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Spike held her until she was calm enough to make the journey down stairs. Once in the kitchen, he made them both a drink.

“Aah, nothing like a good cuppa tea.” Spike blew on the steaming cup appreciatively.

“There’s blood in the fridge if you want it. I can warm it up for you if you like.” Hilda smiled over at the vampire, trying to keep her cup steady enough to drink from it.

“You need to get your rest, my witch. Can look after myself – after all that’s what I’ve been doing for the last hundred odd years.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I must admit, I feel absolutely exhausted.”

“So what do you think that was in aid of? Alice usually that nosy?” Spike looked at her over the rim of his cup.

“Oh yes, and she has been competing for the leadership of the coven for some time now, I suppose she was trying to see if there was something dodgy going on here.” Hilda laughed humourlessly, “How the hell did I think I was going to get away with having a vampire to stay? I should have thought of a cover story to give them. Of course the coven was going to get involved – perhaps not as quickly as tonight, but they were bound to find out about you, sooner or later. I’m such a stupid woman.”

“Not your fault pet. I kinda invited myself didn’t I? Tell you what, I’ll just bugger off now – they can’t blame you – not after Alice checked my bonds and all.”

“No Spike, I won’t let them dictate what I should do. If you go now, you’ll be vulnerable. If I know her, she’ll follow and kill you. We’ll have to find another solution.”

They sat at the kitchen table, tea forgotten, both immersed in their own thoughts.

“Who’s Steven?” Spike asked suddenly.

Paling, she said sharply “How do you know about Steven?”

“Last night, one of the witches asked you how you could bring a monster like me into the house, after what happened to Steven. Got me wondering who he is.”

“He was my brother.” She said expressionlessly.

“Was?”

“Yes, he was murd… killed by vampires.”

Spike looked at her shrewdly “Weren’t going to tell me about that – why?”

“It happened a long time ago. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Well then, it won’t hurt to tell me now.”

Sighing she told him. When she was 11 years old, her adored older brother Steven went to university – the first to do so in her family. She persuaded her parents to let her go with them to visit him. She ran on ahead of them to his room. “I thought he was sleeping,” she said her voice quavering, “I shook him and he rolled over and all I could see was the blood.”

Spike looked away, “You don’t have to say any more.” He said quietly.

But now she had started to tell the tale, she couldn’t stop.

“I was traumatised for a long time and so were my parents. They split up a couple of years later and life was never the same after that. I started to “see” things. Mum thought it was my imagination, that I could see colours around people. And then when objects started to fly around when I got angry, she sent me to a mental institution. That sounds harsh, but she was so mixed up herself, that she thought it was for the best. I was there for a few months, and then discharged into my grandmother’s care. She was the saving of me. Apparently, she had been able to see auras when she was young, so she knew what I was talking about. Just having someone who believed in me, was such a relief.”

Spike nodded. He knew just what she meant.

“Grandma put me in touch with a group of women – some of whom are now part of my coven – and they taught me how to control my powers. I trained to be a nurse when I left school – it was either that or be a secretary. I never fancied office work, and I found nursing quite fulfilling. But the coven and the witchcraft were central to my life, and have been ever since.”

“You could have dusted me as soon as you saw me that first day. Why did you let me live?” Spike asked softly.

“Because of the colours in your aura.” She answered simply.

“Vamps don’t have coloured auras.” He said blankly.

“That’s what everything I have read, or heard about states,” she said with a glimmer of a smile, “but yours is shot with green and gold.”

“Is that why you wanted me here? To study me?” He could feel his chest tighten painfully as he waited for her to answer.

Hilda stared back at him. “I wanted you here because I like you,” she said, “as simple as that.” She leaned forward and patted his hand.

Spike looked down, suddenly finding the tablecloth fascinating, tracing the pattern on it with his finger. Then his head came up and he gave her a smile of such intensity, that she had to smile back.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Humming under his breath, Spike made another cup of tea to replace the now cold ones. When they finished, he helped the witch back upstairs and into bed, switching off the light as he left. When he was in his own bed, he thought back over the events of the night. He grinned as he thought about her reaction to his little bit of playacting in the loft and then his smile softened, as he remembered her words in the kitchen.

‘My friend Hilda’, he thought trying out the phrase. Friend. He thought back. When was the last time he’d had a friend? Never that’s when. He’d had acquaintances and colleagues when he was living – but no real friends. And since he’d been turned, not even that.

He didn’t care that he sounded like a bloody poofter. He felt a warmth and satisfaction when he thought about her. She wanted to be with him because….. bloody hell, he didn’t know why she wanted to be with him, he was just glad she did. He knew what he felt about her – admiration for her strength of personality and determination, respect for her power and an appreciation of her sense of humour. He found he was grinning like an idiot.

Eventually he drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Buffy regarded the many bags and boxes that were the result of her shopping spree. She just hoped that all the new stuff would fit into her luggage for the return journey, whenever that was.

Giles had been surprisingly good about trailing after her in the many stores she visited, even giving his opinion of several different outfits that she tried on. Only when it got late, he caved and asked plaintively if they could stop and have a meal somewhere.

Buffy had actually got through most of the day without thinking about Spike and what he and the witch were up to. Why did she care? She only knew that she did. Now that they were back, all the morning’s upset, disappointment and regrets came flooding back. Why the hell hadn’t she told him that she was slowly changing towards him? It would have been awkward (and god knows he could make things awkward), but it might have meant that he would have stayed in London. She groaned and vowed not to think about it again. Yeah, right!

She sighed and started to get ready for the evening at the theatre, that Giles had been so keen on. Perhaps it would give her a few hours of Spike-free thoughts.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


He was walking through an endless series of caves, trying to find a way out. He could smell dampness in the air and suddenly he was engulfed in water. A burning sensation spread all over his body. He was swimming in holy water! Spike woke abruptly. What the hell? The room was filled with a ghostly blue glow and the crystal at his throat was warm. He tried to call out, but only a wail rose from his throat. Not abloodygain! As he pushed himself upright, he was aware of an increasing pain throughout his body. Then he was filled with terror. With one move he was out of the bed and pressed into the corner behind the table, crouched with his hands over his head, whimpering.

“Spike, what’s wrong?”

He vamped out and snarled at the newcomer. Was this where the threat was coming from? Should he attack? But his terror kept him cowering away from her.

“Oh, shit!” Hilda stared at this almost unrecognisable, wild creature. She began to mumble under her breath.

Spike knew that he had to get away. Away from this female. Away from this house. With a roar he pushed past her, bounded out of the door and down the stairs, only to crash into an invisible wall. He threw himself against it over and over, until a lassitude overtook him and he slumped down into unconsciousness.





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