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7. Sleep tight



The bed groaned under his weight.
Halfway back he had slipped into unconsciousness, and the only thing she could think of was to bring him to her home. And here he was. Right here in her bedroom. But she couldn’t have left him, wounded and unconscious, in his house alone…
Really? Are you sure?
I’m the Slayer and he’s the Scourge of Europe. Here he is, lifeless, his naked, helpless chest so exposed to my stake. Just one moment, and then all I would need to do is put my dusty sheets into the washing machine…I could defeat the one that even the other vampires only dare to attack when he’s weakened…and with no struggle at all I could erase him from the face of the earth…
Buffy looked at Angelus. No, damn, it didn’t work like that…he looked like he was asleep. But he wasn’t. And she had saved him.
She took the first-aid kit and, sitting on the bed, she began to tend to his wounded hand. Oh, she knew very well what he was. And that was the problem. He was the Scourge. He couldn’t die until he realised that: not kneeling on the floor of a church, helpless. Not in a bed, unconscious. Not the Scourge.
She bandaged his hand, and then approached his face. You’re the disease and I’m the cure, she thought, looking at his parted mouth and the long eyelashes, outlined by the cold moonlight; if you are to die, it must be looking into my eyes, while you’re fighting with me…
Yes, that’s the reason why I saved you. It’s because of that.
She touched him on the chest, over the heart, softly moving her fingers across it. Nothing. No heartbeat at all. Complete silence. Of course. She put her cheek on that cold and motionless chest, holding him tight.
Who were you when your dead heart was beating? Your real name was Liam. And you used to dream and be frightened, just like me…
Buffy realized she was tired and she surrendered, forgetting the unanswered questions in her mind…
Is that your darkness, Angelus? The darkness I had to embrace and taste in order to know and fight it? Is that it, or not?
The slayer fell asleep, her lips on the vampire’s heart.

Right. This was the right place. A crypt. Grandma was really angry, and it wasn’t a good idea to go back to the old factory. Not without their daddy to protect them. He wasn’t with them at this moment, but he would be back soon. Drusilla knew that. She knew he couldn’t be too far away from them. He never was.
She put Spike down on the lid of a nearby sarcophagus. Half of his face was burnt and something was wrong with his bones…she had heard them crack. She caressed his white-gold hair.
Poor child…grandma had been so naughty. Her angel would be very angry…Drusilla laughed and her giggle echoed in the crypt, like the tinkle of little bells. She liked that sound and she laughed again. Oh, she felt good at last…so good. And everything had been so easy…to escape from the ruins, from the fire, to nurse her wounded knight…and she was strong again. As she had been before Prague, maybe even stronger!
She looked at Spike, lying unconscious like a puppet with no strings, like her dolls…poor, poor child…she held his head against her breast, whispering a lullaby. He would get better too. She would take care of him. As she sang, she made a little cut between her breasts and lifted her king’s mouth to it. Immediately his mouth became stained with her dark blood, and after a while she felt him suckle on it weakly, unaware but resolute.
Yes…yes…like that, my king of hearts, drink from your black goblet, drink the nectar coming from the killing angel…Yes, Drusilla thought, cradling him, drink and sleep…drink and sleep…

