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Over the next week, they had nightly meetings, and Spike would typically arrive around eleven thirty. Their shared future was finally the main topic of conversation, rather than arguing over whether or not it was going to happen at all.

They tried to sort through numerous concerns- mainly Buffy's -and all of the life changes the claim might bring. Along with those, she fairly demanded to know more about his past.

Buffy's guess was that it wasn't good. Spike didn't talk about the cruel monster he used to be and today suppressed, unless she asked. The little she did understand could be figured for no other reason than all the reading she'd done on vampires.

When she did want to hear details, take it all in a little better, Spike would answer to her curiosity, but it made him uncomfortable to do so. He never left anything out or beat around the bush, but instead was brutally honest, and while Buffy should be grateful, his past still bothered her.

However, on a very selfish level, knowing he stopped doing awful things because of her made everything a little easier to accept. And she couldn't go back in time and change anything, and neither could he, so she mollified any disgust with the logical point that it was what he did now in life, that mattered. It may sound self-centered and ignorant, and maybe it was, but Buffy had enough concerns lately and maintaining a moral high ground wasn't on the list of things that would help her in any way.

On a lighter note, in between those not so pretty pictures he painted, Buffy found that she was perfectly able to listen to the mundane stories and private anecdotes about Spike. She knew that he liked spicy foods and watching TV, even playing video games. Sarcastic on the regular, and strong willed, he enjoyed referring to her by any name he could think of that wasn't actually her name.

He could get Buffy's temper going with as little as one word. Lately, it seemed he was always baiting her, too, and obviously she didn't know why. Upon reflection though, she realized that Spike and her typically started fighting right before they ended up doing... something else.

Kissing. Not just a peck on the cheek or lips gently brushing, but hot, memorable encounters. Kisses that got her blood going, kisses no respectable couple would ever display out in public, filled with rough tenderness that too many people in this world lived without.

The intimacy between them must have rooted at some point when Buffy wasn't looking.

She found herself missing him. Every weekday when she was at work she thought about Spike in between authenticating pieces and making arrangements for upcoming auctions.

He was fast becoming the most exciting part of her daily routine. And with each kiss and each encounter, it got harder to let him go when sleep called her name. Fridays and Saturdays were the two nights Buffy's head didn't hit the pillows until nearly four in the morning, and she wanted less sleep just to spend that time with him, and come Monday she yearned for the work week to hurry and finish itself up.

Everything was changing, and an easier, more comfortable relationship began to root.

The claim was pushing them together, that was for sure, but it wasn't alone in its struggle. Feelings unrelated to that connection were present, and driving them closer.

Buffy had more or less accepted the situation, and every time they spoke she and Spike discussed how their lives might work. How they would be together.

But with the way their feelings were progressing, nothing seemed to pose that large of a problem.

The biggest concern at the moment was controlling libido. The desire to get closer, to be intimate and do more than just kiss, had both Spike and Buffy nearly ready to tear their own hair out, as well as each other's.

Spike was all for the fast moving. He wanted his mate. The demon in him demanded it, and to further frustrate his patience, he was finding himself getting more and more attached to Buffy Summers. It wasn't the claim or his instincts, it was the heart inside him.

Buffy was lovely, funny, beautiful, warm and supportive of her family. The woman was stubborn and could argue with him until the sun came up- not an easy feat, mind you. She did this little thing with her hair that he liked, and just looking at her lips when she talked got him halfway to breaking the zipper on his Levi's. Then whenever she got mad, he could see every ounce of the being she was through her eyes, the fighter inside.

He was enchanted, which was something that hadn't happened in a long time. Being head over heels for anyone was basically an alien concept nowadays, but Spike quickly found that it was becoming familiar once again.

Buffy, on the other hand, while seeming to warm up to him, wasn't as crazy about the idea of them sleeping together in the same bed just yet. She wanted to wait. Oh, Spike understood, of course, and had told her he would give her as much time as needed, but that was something akin to torture- for the both of them.

He often wondered if she was starting to experience the same feelings as he was, but there wasn't any way to know without asking her, and Spike wasn't about to do that.

***

Buffy stepped onto the deck at half past eleven, ready and waiting. It was Friday night again, and she'd been going through her weekly routine of leaving for work each morning, then coming home and reading until it was time to meet Spike outside.

She wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at the hidden moon. The darkness of the yard was like a cloak, a fence between the rest of the world and where the magnolia tree roots stretched. A rustle of leaves whispered in the air, and then wind chimes jingled next door like a doorbell announcing a visitor.

She greeted Spike with a smile as he came into view. "Hi," she said softly, dropping her arms at her sides. Her hair was down, he noticed. Spike loved it when she left it loose to drape around her shoulders, allowing the wind to play with the ends. He loved running his fingers through it when they kissed, loved tugging on it to get her to bare her throat for him.

"Hello, love." Leaning against the doorjamb, he smirked a little as he looked her up and down. "Nice nightgown."

Buffy threw a glance at her bare legs, then pulled self-consciously at the hem of her oversized T-shirt. "It isn't a nightgown," she groused.

Spike rose an eyebrow. "Really? So why are you wearing it to bed?"

"It's my favorite sleeping shirt."

"Yours?"

"Uh, yeah," Buffy said with a frown. "Whose else would it be?"

He got this look in his eye, a thoughtful and somewhat bothered expression. "Old boyfriend's?"

It was easy to detect the jealousy in his voice. She saw his lowered head and wandering gaze. True pleasure went through her, and not for the first time, a shiver coursed down her spine. His possessiveness was something he had no shame in, had no qualms about admitting to. She supposed the claim might make him feel vindicated, but something honestly covetous lay in his eyes, without any shadow of responsibility. And it was all beginning to bother Buffy less and less, which was the very unnerving part of it.

Shuffling her feet and tugging at the shirt again, she suddenly felt underdressed, which did manage to shake up some nerves. "Not an old boyfriend's," she muttered.

He didn't look fully convinced, though his shoulders did lower with a barely audible sigh of relief. "Well, you've got nice legs, love."

Buffy felt her cheeks heat up. She couldn't remember why she wore this shirt tonight. She'd just opened her drawer to find something comfy to sleep in, and then there it was. The weather was warm, so that could explain it, and might be a logical reason why she didn't at least put on shorts, too, even knowing Spike would be coming by. She'd worn something similar on the first night she had confronted the stranger lurking in her backyard, but that was before fear got drained out of her veins and kisses were shared between the two of them.

The idea that perhaps she wanted to tempt him went through her head, and Buffy's subconscious was nearly agreeing with it, so she tugged harder at the hem of her plain gray T and said, "I should go change."

Spike frowned and grabbed her hand before she could leave. "No, don't." At her wary, hesitant look, he smiled gently. "I won't say anything about your thighs again."

She quirked her lips and rested against the open doorway, nerves settling at his reassurance. "So, how was your day?" she asked, then her brows met in the middle. "Or I guess evening."

"I woke up late, grabbed some food, then came here," Spike answered with a little smile.

"You grabbed food?" she asked.

"From the hospital, had to restock."

"Ah. Right."

Spike almost chuckled at her now familiar nose-wrinkle. "So..." he tilted his head, pressing his lips together, "have you thought on what we talked about?"

She frowned. "We've talked about a lot of things."

"The thing that nearly caused you to break my eardrums on Tuesday."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Oh." *Yeah, THAT.* She stepped about an inch back and frowned down at the floor. "Yeah... I've tried to..."

"Been avoiding the topic?" he supplied.

She sighed. "Maybe."

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "It's a reasonable plan."

"I..." she toed at the boards that made up the deck. "It's... Spike, I can't have you living in my house."

He sighed. "It's not going to be right away."

"I know, but-"

"Buffy," he shook his head and moved a step closer; he had a look in his eye that silenced her. "I'm going barmy. Every time I leave you, it gets harder. My fangs are starting to itch in my gums." She flinched, and Spike didn't pause, though his expression softened. "I know you're feeling the separation, too, and if you don't want to make this permanent right away, then we have to compromise. Me moving in with you would make it better. I'm not going to bite you, and it'd be easier on us. We'd get a chance to-"

"To get know each other. Yeah, I get it." Buffy rubbed a hand over her eyes as she squeezed them shut. "But I... I'm not ready for-"

Suddenly, there was loud knocking at the front of the house; they both scowled and stared in that direction.

Buffy went to answer the door, and he grabbed her wrist. "I'm coming with."

"Why?"

