newness. "I made macaroni and cheese with that polish sausage stuff in it, it's in the fridge," Dawn announced to her sister, her attention still focused on the book in front of her.
 
"Ewww."
 
That brought Dawn's head shooting up as she regarded her sister as she was being plopped down on one of the kitchen counters by Spike.
 
"What are you talking about? You love that stuff," Dawn informed her with a sharp look.
 
"Yeah, I know, but it just sounds major gross right now." Buffy's face was scrunched up in the same manner Spike had witnessed earlier. "I'm not hungry anyway."
 
Dawn arched her eyebrow in her sister's direction, recalling Buffy's usual scarf-fest after her workday as a personal trainer. "Since when aren't you hungry after work?"
 
Buffy brought herself upright in pouting indignation. "Since....now. Food and me right now? Unmixy."
 
Spike rolled his eyes at her words, going to the refrigerator to fix her something to eat. "I know you're hungry pet. I can hear your tummy making all kinds of gurglies and..." his voice trailed off as he fixed an incredulous stare at her stomach.
 
"What?" Buffy cried with paranoia, trying to pull down her cropped work-out top to cover her stomach from his very prying eyes. "Am I getting fat or something?"
 
His eyes lifted to meet hers and a flicker of alarm shoot through her at the maelstrom of emotions she found reflected in their blue depths. "What?" she asked again, uncertainty making her voice slightly shrill.
 tbc...

Chapter 11
Written by Starshine and fiddled with by Bloodshedbaby and Spikeslovebite
Spike slowly closed the door of the fridge, his face a perfect mask of concentration. His brows knitted together as he continued to hone in on Buffy's abdomen. 

His intent focus was beginning to give her a major case of the wiggins.  “What?” Buffy repeated, a hint of something trying to creep its way into her consciousness, only to be vehemently denied access to the accountable portion of her brain.

Giving himself a mental shake, Spike lifted his head to meet her paranoid gaze.  "It's nothing." Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but Spike anticipated her question. "And no, I don't think you're getting fat. You're bloody gorgeous."

Buffy gulped hard and smiled, not for a moment doubting his sincerity.
 

Dawn looked at her two guardians suspiciously. She had lived with them long enough to know when they were sharing their thoughts. For the most part, they reveled in it. Carried on entire conversations mentally, selfishly, almost as if they were taunting everyone in the room by not sharing what was going on in their heads.
 

Yet somehow, for some reason, there was a thought that they were both denying; rejecting some possibility not only from her, but each other.
 
 

Never one to mind her own business, Dawn focused her attention on Spike, counting on his natural bluntness to work in her favor.
 

“What just happened there?”
 

“Nothing,” Spike insisted, his hands digging into the pockets of his duster, a sure sign that something had him out of sorts.
 

Dawn pinned him with her 'I don't buy that for a moment' look. “Please. First, you are all with the ‘Buffy will eat' attitude; now you're just standing there being all Mr. Nervous Hand-in-the-Pockets guy.” Dawn whirled on her sister.  


 “And you! You’re obviously hungry, unless you are housing a demon in your stomach that growls at mac and cheese.”  


It didn't go unnoticed by Dawn that her sister and Spike refused to meet each others eyes, another sure sign that all was not well.
 

Suddenly Buffy felt her stomach churn, as if the butterflies that had been constant companions lately had banded together to stage a revolt. Her face turned a strange sickly white and she clamped her hand over her mouth, racing past Spike and Dawn to the bathroom up the stairs. 
 

Time was of the essence, or she was about to unleash something she really didn't want to have to clean up. She vaguely heard frantic footsteps from behind as she dropped to her knees in front of the commode and proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach.
 

Buffy gasped, trying to recover as another wave of nausea hit her, her body wrenching as she hiccupped, holding the sides of the seat trying to regain her strength.
 

She heard the sound of running water behind her. Someone lifted her hair and a cool cloth was pressed against the back of her neck before being gently patted across her face.
 

Lifting her head from its reverent tribute to the porcelain god, she struggled to hide her obvious distress from a pair of worried indigo eyes. Trying her best to smile, she reached out and flushed the toilet before climbing into his lap and allowing her heated face to be pressed against the cool and soothing chest of her mate.


Spike began to rock her back and forth, brushing a few loosened strands of hair off her damp face.
 

“I had some tuna for lunch. It tasted funny,” Buffy excused herself weakly.
 

She felt Spike nod as he held her tightly against him. “That must be it, luv.” His quick agreement lacked the necessary conviction.
 

“I’ll be okay.”
 

“Oh….my…God.” Dawn uttered, staring at the two figures cuddled on the floor of the bathroom. She leaned against the door frame, a knowing smile finding its way to her lips.
 

