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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay. I wasn't planning on submitting this when I wrote it. But I figured I might as well. It's not proofread, so there's probably quite a few errors in it. But it should provide some background for you guys.


Also! Thank you guys so much for the reviews. They really do make me happy.
Chicago, 1942


Spike inhaled deeply and a mixture of blood and vanilla flooded his senses. He moaned, pushing his nose further into the tangles of hair. He slid his hand down a flat stomach, slowing when he felt healing cuts. In an instant he knew exactly where he was, what was happening. His eyes snapped open and he was greeted with the sight of a peacefully sleeping blonde vampire.


Buffy.


God, it was almost painful how bloody gorgeous she was. Even with the discolored bruised and cut up skin, she looked like heaven. She looked very much how she had when Angelus had brought her home so many years ago.


Buffy had been unconscious when Spike had first seen her. She had been beaten and broken and Angelus had discarded her lifeless body so carelessly onto the couch. Drusilla had told Spike, in so many words, that the small blonde girl looked a lot like Angelus’ dead sire.


She hadn’t awakened that night. Angelus had given her barely enough blood for her to survive, and Spike suspected that a part of Angelus hoped that she wouldn’t. Spike hadn’t been able to keep himself from checking up on her. She had looked so beautiful in her light blue dress, her blonde hair spread around her head. He had wanted to know what color her eyes would be, obsessing over it while she slept. Spike had pictures her with brown eyes, blue eye, hazel eyes. Would they be bright like her hair? Would they be troubled and jaded? He had wanted to know what her voice sounded like. He had wondered what sort of accent she’d have. Spike had tried to imagine what her laughter would sound like.


He hadn’t even known her name, heard her voice, or seen her eyes but he had known that he was already drowning in her. And so had Drusilla. That night Drusilla decided that she wanted to visit France. And they were gone before the sun went up. They were gone before the sleeping fledge opened her eyes.


While in France with Drusilla, Spike hadn’t had time to give much thought to the young vampire they left with Angelus. Spike couldn’t remember a time when Drusilla had ever been so affectionate to him. When he’d ask her about it, she’d say that she was enjoying what time she had left with him. Drusilla had referred to him as her borrowed love. Whenever his mind had drifted to Buffy, he had always figured her dead. Angelus tired easily of people and he didn’t see why it would be any different with Buffy.


Spike forced himself to sit up, the last thing he wanted to do. He carefully tried not to stir the woman at his side. Sunlight streamed into the room from the top of the curtain, lighting up the ceiling. The red curtains casted a pink glow to the room. His head was pounding and he tried to remember how much he had drank last night. He put his face in his palm, trying to dull the sharp pain piercing his brain. “Bloody hell.”


Buffy groaned and shifted, twisting her body until she was facing him. Her arms slid over his waist and she sighed. He stiffened. Spike gently picked her hand up by the wrist and cautiously scooted so that there was room to place her hand onto the dark blue sheets. He then gingerly slipped out from under the blankets and off the bed. Staying for a moment, he gazed at her longingly. She looked so small in the large bed; all he could think about was how perfectly she had fit in his arms. Spike treaded hastily to the door, pausing once more to glance at her. A moment later, her eyes opened. Her lovely, big green eyes.


Spike looked away and rushed out the door, shutting it behind him. This was no good. This was all wrong. Spike entered his own room.


Drusilla. Drusilla. Drusilla. Drusilla. Think about Drusilla. Your sire, your love, your everything. Drusilla. Who was probably upstairs fucking Angelus, without a second thought about him.


Fuck.


He collapsed onto his own bed. Growled in frustration. Why was he so drawn to her? She was just a weak minion. He could break her in half if he wanted to. Except she wasn’t nearly as useless as every other minion he’d ever met was. And she had the prettiest smile out of every other minion he’d ever met. Spike clenched his teeth.


