Chapter 1

Many thanks to my dear Beta who has been so enthusiastic about this fic that I have decided to add it to my list of WIPs – thank you sweetie for sorting through the typos and keeping me inspired.

Be warned there is a death of a main character-- and not just the one you might think! Also some squicky touching that may upset!

Italics – thoughts
~~~~~~~~~~~

He ran as fast as he could.

Dodging through the sewers with only one thought on his mind. She was dead; he was alone.

Buffy was gone.

Despair clutched at his heart and his throat ached from the continuous roars of anguish that unconsciously erupted from him as his feet pounded through the detritus.

She was gone.

He could still hear the excited voices of the demons chattering at the bar stuck on repeat. Over and over he heard them and their celebrations. ‘Ambulance…spotted outside the Slayer’s house… gurney with a black bag on it…closed…couldn’t see who was in it…heard the EMT say it was female…’

All around him they were toasting the death of the Slayer.

The cheers rang hollow in his ears as he’d gripped the bar to support himself. Spike had ignored the splinters that had cut into his fingers as he attempted to anchor himself in the maelstrom of emotions that were buffeting him--she was dead. He’d killed two of her kind with little concern for the knock on effects of his actions, they had fought and the Slayer had died. But this time it wasn’t just a Slayer who had fallen in the eternal battle between light and dark, it was his Buffy. Joyce’s daughter, the Bit’s big sis and the Scoobies friend.

He remembered exchanging a brief sorrowful glance with Willie. The little human barkeep had also frozen and paled at the news. The rat-faced bartender tentatively slid a shot glass of tequila over to the shaken vampire and they had silently toasted the Slayer, the girl who had been a pain in both their arses, but who had also earned their respect-- and in the vampire’s case, his heart.

His Slayer.

Buffy.

She was dead.

His heavily booted feet drummed out the three words in his head over and over as he sprinted towards her. It was only recently that he’d realised that he felt something more for the chit than contempt, and now his heart was breaking. A new love that had been torn to shreds by the implacable hands of death before it had a chance to bloom. It had died aborning.

He was too late to save her.

Too late to stop her dying, yet still he ran. His focus was on getting to the morgue – he needed to get there. Splashing through God knew what, Spike ran on, faster than he’d ever pushed his body, desperate to get to the hospital.

Reaching the sewer entrance to the basement, the frantic vampire leapt up, fists clenched above his head and smashed his way through the grate. Spike grasped the edges and pulled himself through and rolled into the dank basement. Stumbling to his feet, Spike shook his hands, ignoring the splatters of his blood from the gashes on his knuckles. He sniffed the air and frowned briefly at the scent of decay. It was old but demonic in origin, however the odour still lingered, surviving the overpowering smell of hospital disinfectant.

He spotted the stairs and charged towards them, tripping over something on his way. Whatever it was it clattered against the cement floor. Spike paused and stared down at his feet in confusion. There was nothing there. He kicked out and heard something clunk against his boot. With a shrug he spun and ran for the stairs and the door, the mysterious noise forgotten in his single-minded obsession to get to his Slayer.

The invisible skeleton of the DerKindersoed lay forgotten on the floor as the door slammed shut behind the frantic vampire, running to the end of his broken heart.

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

“Hey fangless, what are you doing here?”

Spike brushed past Xander, intent on getting to her, to see her one more time before she was buried in Gaia’s depths. He hated the idea of his Golden girl entombed in a satin lined box and buried in the earth; she should be eternal and exalted by all.

A deep growl erupted from the mourning vampire. He ignored the pain of the chip firing as he slapped Xander’s clutching hand away from his shoulder. It didn’t even register that the blow had sent the brunette irritant to the linoleum floor with a yelp; Xander cradled his injured fist against his chest.

Spike sniffed the air again, trying to get a scent trail – anything that would lead him to her. He could smell the dried blood on the git he’d swatted away without a thought. He briefly wondered if the Slayer had been killed defending the Whelp, as per usual. That he’d gotten away with a small wound and his Buffy had lost her life. Spike’s anger was overwhelming him and his thoughts were running riot. He looked down at Xander’s huddled form with murder in his eyes.

“Hey! Spike, stop it.” Willow stared in fright at Spike’s partially vamped face. His eyes were a curious amalgam of gold and azure while his forehead was slightly distorted and his fangs were worrying his lower lip, thin trickles of blood anointing his pallid skin. He looked alien to her as she crouched next to Xander’s slumped form. It looked like he’d been frozen mid-change. But what weirded her out even more was the whimpers that erupted from the vampire’s throat. She helped Xander up, her eyes never leaving Spike’s tense form, which was swaying as he tried to find something. His feral behaviour and the sniffing of the air were really starting to freak her out.

Spike’s eyes darted around the waiting room and he inhaled deeply, futilely trying to find a trace of her perfume. He could taste her in the air, her and the Nibblet, and his shoulders slumped slightly, realising that the Bit would need tending to. He couldn’t walk into the sun – not yet. Not with the baby Slayer needing someone to look out for her now that her big sis was gone.

“Spike?” Tara’s soft voice registered faintly on his consciousness and his gold-flecked eyes flicked slightly in her direction. “Are you okay?” She was taken aback by the grief that suffused his aura; his rigid form was emanating utter despair and it was overwhelming to her. She steadied herself against the wall, her palm clammy with sweat, her other hand clutched at her roiling stomach. “I know…It’s awful…but we have to be strong. They’ll need us all,” she whispered.

“Where?” he growled, ignoring her compassionate expression and soft words. All he wanted to do was be with the Slayer and sod her friends.

“Get gone, Spikey. You’re not wanted here. See the sign? Friends and family only,” Xander sniped cruelly as he pointed. His jealously towards the blond vampire overshadowed everything and made him ignore the situation and place as he sneered at the grief-ridden vampire.

Willow gasped at his cruelty; it was unwarranted in this situation. Her thin hand whipped out and before she knew what she had done, Xander was holding his reddened cheek and staring at her accusingly. “Not now, Xander – not with what’s happened…” She flushed red and then looked imploringly at Tara, not wanting to see the recriminations in Xander’s angry eyes.

“That way – they’re all in there,” Anya interrupted, for once acutely aware about the undercurrents that were boiling up around her. She pointed to the corridor that ran behind her and the others.

She stared fascinated at the partially vamped face that was glowering down at her. Anya hadn’t seen anything like that in her entire mortal or demonic existence. The confused girl could sense his utter despair and wanted to soothe him, but had no idea how, now that she was a mortal.

If she had still been a demon then she’d have screwed him cross-eyed and then sent him on his way. For demons, sex was a cure-all for what ailed you. But mortals were so stuffy about that kind of emotional expression and nurturing, so she had no idea how to calm down the distraught master vampire. He wore his heart on his sleeve and let reign to his emotions. As most vampires did, letting the rage or lust overwhelm them. But of all the cadres of vampires that roamed this dimension and walked in other worlds, Anya knew that Aurelians were known for their emotionality--Spike more so than the others of his clan.