“Bit, she’s fine, no need to fuss. Probably just working to hard.”
 

“No, I really think it was the tuna.” Buffy interjected.
 

“Right, the tuna,” Spike asserted a bit too brightly.
 

Buffy looked up at her sister and attempted a smile to reassure her. She completely missed the knowing smirk on Dawn’s face.


“I’m not sick, so don’t worry about me.”
 

“Buffy, I know you hate doctors, but maybe you should go. I mean, if it would make the Nibblet feel better," he told her seriously, glaring at Dawn when he heard her derisive snort.
 

“I don’t think you are sick.” Dawn crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.



Spike and Buffy regarded her with eyes that were too blank and clueless to be believed. 
 


“Um, hello? Has it occurred to either of you that maybe Buffy might be well, you know…?” She extended her arms out in front of her and curved them to simulate a pregnant belly, arching and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
 


“WHAT?” Buffy sputtered, rising to her feet so fast that her head began to spin.
 


Spike leapt up and steadied her until she regained her balance.
 


“Dawnie, how could you even think that? There's no possible way!” Buffy protested.
 

Spike watched Buffy's reaction carefully. Denial struck hard once more, even with the barest whisper of sound he had heard coming from her body just moments earlier in the kitchen.
 

“Dawn, you owe your sister an apology,” he said irrationally, his eyes flickering amber for a moment, more than content to shift the attention to the wrong person.
 

“For what? Thinking she might be…”
 

“Dawn, stop!” Buffy yelled. “Don’t say it. Don’t even THINK it.”
 

“What would be so bad about it?” Dawn argued, amused by the continued stubbornness from the two people she loved most in this world.
 

“Buffy would never do that to me,” Spike argued, his arm tightening around Buffy as she melted back against him. 
 

“You know what Spike means to me, Dawn. I can’t believe you would ever think... ”
 

Dawn rolled her eyes. She loved them, she really did. But sometimes, she did not understand how two people could get things so right when it came to some stuff; yet be so completely dense when it came to others.
 

“Please. I'm not saying I think Buffy is sneaking around, I just think she may be…”
 

Buffy’s eyes widened frantically. “STOP.”

 
“You think if I don’t say it, somehow it will be less true?”
 

“Bit…”
 

“PREGNANT!” Dawn screamed, feeling triumphant that she had managed to finally get the word out.
 

The denial that came in the backlash had Dawn letting out a huge sigh of frustration.
 

Spike took an unneeded breath. “Look Bit, it’s kind of hard for that to happen. Vampire here, you know," Spike informed her unnecessarily, shifting into his demon visage to flash a little fang at her.
 

Dawn shrugged her shoulders, unimpressed.  “We live on The Hellmouth, guys. Stranger things have happened.”  She pointed to herself dramatically.  “Hello? Big green ball of energy…Key.”
 

Spike and Buffy looked at each other. Spike could hear Buffy’s heart pounding inside her chest, and yet behind it, there was the barest whisper of a sound that was too synchronized to be an involuntary body function.
 

“I can’t be,” Buffy whispered, her eyes pleading with Dawn to take it back.
 

“Well, define can’t,” Dawn said, refusing to back down. “I mean, I took health; I do know a thing or two. When you say can’t, do you mean... well…” Dawn found herself blushing at the details but then drew herself up and pinned a determined look on Buffy. Someone had to be the adult here.


“I mean, have you had a…are you…?”  Dawn groaned at her tongue's unwillingness to ask the question, stomping her foot with irritation. “Duh! Spike, you should have noticed if Aunt Flow had come to pay Buffy a visit with the way you two go at it! I mean hello…vampire!” Dawn finally got out.
 

Spike cleared his throat, finally getting what the girl was indicating. How HE had missed it was beyond him as well. It was a natural monthly occurrence in all living females. Surely if that had happened, he would have been one of the first to know… Shaking himself from his lusty thoughts, he refocused on the situation at hand.
 

“I..haven’t I just thought that maybe it was a coming back from the dead thing.”
 


“Well only one way to find out,” Dawn deduced, dangling Spike’s car keys from her finger.
 
***
 
An hour later, three members of the Slayer’s household sat in the bathroom staring at a washcloth on the sink.
 


They had gone to the drug store the hour previous. After the initial embarrassment of being seen in said aisle, the three nearly got kicked out of the store because of the heated debate over which test would be most accurate. When it came time to pay for the test, Buffy found herself highly embarrassed. Dawn rolled her eyes and held out her hand. Both of them looked at her, mortified.
 

Spike not understanding what the big deal was, grabbed the test and strode toward the checkout stand. It was not until the checker scanned the item and gave him a look that Spike began to understand why his mate was so shy about getting the bloody thing. The male cashier cleared his throat and put the test in a small brown bag. The others in line shifted uncomfortably as they eyed his purchase. Spike scowled at them, growling a bit as he snatched the bag from the cashier.
 