Knocks. Deep. Precise. Rhythmic. Excited.
A heart that beats. With emotion…A heart…
Buffy suddenly awoke, startled, and instinctively glanced at the chest on which she had fallen asleep, searching for a sign of the heartbeat she had dreamed of. But, obviously, she would never find it there…there had been only silence in his chest, for more than two hundred years…
It took her only a few seconds to wake up completely, and to understand that the knocking of her dream was real. It came from the ground floor. Someone was knocking violently on the door…
She leaned carefully over the window-sill. Outside it was getting light, and in her garden she could see…Giles! What was Giles doing there?!
She turned back to watch Angelus. His position was the same as it had been some hours earlier, but he looked more relaxed. And he was so damn handsome…
She closed the shutters, panic-stricken. What did Giles want? Maybe he had discovered that…?
Quiet. Go down, let him in, and keep quiet. Easier said than done.
When she opened the door and saw the watcher’s shocked face, she was struck dumb with amazement. He was really pale, sweating, he had lost the glasses from which he was normally inseparable, and his left temple and forehead were badly bruised. “What…what happened to you?”
“What…? What happened to you?!” Giles shrieked. He fell silent, looking worried. “Oh gosh…your mother! I must have woken her…I…”
“No”, Buffy reassured him, inviting him inside with a gesture of her head. “The art gallery is going amazingly well, and she’s had to go back to LA again. She didn’t want to, but I convinced her, knowing what…was supposed to happen…last night…”
“Yes, and speaking of last night, Buffy - where were you? Why didn’t you call me?” Giles attacked her. “Can you imagine what I thought when I saw the church in ruins?”
Buffy’s head was spinning. She looked at him, her green eyes confused. “The church in ruins…What…?” And finally she understood. “You were there? You…”
Oh God, had he seen her while she was saving Angelus?
“I was looking for you…but someone hit me over the head before I could go inside the church…”he mumbled, pointing at his damaged face. “And when I woke up, the firemen were putting out the fire”.
“The fire?”
“The church has burnt down, Buffy. And you…” Giles couldn’t hold back his emotion. “I didn’t know if you…”
A fire. Spike…had he escaped in time?
“I was afraid that…” he insisted, worried by her distant expression.
Buffy was shocked. “Oh my God, Giles! I’m so stupid! I hadn’t even thought about…”
I hadn’t thought about you, Giles, I’m sorry. I was thinking about someone else.
She took his hands. “It’s because…because nothing went the way it was supposed to. Nothing.”
Giles calmed down. She was clearly shocked. “What happened? Tell me everything.”
Everything. Mhm…maybe it would be better to leave out some things.
“The ritual had begun, and I was just about to show myself, when suddenly a group of vampires came into the church, led by one they called Darla,” Buffy explained, sitting down on the first step of the stairs.
“Darla…It’s a familiar name…”
“Angelus and Spike knew her...anyway, there were too many of them, Giles. Even for me.”
He nodded. “Of course. So you retreated. You made the expedient choice, and the right one too.”
“I tried…to get away, I mean,” Buffy whispered, as a brief stab of pain in her back left her breathless.
Giles knelt down next to her. “Are you wounded?”
“Just a bit bruised…I was fighting against someone who was really strong. And she wasn’t a vampire. Giles, I think she was a slayer.”
“What?!”
“Her name was Faith. She knew about me. And she mentioned something that had happened nine months ago…nine months ago, do you understand, Giles?”
“Nine months ago you died. Only for a few minutes. But it was enough.” Giles shook his head, incredulous.
“A new slayer…” He gripped the banister, frowning. “But I don’t understand why the Council hasn’t told me anything about her. And her Watcher? He should have informed me immediately….”
Buffy stood up, looking serious. “And why was Faith with Darla?”
Giles blinked his eyes. “Pardon?”
“I told you, we fought. Faith was with Darla, trust me.”
“My God…a slayer who fights on the side of the vampires…that’s abhorrent…” Resolute, Giles headed for the door. “I must speak with the Council as a matter of urgency. If there’s a rebel slayer, she could be more dangerous than Angelus or Spike…” he stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Regarding the ritual…did they perform it or not?”
“I don’t know…”Buffy sighed. “I left as soon as I could …”
He smiled at her sympathetically. “And you did the right thing, don’t worry. Being a slayer doesn’t mean taking irresponsible decisions. You assessed the enemy’s forces and you thought it was better to retreat. A mature and wise decision.” His smile became wider, full of affection. “Stay at home today. Relax. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
Buffy reacted mechanically, seeing him out, repeating her apologies, double-locking the door…and then she ran upstairs as fast as she could, into the bathroom, and vomited.
Abhorrent. Giles had said that - talking about Faith, not knowing that it was also the most appropriate definition for her…abhorrent…her face still covered in dirt, her back aching unbearably, she collapsed in a heap next to the toilet and began to cry.


The birds were singing. Bloody hell, yes, he could hear some fucking birds twittering…Where the hell was he? In the vampire’s circle?
Spike slowly levered himself up on one elbow. He could only open one eye, and all he could see were old stones and rusty iron candlesticks. And red candles. And…Oh, yes! And Drusilla!
She noticed he was awake and went over to him. Her velvet dress swished around her. “Darling…”
Spike abandoned himself to her perfumed embrace, and his hands lost themselves in touching her, feeling her alive and real again, no longer feeble and fragile, like a dream ready to disappear.
“The ritual worked…”
“Yes…Oh, yes…”Drusilla whispered, nibbling his ear. “And you, my darling, how do you feel?”
Spike swallowed. He didn’t feel too good. No. Damn. “I think…I can’t feel my legs…”
From her throat came a low and sensual sound, like the purr of a cat. She slid up the sarcophagus towards him. “Soon you’ll be feeling much better…” She slipped a hand inside his jeans. “Can you feel that?”
“Yeah, I can feel it…” Spike whispered, and he took her porcelain face in his hands, asking for a kiss.
That’s good…yes, he thought, playing with her lips and her tongue, that’s the taste I know so well, that’s my black goddess’s delicious mouth…the other one…the other one never had such a taste…
“I missed you, kitten…the nights were so cold without you…”
Drusilla unzipped his jeans, and the tips of her long black curls trailed across his taut belly.
“My poor baby…Now I’ll give you nights so hot that you’ll burn…”