Reaching over she patted him on the arm. She pushed him gently in the right direction, with a rueful pout. It would’ve been interesting to see what he was packing in those tight jeans. From what she could tell it’d probably put Xander to shame. Shaking her head, Anya suppressed the inappropriate lusty Spike inspired thoughts and turned to help Xander.

Spike looked over his shoulder at Anya and nodded his thanks. With a burst of speed he disappeared through the exit, leaving the ex-demoness to cope with the angry exclamations that were thrown at her from her boyfriend and Willow. Tara took a few steps after Spike, wondering why he was so upset by Joyce’s death and worried about what he’d do in his grief. She was intrigued as to how the agitated vampire had heard the news of Joyce’s death and how he’d gotten to the hospital so quickly.

The fair-haired Wiccan’s forehead creased into a slight frown when she spotted a flicker of green light around the edges of Spike’s aura as he skidded around a corner and disappeared out of her sight.

Something big was about to happen, something that would change all their lives.

She could see it in his aura and it didn’t bode well.

She turned to the others with a panicked expression on her normally placid face. “Guys, something is really wrong.”

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

Spike rounded the corner and glanced over at the door marked ‘Women’ and dismissed it immediately. Instead, his focus turned to the double doors ahead marked ‘Authorised Personnel Only’. He pushed it open and started down the dimly lit corridor. His heart ached with each step he took, taking him closer to the corpse of his Slayer. He ran his shaking hands over his hair, trying to tame the curls that had sprouted during his dash to the hospital. He wanted to be as presentable as he could be for her.

Spike stumbled slightly at the sound of a faint scream, and then sped up, sprinting towards the morgue doors. Stopping, he looked in and stared in shock at the unexpected tableau. He froze for one fatal second, the surprise and utter elation that filled his unbeating heart at seeing the Slayer alive stalling him for those vital moments that she needed him for. Then he saw its fangs descending into her vunerable neck. Fear suffused his entire being. His hand slipped on the door handle as he scrabbled at it as he watched the events beginning to unfold through the glass.

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

Buffy ran up behind the newly risen vampire that had been left in the morgue by his sire. She grabbed him from behind, locking her forearm around his neck, grunting as she yanked the fledgling away from her sister’s exposed throat. She struggled briefly with him, grief and exhaustion sapping her strength. The vampire surged up and knocked her to the ground. Swatting her away with barely a thought, his focus was on the luscious teen. Her sweet blood called to him, making his mouth water in anticipation. Buffy’s head hit the floor with a sickening crack and her eyes blurred with pain. All she could hear was Dawn struggling against her attacker and then a flash of black.

“Get off me!” Dawn shrieked as the vampire grabbed her long hair and yanked her against his naked body. He ran one hand between the struggling teen’s full breasts-- pausing for an appreciative squeeze-- and then pulled her wriggling ass against his burgeoning erection. Groaning happily, he let her buttocks rub against his half-hard cock. He wrapped his other hand around her hair and with little finesse, pulled her head to once side, nearly snapping her neck in the process, and sank his fangs into her throat. He moaned blissfully as her powerful blood gushed down his throat. He shook his head and tore the wound violently open, allowing for more of his first victim’s blood to flood his dead system. He rocked his hips against hers as his hand slid down and cupped her mound. His fingers dug in cruelly as he drank deeply.

Dawn felt her body weakening with each pull on her neck. She gripped his forearm, trying to pull it away from her throat. Black spots danced in front of her eyes as she ran out of oxygen. She could feel her legs going numb as her blood was sucked out of her veins

“Buff…y,” she gasped as her heart began to slow.

Dimly Dawn heard someone yelling ‘no’ and a crash behind her as the doors swung open. Dawn’s head began to feel too heavy for her neck; her fingers loosened and dropped weakly at her sides. She wanted to fight him—but she was too feeble. She wanted to get his disgusting hands off her body, but he was too strong for her.

Her eyes fluttered open and her blue tear-filled eyes focused on her mom. The sheet covering her had slipped as they had struggled and she could see her face. She looked like she was asleep; Dawn feebly raised one hand trying to reach her — to wake her up, knowing her mom could make everything better. Dawn’s legs gave up their battle and slipped out from under her and she hung loosely in her captor’s arms. Vaguely, Dawn felt one of her feet brush against her sister’s unconscious form. As her eyes fluttered shut, a small smile graced her lips; she’d see her mom real soon.

"No!" Spike kicked open the doors and leapt towards the vampire that had attacked his girls. He launched himself at the pervert that was dry humping and draining the little Bit and managed to yank him off the teen. With a growl he ripped its shoulder out of its socket. The newly risen fledge was no match for an incensed master vampire who's surrogate family were in danger. Being newly risen it was a feeling inherent to his existence.

Dawn stumbled forward and then fell onto her mother’s body. She lay there limply as the two vampires battled behind her. Spike doubled over as the vampire punched him in the stomach and he lost his grip on the bastard who had hurt his girls. He reached for the fledge and tried to rip his head off. Spike, intent on his battle, failed to notice Dawn’s faltering heartbeat or the Slayer. At least not until he tripped over her and landed awkwardly on his backside, watching dumbly as the vampire reset his dislocated shoulder.

Dawn had fallen facing her mommy’s face. The faltering teen managed to raise one of her arms, though it felt too heavy, and reached out to touch her cheek. It was cold and rigid, but Dawn felt comfortable touching the corpse. It was her mom and she loved her. It didn’t matter that her skin felt like cool marble. Drawing comfort from the contact, Dawn sighed and let her weak body slump.

Knowing that her mother wouldn’t let her fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike growled as he bent down and gently shoved the Slayer’s limp form safely under a gurney, clearing the floor for the fight. He spun on his heel and attacked the vampire with a fervour he had not felt in decades. His family was threatened and it was war. Spike’s fists were a blur as he punched the bastard over and over. Making sure that each blow counted. Spike bobbed on the balls of his feet and then spun around with a roundhouse kick. His heavy boot caught the vampire in the chest and sent him flying backwards. The enemy stumbled, bare feet slapping on the tiled floor, crimson stained lips snarling at his attacker.

“Nancy boy -- come on, fight me!” Spike snarled and lunged at the vamp, pounding him in the face over and over. “Wot the?” Spike growled as he was pushed off as easily as if the vampire were swatting a fly and went flying across the room. Shaking his head, the blond vampire pushed away from the wall and tried to stop himself from stumbling.

“What are you?” Spike grunted as his attacker hit him in the gut. It reminded him of the time he’d gotten wasted and challenged a herd of Chiarago demons to punch him in the stomach. He’d been showboating for Dru in Mexico, trying to garner her interest again. It had ended with him curled up in the foetal position on a filthy bar floor, coughing up blood and wondering how long his spleen would take to regenerate. All whilst Dru had buggered off with the largest of the Chiaragos.

“Vampire. What are you?” his opponent snarled, unaware that the blood from his first victim was infusing him with a power unheard of in the vampiric world.