“I don‘t see what the bloody fuss is about. You sell the damn things for a reason!”
 

Trying to quell his self-consciousness, Spike walked out of the drug store with his cocky, swaggered walk a bit more exaggerated than the situation warranted.
 

Now, he sat on the counter with Buffy standing between his legs. Dawn sat on bathtub’s edge. All three of them eyed the egg timer that slowly ticked away.
 

Finally, mercifully, they heard a loud ring resonate through the air, echoing off the walls.
 

Dawn took a deep breath, holding the box up.
 

“All right. One line means, no. Two lines means diapers and crying for the two of you.” Dawn stood up reaching for the towel.
 

Buffy stopped her.
 

"We’ve got it,” she assured the gangly teen, figuring it was time to act like the adult.
 

Buffy looked at Spike, who merely nodded. She took a deep breath and unwrapped the towel to reveal the stick.
 

There they were. Clear as day. Two blue lines staring up at the unconventional couple. Confirming the thing they had both been afraid to say.
 

Ever the impatient teenager, Dawn looked at the stick herself and squealed.
 

“Oh my gosh!!! You’re pregnant!! I’m going to be an Aunt!!” She threw her arms around both of them, squeezing joyfully.
 

Spike and Buffy stood there, still in shock.
 

They heard the front door open.
 

“Buffy? Dawn? Spike? Anyone here?”
 TBC....
Thank you sooo much for all of the reviews!!

Spike and Buffy stood there, still in shock.
They heard the front door open.
“Buffy? Dawn? Spike? Anyone here?”
TBC....
chapter 12
chapter by Bloodshedbaby

Dawn squealed and tried running out of the bathroom only to have her way blocked by Buffy.

“Where are you going?”

“Duh! I’m going to go tell Tara I’m going to be an aunt,” Dawn replied excitedly, her youthful enthusiasm almost contagious.

Almost but not quite.

“Think you should let your sis be the one to break the news, don’t you?” Spike suggested, still completely gob smacked by the news.

“You guys suck.” With a dramatic spin, Dawn flounced from the bathroom and down the stairs, pouting about having to keep the news regarding the new life to herself.

“A baby, Spike,” Buffy whispered finally, turning to look at her gorgeous vampire, her hand resting instinctively on the toned expanse of her abdomen. A shy smile emerged. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Spike’s head tipped slightly to the side that Buffy had come to recognize as his pensive pose. His hand reached out and covered the one splayed across her stomach, his fingers caressing lightly.

“How do you feel about this, pet?” he asked softly, noticing the signs of fatigue and stress weathered on her face that hadn’t been present for a while. It had taken a lot of work to wipe them off of her face after she came back, and it pained him to see them again.

“I-I…” Buffy gave a self-conscious laugh. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t think it’s quite hit me yet.”

A flicker of doubt crept into his mind and Spike found himself voicing the very question that deep down, he already knew the answer to.

“You do… want to keep it, right?”

Her eyes shot emerald daggers at him as she shoved his hand away. “Hello! News from the file marked duh! Of course I want it!” Then the same flicker of doubt crept into Buffy’s mind. “You want it, right?”

A slow smirk curled across his lips. “News from the file marked duh,” he quoted softly, drawing her into his arms. “We’re having a baby.”

His lips lowered to seek hers, slow and sweet, his tongue taking its time in gaining entry to her mouth. Buffy’s arms snaked around his neck and she pressed herself closer, closing her eyes to ignore the disturbing visual of Spike’s lack of reflection.

Spike’s hand had just made its way to cup her ass, hauling her up against his erection when the sound of a snicker disrupted his tactile exploration. He looked up to see Dawn’s smirking face and the blushing profile of Tara.

“Um, sorry,” Tara apologized, still not entirely used to walking in on a full Spike and Buffy make-out session.

Dawn snorted. “They do that ALL the time. You kinda have to get used to it after awhile.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and turned around in Spike’s embrace, bringing his arm around to band around her abdomen as she leaned back against him. “Hi Tara.”

“Glinda,” Spike acknowledged in way of greeting.

“So what’s up?” Buffy asked perkily as she felt something perky from behind her rubbing her ass. She turned her head to look at Spike and gave him a look telling him to knock it off.


“Uh, I just wanted to stop by to see if Dawn wanted to go to the movies.”

“Oh! I totally do! Can we go see that new Brad Pitt movie? Please?” Dawn begged. “Buffy won’t go with me, says she doesn’t need the yumminess of Brad when she has Spike at home. So pleeeeeeease.”

“I can do Brad Pitt,” Tara assured her easily, glad for the company.