"Who's going to be showing up this late?"

She bit her bottom lip. This situation did have the uncanny resemblance to the beginning of a horror movie, and she was with one member of the undead already. Buffy looked at Spike's concerned face, recognized that he didn't think she was expecting anyone special, and nodded. She let him follow and heard the backdoor shut as she exited the kitchen.

Upon reaching the front hall, Buffy felt her pulse skip a beat. Maybe Spike had just wigged her out, but suddenly she found herself wondering who could possibly need her attention at this hour.

The idea that it might be Dawn in need of urgent sisterly support was what got Buffy to yank the door open before Spike even cleared the dining room. The blonde woman who stood on the front porch was anything but expected.

However, she was incredibly welcome.

"Darla!" Buffy lunged at her friend with open arms, smiling at the sound of her familiar laughter. Buffy noticed the bags in the woman's arms, quickly deduced the obvious, then grinned from ear to ear. "You're staying! For how long this time?"

Darla, beautiful, funny, deviously creative, and loving to all those she considered friends, was the childhood pal Buffy had known since preschool. They'd stayed in touch after college when Darla finally moved out of the town she'd always thought too small for her. Before that, there had been thousands of sleepovers, and high school drama endured side by side. They were family. The bond they shared went deep and couldn't be cut even without months of communication. Darla sent postcards to Buffy from nearly everywhere she went, the lady loved to travel, but no matter how far she got, she knew she could always come home.

And for the fourth time since moving out of Sunnydale, she had.

Darla let Buffy take her shoulder satchel and then strolled through the doorway. "If you have room for me, I was thinking about three weeks. I'm sorry I didn't call, it was rather-"

Buffy bent to set the bag down, and the one Darla was holding dropped beside it, almost brushing her head on the way up. Buffy stood straight and colors rushed around her. She was suddenly face to face with a tense, leather covered back. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a growl, one that did not emanate from the vampire blocking her view.

"Spike!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

Before she got her answer, another question was asked. Buffy heard Darla from the other side of Spike's solid frame. "Buffy... What is he doing in your house?"

She'd never heard her friend speak to her quite like that before. Buffy moved to the side to be able to see again, and a shielding hand came to rest on her stomach. She glanced up at Spike with a scowl, but her eyes went cartoon style after laying sights on Darla.

The woman she'd known her entire life, the person she called her best friend... had fangs.

*Oh God.* "D-Darla?" she stuttered.

Spike was in game face, as tense as an ironing board. Frozen and alert, his eyes never strayed from the threat in the room. "Buffy, did you know your friend here was-"

"No," she swore breathlessly. "Darla... How- How did you-"

Before she could finish her shaky sentence, Spike had moved fast, and was hauling Darla outside- Or at least, he was trying to. She bit and growled, throwing and landing a punch square to his abdomen before he tossed her on the pavement.

Buffy's hand went to her stomach while her nerves worked to twist it into knots. Spike bolted down the steps as Darla shot up from the ground and stepped back. The sounds of growling pierced the air. For all the shocks going through her system right now, Buffy was astonished she wasn't lighting up like a Christmas tree.

It was hard to catch her breath. She thought she'd gotten punched in the stomach, and knowing that Spike was the one who'd really felt Darla's hit made anger flare inside of her. She fought it off, knowing it was a result of their connection, and focused on the foreign emotion of being afraid of her best friend. She started to tremble. "Darla- When did you-"

"Buffy, who is this?" she interrupted, her words slurring over her fangs as she stared at Spike with eyes of amber hued gold.

He interjected. "How did you get into the house?"

"I've known Buffy for years, I've had an invitation here since before and after I was turned."

Spike's hands clenched at his sides. "But she didn't know about you being dead, did she now?"

Buffy frowned sadly and tried to ask again, "Darla, wh-when did this happen?"

Finally breaking eye contact with Spike, Darla looked up, and foreign vulnerability showed itself in her unfamiliar eyes. "It happened before I left town, Buffy. Right after graduation. I couldn't hurt you and I didn't know how not to yet, so I... I left. I came back when I knew that... I could control myself around humans."

Buffy shook her head, remembering to breathe. "You've been..." She frowned harder, and swallowed. "You've been dead since we graduated college?"

Darla's lips turned down. "Yes."

Buffy's arms crossed, and she took a deep, silent breath. "Is that why you stayed away so long?"