“Same.” Spike cracked his neck and let his face finish shifting. He felt the familiar grind and crunch as his nose wrinkled and the flesh on his face tightened into familiar lines. His fangs extended and he roared a challenge at the fledge. The two vampires slammed into each other as they clashed, their bodies knocking into a table and sending medical implements showering to the floor. As they struggled, Spike reached for the vampire’s face, trying to dig his fingers into the other’s eyes. Failing to blind the vampire, Spike powered his knee into the vampire’s groin, making contact with a satisfied snarl.

They both spun and fell, Spike landing on top of the newly turned vampire. Reaching under his duster, he searched for the stake he’d shoved in the waistband of his jeans. Before his questing fingers could locate the weapon, he lurched sideways. As his opponent twisted under him, Spike retaliated and punched the vampire in the prominent lumpies as they rolled over and over, coming to a halt next to Buffy.

Buffy moaned as they jostled against her and her hazel eyes flickered open. Reaching up she managed to grasp one of the vampire’s arms and hold him still. Her slender fingers tightened and crushed his wrist bones as she stared in disbelief at Dawn’s slumped form.

“My sister – you bit her,” she exclaimed angrily.

“She was just so tasty and her body… What a peach, all lush and soft and just begging to be plucked and fu…”

Spike growled and grabbed a medical instrument that resembled a short saw. It lay glinting on the floor and he swung it at his opponent’s throat, determined to shut his filthy mouth up for once and for all.

Before Buffy could react or even move, she was covered in a shower of dust, Dawn’s attacker scattered to the wind. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling with a small frown and then rolled to face her and Dawn’s saviour.

A pale hand reached down and she took it without hesitation. He’d saved her and Dawn when she hadn’t been strong enough. “Spike…thank you,” Buffy whispered as she swayed slightly. She felt his strong hands cup her shoulders and steady her. His hands slid down her body and came to rest on her slender waist, unconsciously Spike’s fingers flexed as his thumbs caressed her. Both of the warriors were unaware of their actions-- both still too numb in their anguish and fear.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, Buffy looked up at Spike with tear filled eyes. She felt unable to smile at him; her heart was aching and beaten to a pulp. Her mom was dead and now she had no one to look after her. She shivered slightly, for once letting the Slayer in her subside and allowing the fear of the scared child within her clamour to the fore. Her slim form shook with the terror that was running riot through her and Buffy swayed a little in Spike’s protective embrace. She unconsciously drew comfort and strength from her former mortal enemy.

"Sorry, pet. I'll let you and Nib pay your respects." Spike backed away, fully intent on leaving the two girls to their mourning in peace. His initial reaction to come to them was lost in a flurry of embarrassment and discomfort. Fists and fangs he could do, but comforting he had no idea how to begin.

Spike could feel the ache through his body from the run there and the pummelling the vamp had just given him. He had no idea what to do or say. He dealt in death. He didn’t know how to comfort the bereaved, as he was usually the one who was the cause of their grief.

He’d been about to start in a High Stakes Kitten poker game when he’d heard, instead he’d dumped the basket of Russian Blues he’d liberated from their breeder on his partner, a floppy skinned demon and shot out into the bar to confirm what his vampiric hearing had picked up through the door.

All through his frantic run all he could think of was that Buffy was dead.

But it was worse -- Joyce was dead, leaving his Slayer vunerable and emotionally wounded.

As a vampire he had dealt death out with no regard for race, sex, age or gender for his victims. Never considered that it was a brother or a mother that he was killing. They had been food or something to play with till they screamed.

But now they were friends and surrogate families, their fragile hearts counting down to their deaths. Slowly he was learning that mortals were to be cherished, cared for and loved. He ducked his head and glanced over at Buffy through his thick lashes. He ached to comfort her but didn’t know how his fumbled attempts would be accepted.

He turned and slowly headed for the doors, so intent on escaping the room that reeked of death that he failed to notice the absence of a heartbeat. He was delighted that the Slayer was still alive, but at the same time felt devastated that Joyce was gone.

“Dawn?” Buffy’s questioning voice was filled with horror. Spike froze in his tracks. A prickle of fear ran up his spine as the hairs on the back of his neck rose at the sound of his Slayer’s small voice. “Dawnie…wake up. Come on, I need you. Please wake up. You’re all I have left.”

Spike reluctantly turned towards the sight of his Slayer tugging her sister’s still form into her arms and sinking to the floor.

“Dawnie…wake up now…it’s time to go…” Buffy’s voice took on a childlike lilt as she rocked back and forth, clutching her sister’s dead body to her chest. She crooned childishly as she smoothed her younger sister’s brown hair off her pale face. “Where'd she go, Spike? I don’t understand. She was okay, you saved her.”

“No.” Spike slid across the floor and knelt down next to the two sisters. His hand shook as he gently pushed Dawn’s hair away from her neck and stared sightlessly at the two puncture wounds on her ashen throat. The fledgling had drained her dry, not a drop remained in her thin body.

“Christ, no.” Spike’s shoulder’s slumped as his eyes filled with tears

“Spike?”

“Yeah, luv?”

“Wake her up now…I want to take Dawnie home.” Buffy thrust Dawn’s cooling body into Spike’s reluctant arms. He grasped the teen and pulled her away from Buffy’s fluttering hands.

“I can’t do that right now, sweetness. Let’s pop her next to your mum for now, yeah?” Spike stood slowly, carrying the precious burden of the youngest Summers’ body. “Up you get now, Slayer,” he coaxed gently.

“’Kay.” Buffy clamoured to her feet and watched as Spike carefully lay Dawn next to her mother’s body and then covered the two of them with the sheet. “Will they be safe now?” She turned her confused eyes up towards him trustingly as she tenderly stroked her mother and sister’s still faces.

“Yeah love, they will be. Come on, let’s go and find your Watcher and the others. They can help…” He wanted to get her to her friends before acceptance dawned in her heart.

He cautiously took the Slayer’s arm. Sensing her heartbeat accelerating, Spike knew that she was finally accepting that her entire family were gone. They made it as far as the corridor before she collapsed into his aching arms with a harrowing wail. “Not her ... not her ... she's gone, hasn’t she, Spike? Oh god, I failed mom. She told me Dawn was precious to the world and that I had to protect her…I failed mommy…I failed Dawnie. Oh god, I’ve lost them both,” Buffy wept.

“Oh Christ, pet…m’so sorry,” Spike purred anxiously as he held the shuddering form of his beloved Slayer against his unbeating heart and rocked her in his arms.

Buffy clutched at the leather he wore as armour against the world and wailed. Lines of pure misery etched down the sides of her open mouth, as her sharp fingernails cut into the collar of his duster.

Spike crooned at her and ran his fingers through her soft hair, trying to soothe her as best he could. All he could focus on was that his golden warrioress was broken; death had finally visited her home and torn everyone she held dear to her heart away with merciless hands. He sighed, wishing he could do more for her, but all he had was his bruised and battered heart, his fighting skills and a shoulder to cry on. He hoped it would be enough.

Buffy inhaled Spike’s comforting scents as she cried out her anguish. All she could smell and taste in the back of her mouth was him. His solid body and scent filled her frazzled mind and surprisingly calmed her slightly. She slid her arms up around his neck and hung on for dear life. Trying to anchor herself as the grim reality of her solitude buffeted her. Yes, she had the Scoobies and Giles, but they were friends.