“More?” Buffy asked, trying to avoid looking at the empty trays of blood on the carpet. On her carpet.
Angelus stretched his limbs, crossing his arms behind his head. The bed seemed too small for him. “Let me explode one of your myths, Buffy…vampires aren’t mosquitoes. We don’t gulp food till we look like balloons…” He sighed, satisfied. “Really. I’m full. Had more than enough blood.”
Her gaze lingered a little too long on his pectorals. “I thought you were weak…”
“I was…” he confirmed. “Why do you stay over there, on the other side of the room? I won’t be able to thank you as I should, if you don’t come closer.”
“Thank me?”
“Sure. Usually it’s normal to say thank you to the people who help you…” noticing her worried expression, Angelus laughed. “May God strike me dead! What an unforgivable sin this little child has committed…she saved the bogeyman…”
Buffy clenched her teeth. She didn’t want to talk about that. Not now. Not with him. Better change the subject. “Who was that girl?”
“Uh…which girl?”
“That girl…the blonde one.”
“Ah…Darla…” Angelus laid on his side. “She’s my sire.”
“So, the one who made you…” Buffy whispered. “Oh.” This new information didn’t endear Darla to her. At all. “Last night. She was angry with you.”
“Angry…that’s a polite way to describe it. And also inadequate and restrictive. Darla doesn’t get angry…she tortures you, or she kills you. Or both. And often not in that order.” The vampire stifled a yawn, plumped up the pillow and wrapped his arms around it, lying back contentedly.
“But there must be a reason why she’s so angry with you…”
“Sure, but that’s a personal affair, my dear child, if you don’t mind.”
“Personal?” Buffy said, coming a step closer. “I shot her with an arrow. I think I’m a little bit involved…”
“You can’t possibly understand…” he replied. “As you didn’t understand the ritual.” He raised his head, looking her with his impenetrable glance. “You couldn’t understand the reason why I had to suffer all that pain.”
“You looked as if you were dying…”
“There was a remote chance, yes…It was vital for Spike to stop the flow just in time”.
Buffy frowned. “And what if Spike hadn’t done that? If Darla hadn’t come, and Spike hadn’t stopped the flow? Do you trust him that much?”
“Trust Spike?” Angelus’ eyes widened. “Hell will freeze over before I do that! I’ve never trusted him. Not him, nor myself.” He smiled at her. “Do you see? You really don’t understand…”
“You’re damn right I don’t. But maybe if you can explain it to me…”
“Explain what? A race that is different from yours?” He shook his head, skeptical, and stretched lazily, rubbing against the sheets like a beautiful big cat. “The relationships between vampires are complicated and inaccessible for humans. We love in our own way”.
Buffy had edged right up to the bed without even realizing it. “You’re saying that you love Spike and Drusilla?”
“I’m saying what I’ve said,” he answered cryptically. Then he noticed how she was suffering. “Your back…a powerful girl, that other slayer. She nearly broke it, didn’t she?”
“As if you care…” She didn’t like that pliant tone at all. She tried to get away, but Angelus took her wrist.
“And that’s easier for you?”
“What?”
“Thinking I don’t care.” His eyes were two lakes of sweet, soft darkness, and she wanted so badly to fall in…not to think, to forget…how strong the power of this demon must be, that he could seem so sweet and so dreadful at the same time…
Oh my God. I saved him. I saved that monster. And I didn’t do that in order to kill him.
Her pain slipped away like water. She lay on the bed, her body covering the vampire’s; she nibbled his lips, opened and tasted his mouth, she caressed his hips, his back, his buttocks…she wanted him close…as close as he could get, and closer still….
“Do you want to thank me?” she gasped, her lips on his. “Well, pretend that you do care”





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