"Partly," Darla said, "I always had to get out of Sunnydale. You knew that."

Buffy tried to wrap her mind around the idea that she had driven her friend away. She looked down and allowed logic to reassure her that is wasn't her fault, not really, but the guilt remained. She looked up and said, "I would have understood, I would have known then and I-"

"I didn't want you to be scared. I didn't want to hurt you. I couldn't. I needed you to be safe, and it was a year before I had control over all of my..." she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sighed, "impulses."

Spike rose one eyebrow very high, and said, "You're telling me you've been a vampire now for... years, and you've had free access to my mate's home the entire time, but you've never tried to hurt her?"

Too many things went through his head at that moment. His protective instincts kept telling him to tear off this Darla bint's head, or at least cast a dis-invite spell over Buffy's house. The idea that she'd been vulnerable to another vampire for so long unnerved him. Yet his mate was alive and breathing. Plus, Buffy had not invited the woman inside tonight. Darla had no problem stepping through the doorway all on her own, so that meant she'd been able to do so for quite a while.

Darla didn't answer his question, and she didn't have to, for they all knew the answer. She'd learned to control the bloodthirsty side of herself in order to protect a friend, so she wasn't typical, as vampires went. But Darla couldn't think past one word Spike had uttered just now, because her unbeating heart felt like it had dropped into her stomach. "Your... mate?" she exclaimed.

Buffy fidgeted before taking a step down, and Spike threw up his hand as if to stay her without even turning around. She only scowled, then moved down another step. "I trust her, Spike. She hasn't killed me yet, I don't think she's going to suddenly go for my throat."

"Bloody right," he said softly, nearly too quiet for Buffy to catch. "She ain't staying here, pet."

"Wait!" Darla shouted, planting one heeled boot far away from the other and cocking her hip. Her vamp face receded, but the anger in her human eyes glinted menacingly. "You two are mated?"

Buffy shook her head, almost laughing at the way she'd said the word with such disbelief. "No, we're..." She looked at Spike to see if he would elaborate, but all he did was raise his dark eyebrows expectantly and wait to hear what would come out of her mouth. Buffy swallowed. "We're going to be."

She didn't noticed the gleam of satisfaction that flashed in Spike's eyes, but Darla did. Her mouth fell open, and she moved unconsciously towards her friend.

Spike blocked her path and Darla rolled her eyes, firming her lips.

"Spike, I can trust her," Buffy repeated, and moved closer to him to place her hand on his shoulder. "We can trust her."

Even as she said the words, her heartbeat sped and then went skipping over itself again. She knew, deep down, that Darla cared about her, soulless vampire or not. The fact Buffy hadn't known she was a vampire until tonight scared her witless, of course, but she was trusting her gut. She wouldn't allow herself to be frightened of her best friend.

Besides, Spike was watchful and protective, and while she knew that putting her safety in his hands was probably naive, he was simply a backup to the very big 'IF' regarding Darla. It was another one of those gut things.

The she-vamp put her hands on her hips and looked at Spike, then at Buffy again. A defying expression came over her face. "How'd you find her?"

Buffy frowned in puzzlement. Spike answered. "Just spotted her one night. It felt like something had knocked me over the head."

"How flattering," Buffy muttered.

Spike rolled his eyes, then Darla spoke up again before he could rephrase himself. "And you've... accepted this?" she asked her friend.

Buffy looked her in the eyes, and nodded very slowly. "Only recently. It's something that..." She sighed, searching for the right words, "I can't change it, and I know that. At first..."

"At first you probably tried to toss him out of your life like yesterday's trash," Darla said, and Buffy had to smile a little at how well the woman knew her. "But not anymore?"

Spike had to grit his teeth from answering that one. *Of course 'not anymore' you halfwit! She's accepted this, don't scare her off.*

"No," Buffy replied, much to Spike's relief. "Not anymore, Darla."

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END NOTES: Hey all, I know this update is pretty late since the last one, and I apologize. It was very hard to get this chapter out and there was a lot of rewriting, plus I've been lacking in ideas and my muse JUST decided to get off her lazy butt. The reviews you've left so far have made me so happy and I really, really appreciate them, so thank you! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you thought. I will work my hardest to get the next chapter out sooner, I've already started it.





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