She was alone.

No family to speak of, a father who seemed to think familial obligations were birthday cards a month late and a gift certificate at Christmas. She needed to know that there was someone there for her and not for any other reason than they wanted to care for her. Not like the others who wanted her to be the Slayer who either fought for the cause, or whose presence in their lives added something to their reputations and who offered protection to them by association.

For once she wanted someone for herself, a port in the storm that was her miserable life. She wanted what he’d offered freely to Dru—something the lunatic had thrown back in his face over and over.

Undying love.

A love that a week ago she had blithely thrown back in Spike’s face with a contemptuous laugh. But now… But now she was alone and he was there, offering her everything with his silent presence and she knew he would never leave her. She didn’t want to be alone. Angelus’s words still haunted her all these years later, she was alone now. But his grandchilde was there trying to soothe her.

Taking a deep breath she looked up through tear soaked lashes at his concerned face. Buffy knew that what she was about to do would send the Scoobies into a frenzy and Giles would probably have to buy a new pair of glasses, but she didn’t care. Mom and Dawn were dead, and she was not going to be playing by anyone else’s rules again. Instead of shutting down like she usually did, the troubled Slayer took a deep breath and changed her fate with a decisive nod.

“Slayer?” Spike gazed quizzically at her; he couldn’t work out what she was thinking. Her hazel eyes were red rimmed but stared up at him with such intensity that he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something was changing and then his brain shut down.

Buffy wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and pulled his unresisting head down to hers. She consumed Spike’s shocked lips with hers. With soft nips and licks Buffy traced his full lower lip with her tongue. Savouring the rich taste of him, Buffy sighed softly as Spike finally reacted and returned her tentative kiss with a deep one of his own.

Unbeknownst to either of the grief stricken blondes something mystical was stirring in the charnel house behind them.

In the dead silence of the morgue, a secret was unfolding. The ashes of the vampire that had drained Dawn of her precious magical blood, the chalky dust that had so recently found its place on the floor began to swirl in a green cloud, slowly reforming under the influence of the magicks of the Key. Small flecks of light swirled in the dust as it slowly reformed into the body of the killer that had drained the fragile teenager’s blood.

Slowly the bones began to knit back together. Sinews grew to cover the pale bones and then muscles overlaid the sinews. Veins filled with a bright emerald green light, then began to pulse as skin began to regenerate. The power of the Key was now infused in the vampire that had destroyed its previous carrier. With a sigh he opened his eyes.

Standing, the vampire stretched and yawned. Turning to look at the still forms of the Summers women, he reached over and ran his fingers through Dawn’s brown locks. Slowly the emerald green bled out of his irises and the whites of his eyes turned the same shade of green.

“Man, I feel fantastic.” He stared at the back of his hand and watched the green light seeping through his veins and gifting him with a power unheard of in the demonic world.

“Time to make the world scream and shake the foundations of heaven and hell.”

TBC

"I can't." Buffy sniffled against his shoulder. Leaning her head against the firm muscles and gathering strength from his presence.

"Can't what love?"

"See them...I don't think. I can't face them...not right now," she whispered against the comforting black leather. She clutched at him, trying to anchor herself in the maelstrom of emotions that buffeted her from all sides. Her family was gone and he was the only constant she wanted in her life now.

"But they're your mates Slayer," Spike ran a nervous hand over her tousled hair, smoothing it. He tried to edge towards the double doors. He glanced over to the small windows, hoping that one of the gits that plagued his unlife were peering through and could come and help him.

As much as he was delighting in holding the object of his affection, part of him worried that she needed more than he could offer. He was used to insane and unable to care for herself in his long gone sire, but this was Buffy. She had just lost her mother and now her sister he was at a complete loss, he was a nurturer by nature -- but her overwhelming grief was too much. Usually he was the cause of the grief not someone who tried to cure it. But for Buffy he would do anything, overcome his demon's natural instincts - change his entire nature if he could.

"Take me away from here please, I need some time before I can face them," Buffy plead. The thought of the Scoobies sympathetic faces and fumbled attempts to comfort her was too much for her to cope with and the moment. She needed some quiet time to lick her wounds and heal. Staring up at Spike Buffy silently begged that he would understand and take her away.

Spike looked down into her red rimmed hazel eyes and her flushed tear stained cheeks and his heart clenched in sympathy. He nodded quietly and pulled her to her feet. Silently he offered his arm to the grieving girl and the two of them walked slowly down the corridor. So caught up in their grief neither of them noticed or sensed the vampire watching them through black shot emerald green eyes.

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

"You think we should go and see where they are?" Xander glanced over at the doors that Buffy had disappeared down. The snacks he and Anya had collected earlier were all consumed and he was starting to wonder what to do.

Willow and Tara exchanged a look and then the slender redhead stood. "I'll go." Tara's words of warning still ringing in her ears the redhead took a breath and slipped away.

Anya cocked her head, her usual ebullience gone with the spectre of death that hung over the small group. She was confused scared and feeling very much alone. Death she understood, something she had offered to her victims for a thousand years, but the grief that her humanity now cursed her with was something the ex-Vengeance demoness had no concept of. Her fumbled attempts to understand and talk about them had been greeted with the usual Xander silence. Her boyfriend as usual, seemed almost embarrassed when she tried to explain her confusion and made no effort to explain or help her understand.

The beginnings of antipathy were budding in her heart and it made her itch, she was alone in this world. Abandoned by all that was familiar to her, Arashmahir was a distant memory and her fellow demons now so far from her
that she wanted to scream and rail against her sudden orphaning.

Her new family treated her like an unexploded bomb; waiting to see what disaster her mouth would spout. Only Tara, Giles and Mrs Summers had treated her normally and for that they would hold a special place in her heart. And now one of them was gone and she left behind her two daughters who Anya vowed to help in the memory of all of Joyce's kindness and compassion. Even if they didn't want it or understand why she offered it.

Anya glanced at the swinging door that the Willow had gone through and sighed, that was one person she could live happily without in her life. Willow hated her with a fire of a thousand suns, Anya was no fool and the jealousy that the redheaded Wiccan tried to suppress was something the sharp witted ex demon had picked up on. She also knew that whomever Xander took to his bed would be treated with the same cruelty and unkindness that Willow treated her with. It was disturbing that a fully-fledged lesbian still wanted her oldest friend. Anya wrung her hands nervously and felt even worse for her unkind thoughts, now was not the time to think about Willow.

But little did she know.