At Spike’s snort, Buffy smacked his arm. “God Spike! Gutter brain!”

Dawn rolled her eyes and as she was walking away to get ready, she tossed over her shoulder, “Oh, don’t forget to tell Tara the good news.” With a wink, she was out of sight.

Buffy sighed. “She’s so subtle.” She missed Tara’s intense scrutiny, her face pensive.

“Actually, I think you probably would be the best person to talk to about it.” Buffy reached behind her for Spike’s hand, suddenly nervous to actually SAY the words out loud to another person.

Because that made it real.

A baby. Their baby. She was pregnant. From rotting in her grave to celebrating the miracle of life times two in the span of a few short months.

Tears sprung unbidden to swim in her eyes and Buffy swiped at them hastily before they had a chance to escape and slide down her cheeks.

“A-are you ok, Buffy?” Tara asked gently, having noted a shift in Buffy’s aura earlier.

Buffy smiled weakly through her unshed tears. “Yeah. I’m just a bit, uh, emotional, I guess.” She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Buffy didn’t know what she had anticipated Tara’s response to be, but it wasn’t the tearful spontaneous hug she gave them both she and Spike.

“Congratulations!” Tara said warmly, earning another notch in Spike’s esteem for the lack of awkward questions and the quiet, happy acceptance.

He knew it was exactly what Buffy needed at that exact moment and whether Tara knew it or not, Spike would never consider her as anything but family from that moment forward.

Knowing Dawn would be interrupting any minute, Spike asked the question that had been niggling in his gut since he first heard that tiny wisp of sound from his girl’s belly.

“My boys should have been as dead as I am, Glinda. This shouldn’t have been possible. I know I should just be thanking the bloody stars right now, but something is sitting uneasy here. I need to know how. Can you help?”

Tara had seen a lot of changes take place with this particular vampire over the course of the year, but this quiet intensity was something new.

Spike was scared.

Tara reached over and laid a calming hand on the arm that held Buffy snuggled against his side. “Don’t worry, I’ll help in any way I can.”

Buffy hugged her, not able to help herself as another torrent of spastic hormones flooded her system. “I just want to make sure everything is ok, you know? What with the being dead and all.” She blinked as she considered what she had just said. “I mean me being dead, not Spike. Wait…”

Tara smiled tenderly at the other girl. “I understand, sweetie.” She looked over Buffy’s shoulder at Spike. “I am going to research the spell again. We might find the answer there.”

“Or it could be a prophecy,” Buffy grumbled.

“Or maybe it’s because the Mighty Sperm of Spike just refuse to die, ever bloody think of that?” Spike challenged cockily, beginning to feeling a mite chuffed that not only did he manage to get a bird knocked up in his current undead state; but that the bird in question was no other than the Slayer.

Life was good.

Any further pertinent conversation was interrupted by Dawn loud arrival, now freshly coiffed. “Eww! You guys are still in the bathroom? Thought you would have at least gone downstairs or something.” She looked excitedly over at Tara. “Did they tell you?”

“Yes Dawnie, we told her,” Buffy replied, glad to have at least two people so entirely enthusiastic over this mysterious pregnancy thing.

Dawn squealed, her eyes bright with excitement. “I can’t wait to find out if it’s a boy or a girl! OH MY GOD. We get to decorate a nursery!”

A slight hint of fear nudged at Buffy as further reality of having a baby sunk in and Spike was right on top of it, taking Buffy by the hand and leading her out of the bathroom and away from the glaringly positive pregnancy test.

Settled around the kitchen island, Spike addressed his concerns. “Bit, we’ve got lots of time to get all those little details sussed out. The important thing is making sure your sis and the weeta-bit are ok.” He shared a look with Buffy, a mutual understanding taking place. “And until we know exactly how this baby came to be, it is probably best to keep a lid on it.”

When Dawn opened her mouth to argue, Tara intervened. “Spike’s right, Dawn. Yes, Buffy is pregnant, and that is a very wonderful thing. BUT, and this is very important, the father of this baby is a vampire, and that fact alone means we have to tread carefully.”

“So… I don’t get to tell anyone?” Dawn pouted, the fact that her niece or nephew could very well be a vampire hybrid of absolutely no importance to her.

Buffy shook her head sadly. “No, I’m sorry Dawn. Not until we know for sure.” Seeing the sad look on her sister’s face, Buffy felt compelled to add, “I tell you what though. I think we may need Giles’ help here. I’ll let you be the one to tell him the good news.”

Dawn flashed a smile and then in a flurry of every ounce of her teenage energy, was out the door with Tara, leaving Spike and Buffy alone.

TBC

Sorry for the delay between updates!! WILL get better though. Thank you for reading!