Drusilla and Spike had met up with Angelus nearly twenty years after he had first seen Buffy. Drusilla wasn’t as shocked as Spike was to see her. Buffy was more beautiful than he had remembered. And when she spoke… Buffy was a delicious mixture of sugary sweetness and fiery wit. And as he had felt himself getting wrapped up in her, he could practically feel Drusilla pushing him away, hear her telling him that he was surrounded in sunshine. In turn he had attempted to devote all of his attention to Drusilla, ignoring Buffy the best he could. But that hadn’t worked. And that time it had been Spike who had dragged them away from Angelus and his pet.


At some point in his thoughts, Spikes eyes had drifted closed and he had fallen asleep.


He woke a few hours later. Spike got up and hesitantly left the room. He immediately spotted Buffy sitting on the couch. Biting his lip, he contemplated returning to his room. Shook his head. No, he’d come to realize that avoiding Buffy was a lot harder than it seemed. A lot more exhausting as well.


Buffy stretched, letting out a little yawn. He watched the pain in her face. Taking in the aftereffects of the damage that had been caused to her, Spike wondered what her unlife would be like if Angelus wasn’t in love with her; if Angelus didn’t hate her for making him love someone as much as he had loved his sire.


“Mornin’, luv.” He whispered.


“Good morning.” She replied politely. Buffy didn’t look at him. He wished she would. She brought a hand up to touch her face, as if to checking on the progress of her healing cuts.


Spike ambled over to her and took a seat next to her on the couch. He kicked his feet out and rubbed his palms against his jeans, suddenly wishing for a smoke. He glanced at her. “Angelus did quite a number on you.”


“So did your girlfriend.” Buffy replied, monotonously.


An awkward silence fell over them. Spike thought back to a conversation he had at a demon bar the other day. He paused for a moment, weighing the pro’s and con’s. Spike bit his lip. He should think of his reputation. Except the words were already spilling out of his mouth and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it: “So, what’re you doin tonight, pet?”


Buffy finally looked at him, raising an eyebrow and shrugging. “Minioning. You’d have to ask Angelus, really.”


“Have you ever seen a Lilth demon before?” Spike already knew the answer to that. Not many people have seen a Lilth demon before. They were impossible to track because they traveled by teleportation.


“No, but I hear they’re brilliant. All fire, and purple skin, and—“ Buffy’s eyes widened, excitedly. “Wait, are you saying that there’s a Lilth clan around here?”


Spike grinned, pleased by her quick change of attitude, “Maybe.”


Buffy let out a quick squeal, then looked away, embarrassed by her behavior. She hesitated for a moment, thinking. A look of resolve fell over her face though, and she nodded to herself. She smiled brightly at him. “Fuck Angelus, you’re taking me. I demand it.”


It took a moment before Spike could form words, struck dumb from her smile. “Pushy lil’ chit, aren’t you?”


“Hey, you shouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t want to take me.”


Spike chuckled at her, ran a hand through his hair. “Right then. Go get ready, kitten, and we’ll leave as soon as the sun sets. Oh and how ‘bout we don’ tell Angelus about our little outing. Yah?”


Buffy nodded eagerly, “Yeah, that would probably be all of the bad.”


Spike nodded as well. Buffy stood up and bounded to her room, only to return a moment later. “Hey, Spike?”


He turned around on the couch to look at her with questioning eyes.


“Why are you all of the sudden being nice to me?”


Spike blinked, surprised. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. What could he say? That he had dreamt about her every night over the last few weeks? That Drusilla couldn’t even stand to look at him anymore, saying that when she did, all she saw was Buffy? That he was tired of trying to deny it?


He shrugged and looked away from her gaze. “I’ll get back to you with the answer when I figure it out...”


She didn’t push it, for which Spike was grateful. As she left he sat there, a sense of ease washed over him.


Chapter End Notes:
Okay. I wasn't planning on submitting this when I wrote it. But I figured I might as well. It's not proofread, so there's probably quite a few errors in it. But it should provide some background for you guys.


Also! Thank you guys so much for the reviews. They really do make me happy. Next chapter: Angelus, violence, spuffiness, and Drusilla.



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