~~~~~~~~

The first one had tasted of innocence, her blood full of an untold power and her fear and added a taste to it that he had savoured. His only regret was that he had not been about to sample the delights hidden between her virginal thighs, but there had been too many distractions.

The blond vampire would die slowly and painfully and as for the other one who had tried to protect her sister. He had plans for her that were making his stolen blood sing in anticipation.

This one tasted so sweet and the power simmering in her untapped depths was something he wanted for his own. But unlike the teen, her blood didn't infuse him with her magicks. So instead he decided to keep her bound to him for all eternity. Biting down hard the newly risen Fledge instinctively began to drain the struggling redhead to the point of death.

His hands deftly stripped her off her clothes and he threw her to the floor. His actions causing his fangs to be torn from her pale throat, and the wound left behind bled copiously. Anointing her pale freckled skin with scarlet ribbons that would become a familiar sight and experience for her.
He stared down admiringly at the weakly struggling slim form pinned beneath him.
Her small breasts shook as she tried to wriggle free; the pale coral nubs that were tightening with her fear and the cold of the morgue made his mouth water in anticipation. He wanted to feast on all her charms for hours, make her scream and bleed until he remade her into a minion that would cower at his feet and do his bidding.

His oddly coloured eyes scanned the rest of her body appreciatively; the sparse red curls on her mound were carefully groomed and framed the juncture of her thighs perfectly. Her soft belly shook with each sobbing breath she took, he reached down and clawed at the white freckled skin. He watched mesmerised at the trails of blood that seeped from the fresh cuts. Leaning down he licked up the precious liquid and then gripping her inner thighs he forced her legs apart. Revealing her soft cleft to his greedy gaze. Sniffing the air around her he laughed this one was covered in the scent of another woman; he was going to enjoy this.

Willow's mouth opened as she tried to scream, but a cold strong hand clamped around her throat and squeezed it tightly, cutting off her air supply. Her captor hovered over her his hard cock seeping precum, her gaze never leaving it, she shook in horror, Willow realised that there was nothing she could do. All her magic spells had abandoned her the moment he had stripped her and thrown her to the cold floor. In its place was a terrified girl lay there defenceless—a sacrificial lamb on the altar of the demon holding her madness.

Her fingers weakly clutched at her attacker and as black spots began to dance in front of her eyes she weakened. Her hands dropped limply to her sides and her muscles started to slack. The green - eyed vampire used his free hand to part her quivering thighs more so he could slide between them and he laid over her, his cock pressing against her.

Willow whimpered and tried to push her hands between her thighs and cover herself in a futile attempt to prevent him raping her. But before she could muster a tenuous defence of her virtue her captor bashed her head hard against to floor. Pain shot down her spine and her tenuous hold on consciousness began to falter.

Dimly she felt his hand move from her throat and down between her legs, his thick fingers pushing into her tight channel using her own blood to lubricate her. Willow sobbed a thin weak hand clutched pathetically at his wrist trying to remove his hand from her.

“Now honey just relax and let me make it sooo good for you,” her soon to be rapist and murderer crooned as he rubbed his seeping erection against her. His hips rocking back and forth, in a motion Willow remembered from happier times with Oz.

“No…no…no…please don’t do this too me…” she wept, mucus pouring from her mouth and into her pleading mouth. Choking her as she begged pathetically for clemency. All she received in answer was a callous laugh and a tearing sensation in her breast as he bent down and sank him fangs into the juddering flesh, almost tearing her nipple off as he shook his head from side to side.

Her last memories of life were the sting of his fangs entering her defenceless throat and the agony of his cock tearing into her channel. Two solitary tears escaped her screwed shut eyes as Willow's chapped pale lips moved only once before she passed out never to wake again as a mortal.

"Tara...baby, please save me."

Chapter 3


In which we have some surprises and a visit from a certain greeneyed vamp who has changed the Scoobies lives.

It was a war that was fought nightly by a few brave but weary souls.

They had been abandoned by their Champion and the Powers had not seen fit to send them another.

So they fought on. They battled in honour of her memory and for the remembrance of those who had fallen. Never once blaming her for leaving, she had lost enough—sacrificed enough and fought long enough. A mother, a sister and also her teenage years to the battle, if they could give her some respite then they would. They were not alone. Others had joined the fight, simple mortals and demons who had no agenda except a good heart and a willingness to do the right thing.

It had been months since they had last seen her, the constant worry and fighting was beginning to wear them down. But they never faltered in their defence of the Hellmouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Xander?"

"Yeah, Ahn." He looked up from the stake he was carving with crosses and gave her a tired grin.

"Can we go home soon? I really don't like the idea of being out too late." She stared over at the shop door and then down at her watch. Ever since the fateful day when Joyce, Dawn and Willow had died, a spark had gone out in her eyes. Guilt coloured her every move as she repetitively wondered if her angry thoughts about Willow were the reason that they were all being punished.

"Honey, you know I need to do a quick run through the cemeteries. You go home now and I'll shut the shop." Xander dropped the stake he was working on into the bucket of Holy Water at his feet. It had been Willie’s idea, the bar owner had become a surprising ally in the fight against darkness. He had provided invaluable information on demonic activities and new arrivals. He had also introduced them to several demons who could provide additional information and weapons. So far none of them had offered to help patrol, but Xander suspected a few might if things got desperate. In all his years fighting with Buffy he had only ever viewed demons as the bad guys and it had been a revelation to him how many were peaceful and benign. As well as several being invaluable with advice on weapon making, the carving with crosses and protective runes had been some wrinkly skinned demon’s suggestion and so far it was working a treat.

Xander notched another protective rune that Tara had taught him into the ebony stake he was carefully carving into a deadly weapon, he was saving that one for the demon who wore his best friend's sweet features. The few times they had come across Willow nowadays a small part of him had hardened, and now he was a very different soul from the innocent goofy boy of a few months ago. He appreciated life a lot more and his love for the twitchy woman in front of him had grown exponentially. His patience with her was now infinite and they had forged stronger bonds between them.

Xander smiled at the glitter of the tiny diamond on her engagement ring as she wrung her hands. He had surprised her with it the other day and her ready acceptance had astonished him even more. She wanted him, no one else, him – the high school clown, the loser –the Zeppo. Her excited acceptance had made him happy and the others who stood with them nightly had been too. It was a spark of light and happiness in the darkness that surrounded them on all sides.

"Xander?" Anya waved a hand in front of his face, drawing him back to the present.

He gave her a lopsided smile, one that was rarely seen these days. "You know how much I love you, right?"

Anya blanched. "Why are you saying that? Are we going to die?" Her voice becoming more and more high pitched with each word uttered.

"You might," a cold voice interjected. "I am feeling kinda hungry and my juicy girl said there might be someone around for me to eat." A frigid wave of terror poured over both the humans in the shop.

Xander’s back straightened at the sight of the elusive vampire that had turned Willow and who they thought killed Dawn—setting in motion the chain events that had tempered them all and revealed hidden aspects of their characters, which most of them could be proud of. The deadly killer had also destroyed their lives and for that he had to pay. Xander stared blankly at the short vampire with dark longish hair and nondescript features. There was nothing exceptional about this vampire, nothing to show the devastation he was causing all over the Hellmouth.

Except…for one thing.

Xander stared at the weirdly coloured eyes of the demon lounging in the doorway of the shop. Both eyeballs were a bright emerald green shot through with pitch-black veins. Something that none of the White Hats had ever seen before. Usually he was hidden away in his lair, delegating the minions to cause mayhem and chaos or, on the odd occasion, he was out he had been wearing dark sunglasses. ‘That can’t be normal…’

All of them had searched for the murderous bastard, but he was always in the background, hidden away from their attempts to locate him. Any spells cast by either Giles, Tara or Anya had been blocked by Willow’s counter spells. Lately, though, Giles had stopped trying to help and had retreated from their day to day lives, the guilt over Buffy’s losses eating away at him. He was a changed man, and not so much for the best.

Before he could do or say anything to the creator of their misery and altered lives, Xander had the shock of his life.

"Get out of my shop!" Anya exclaimed. She reached under the counter and grabbed a small glowing orb and threw it at the greasy haired vamp that was lounging in the doorway. It shattered on his chest and the vampire fell backwards with a howl of anger and pain. As the tiny ball of sunlight was released on the orbs’ impact with his chest, she nodded happily that her and Tara's spell had worked. It was the first chance she had had to test the new weapon in the rapidly growing arsenal and it was good. Though maybe a wee bit more sunlight could be harnessed, her quick mind already examining options and wondering if a larger orb would be needed.

Anya clattered angrily across the shop floor on her high heels, scooping up the bucket that Xander had his stakes soaking in. Skittering to a halt she threw the Holy water over him and slammed the door shut with a flourish and locked it. Both of them ignored the howl of pain from behind the closed door.

"Whoa, Ahn, nice going...but my stakes." Xander rushed over and peered out of the door, one hand lazily tangling in her bright hair as he cuddled her against his shoulder. Anya pressed a kiss to his cheek, her pink lips lingering on the scar that Willow had given him the first night she had re-appeared in their lives and caused havoc, before slinking away to hide behind her Sire.

"Has he gone? Did you see his eyes? We need to research. In all my life I have never seen anything like that…also he didn’t dust…all that Holy water an no poofing?” Anya’s bright eyes glittered with excitement and curiosity.

"Yeah honey, research and mucho debating to come, I’m sure. But for now, come help me collect the stakes and I'll take you home. Or do you wanna come with now you're all with the Holy water slingage?" he teased, pride lighting up his eyes.

Anya stared assesingly at the empty entrance to her shop and down at her shoes. "I will need better shoes to clamber through the graveyards. Maybe Bu…I mean, maybe there is something left in the training room."

"Hey, you can say her name," Xander sighed. "I won't freak out every time."

Anya nodded, deciding that discretion was the better form of valour in this instance and refrained from mentioning the missing Slayer and further before disappearing into the training room. Her bravado from earlier spurred her on with a newfound resolve.

The newly engaged couple disappeared off into the sultry warm night, ready and in parts eager to do their bit to protect the oblivious denizens of the town. Anya’s chirpy voice echoing behind them as they walked down Main Street, wondering if Spike had returned from wherever he had disappeared to.

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

His eyes scanned her naked back appreciatively. The sheet he carefully covered her with earlier had ridden down her smooth skin, exposing it to his eyes. The curve of her hip was making his mouth water. He sighed and reached for the cold bottle that was sweating on the table next to him. Spike took a long drink from it and then cradled it in his calloused hands.

A soft sigh broke his contemplation of the bottle and a rustle of the sheets made him glance over at her. She stirred again and curled up into a tight ball and then stretched out with a little yawn. Spike grinned at the ever so familiar wake up ritual Buffy underwent every night. It had taken very little time for her to adjust her sleep patterns to his.

She was now a veteran napper, curling up like a cat and snoozing whenever she needed it. It had made travelling a lot easier, but slowly her golden tan had faded and her skin had taken on a pale perfection that had made his mouth water. Her long hair was now at her waist and her dark roots were a shocking contrast with the pale gold of the rest of it. But for some reason she had not coloured it, claiming lack of funds and time. But Spike worried that her lack of vanity over her appearance was a manifestation of her grief. A grief he shared and tried so hard to help her through. And slowly they were both getting there.

She had kept them on the move from the night the two of them had left Sunnydale. He had taken her home and watched as she swiftly packed some clothes and mementos of her mother and sister. She had then disappeared into her Mother’s room and reappeared with a file of paperwork. Confused by her actions, Spike had not realised how practical she was being. Buffy'd sold her home within days of leaving despite him begging her to wait.

"Spike?" His Slayer's sleep-soaked voice whispered sweetly across his senses. Making his entire being hum in anticipation of her touch and whispered sighs of pleasure against his skin.

"Right here, love, right here." He rose smoothly and sauntered back to their bed. His nude muscular form was pale in the diffused light of the moon that spilled in through the open French doors of their home. In the distance he could hear the sea pounding against the shore and he felt at peace. Despite all the misery that had been surrounding them for the past few months, he felt content. He had his girl a place to lay his head and a cold beer. What more could a vamp ask for?

A/N okay who was surprised by my lack of Xander bashing?? As you know am not the greatest fan of the git *grins* but I figured I better be nice so in this fic Xander might just be a hero! Hope you enjoyed?

"What the hell is going on?" Buffy threw a folded magazine at Spike's sleeping head with a growl.

"Wot? Where...pet ...wot's got your pretty lil'knickers in a twist now?" He rolled over and reached for the paper. He scanned the headlines with a frown. Nothing there of importance unless you counted the latest Hollyweird couple of the moment splitting up. He scanned the first few pages of the gossip rag his Slayer seemed addicted to. "What am I looking for Slayer?"

Buffy grunted something that sounded like ‘page ten’ at him and then stomped off onto the veranda of their small beach house. She leaned against the railing and stared out at the sun setting over the sea. The small waves were awash with the crimson glow of the burning orb as it slowly descended beyond her eye line.

She slipped through the small gate and sank gracefully down onto the sun-warmed sand, curling her toes into the fine grains. Buffy sighed, knowing that their idyll here in the sleepy coastal town they had moved into was almost over. If that bogus 'I saw an alien in Sunnydale' article was anything to go by, then the vamp that had killed Dawnie was not dust, and that freaked her.

Buffy pressed her hand to her stomach and rode out the all so familiar pang of pain evoked by her sister's death. She frowned down at her pale slender feet. He was dust; she knew it. But someone had seen him. The description of the green eyes was too much of a coincidence. A chill of fear ran through her.

The two of them had slowly found their way to this sleepy town perched on the bay, and had used some of the money from the sale of her mom's house to buy the beach house. It was a pretty building with a veranda skirting around it on all sides and painted white with bright blue shutters. Inside there were two bedrooms and bathrooms, the other usual amenities and the added bonus of a massive living area that looked out over the ocean. Neither of them had ever thought they would make a home together, but they had. Slowly they became more than grieving friends, the barriers of vampire and slayer fell away and all that was left was Spike and Buffy.

She had left Sunnydale thinking that the vampire was dusted and that with her absence in their lives, Willow and the others would be safe, no longer pulled into the craziness. She had hoped that her friends would either stop slaying, move on with their lives or carry on, but it was down to them and not forced on them by her presence in their lives. It was their choice either way, and she had hoped that they had chosen the former. She had comforted herself with the idea that Willow and Tara had carried on studying, Xander and Anya were dating and bickering, and Giles… Giles was either back in England retired, or running the Magic Box with Anya. Her happy imaginings had helped her move on and heal. Mourn her mom and Dawnie and slowly build a new life with the peroxided menace that was now stomping out to join her on the beach.

She didn't want this. Buffy sighed. She had made a promise to herself, once she had resurfaced from the grief of Dawn's murder and her mom's death. She was done, out, finished. It had been five months since that fateful day in the morgue when Buffy's life had shattered into smithereens, and the months of grieving and slowly putting herself back together had been made easier by the presence of Spike.

Her full lips turned up at the corners at the memories of their nights and days spent together. Learning each others moods, likes and dislikes. It hadn't all been easy. It had taken some time for the ingrained knee jerk reactions of years to fade. Yes, he was a vampire. But no, she didn't have to automatically hate him because her friends and Watcher silently demanded it from her. Slowly Buffy had learned that there was more to Spike than attitude and a pair of fangs.

They had made their way slowly down the coast, travelling through LA as fast as they could, totally unwilling to risk a meeting with Angel. Neither of them could face his pithy attempts of comfort or his anger over Spike's presence in Buffy's life. Instead, they had headed south and found a place to call home. Somewhere to just stop and be Buffy -- not the Slayer, just Buffy. Somewhere to heal and recover from life's vicissitudes and trials.

All of which had been achieved with the help of the muttering vampire that was stomping on the deck behind her. She had never realised the depth of love she could feel for another being, not after her heart had been broken so many times. By her parents divorce, her father's abandonment of her, her mom and Dawnie's death, and last and defiantly least, Angel. Her full mouth made a moue of disgust at the thought of her so-called first love.

"That J-Lo's arse seems to be getting bigger every time I see a piccie of her. A bloke could park a sodding bike up there." Spike's voice pulled her from her maudlin memories of Angel.

Buffy smiled up at Spike, her hazel eyes taking in the rumpled ‘I just crawled outta bed’ curls. He looked cute and bonus for her, he was hers. She eyed his pale muscled chest as he paced back and forth and licked her lips. Then his less than gentlemanly comment registered. "Eww…Spike that is totally gross." She wrinkled her nose at him and made gagging noises.

He flopped down on the pale sand next to her and tucked his hands behind his head. Buffy watched the play of muscles under his pale skin and her mouth watered slightly. Shaking her head, she picked up the Enquirer and flipped through the pages until she got to the article she had come across by chance. A faint frown appeared between her brows as she studied the article again, trying to glean more information from the pithy words.

Spike's all too perceptive eyes were focused on her lower lip, which she was chewing to bits. He reached over with a sand covered foot and gently nudged her calf. "Oi, less with the biting, that's my job." He smirked at her as he watched her free hand unconsciously trace over the bite marks that he had placed over the two older sets, completely obliterating them.

"Spike...I...we—"

"I know, love, but we don't know for sure that's the gospel truth. It's a gossip rag, for Christ sakes, no need get wound up about it until you have to." Spike pulled the offending article from her clutching fingers and tossed it onto the deck behind them. "Come're." He coaxed her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Inhaling deeply, he soaked in her scent and nuzzled his nose into her hair.

Great big fat tears poured down her face as Buffy leant back against his chest and sighed. Snuffling loudly, she reached up and wiped her face dry on the back of her hand, the other wrapped tightly around Spike's forearm. "You'da thunk I'd cried myself out by now," she sniffled again.

Spike chuckled, the vibrations in his chest warming her heart. "One thing I've learned over the decades is that there's always enough water in a bird for one more good cry...now the snot issue I can do without." He ducked his head as Buffy reached behind her and gave him a gentle slap. "Ow, mind the noggin."

"If it's him, I want to go back and make sure he stays dusted," Buffy mumbled.

"We will. Wot I don't get is how he reformed. Never heard of a vamp coming back from hell." Spike nudged Buffy off his lap and then helped her stand, dusting off the clinging motes of sand from her legs and then offering her his arm in a curious old world way that he was prone to doing.

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

"It's getting harder every night. I can't keep going out there alone." Xander rocked on his heels and clutched the phone tightly in his fist. This was the one call he had hoped to avoid, but desperate times lead to desperate measures. “I need some back up. I can’t watch anyone else I care for die. You have to send some help.”

He stood with his back to the shop, acutely aware that he was being watched by the two girls he wanted to protect more than anything, Anya and Tara, they relied on him for muscle and he needed to find more. Giles had become a lost cause and so he had turned for help to the last place he had ever expected to, and the weird thing was, they had said yes.

His shoulders slumped in relief. They would send help, on the next available flight. Quietly thanking the man he had never expected to turn to for help, Xander placed the receiver back on the cradle and turned with a smile to face the two women.

"They're sending help?" Anya asked, anxiety colouring her voice. Her face was black and blue from the demon who had hit her on patrol the night, before but she held her chin up defiantly.

Xander sank down next to his girl with a sigh of relief. "Yeah, he said they'd send over some muscle and a guy to help out with the research."

"What about Buffy. Did he ask about her?" Tara 's voice was sombre and muted.

"Nope, already knew she was MIA, which is kinda wig worthy. Makes you wonder if they have spies in town." Xander toyed with Anya's fingers, his work-roughened digits spinning her engagement ring on her thin finger.

Tara 's face hardened swiftly into all too familiar lines of anger for the other two and she sat up straight in her chair, muttering an incantation under her breath. Anya eyed her warily, worried that the magic she was calling on would be a shade too dark for Tara . Xander stood and began to pace back and forth between the research table and where the phone hung on the wall.

Ever since Willow had been turned, Tara had become the magical focus of the group left defending the Hellmouth. She had gone from the shy retiring mother earth type, to the angry vengeful Wiccan who was determined to rain hell on the heads of the ones who tormented them all.

“Jeez!” Xander leapt away from the phone as the receiver emitted a dark black smoke as a small bug exploded. All over the shop were similar explosions, Tara ’s eyes beginning to turn an opaque grey as she pulled on her magical reserves to destroy any magical or mechanical methods of spying.

“Hey, my stock!” Anya exclaimed and began to rush around the shop, checking each item that had formerly carried a bug in it. She turned to Xander, “We need to get the apartment checked, you ask her.”

“I’ll come home with you and check the place out, don’t worry Anya.” Tara ’s eyes shifted back to their normal colour as she swayed slightly, trying to regain her equilibrium.

“Thanks,” Anya stared worriedly over at the once shy and retiring Wiccan who had, since the moment that they had discovered Willow ’s vamping, changed into a stronger and more assertive magic user. Grief had guided her steps down a path she and the others had never envisaged for her. She was slowly surpassing Willow in magical acumen and strength and was becoming a force to be reckoned with.

“No p…problem.” Tara picked up the next of Giles’s journals that Anya had liberated from his flat and began to read. The three of them were on a mission. One that she hoped might at least bring back part of her Willowtree. Tara sighed, praying to all the deities she knew for help. She had to find the spell. If not then -- then she would join her lover in death. It was too hard to carry on without her. Maybe their souls would find each other.

"This sucks."

"What, the waiting?" Spike rolled onto his side and looked up at the petulant beauty that stood above him with her hands planted on her hips. His heart leapt at the teasing twinkle in her eyes and he smiled at her. In the last week since reading the stupid article in the Enquirer, she’d undergone a transformation. Her honey blonde hair was back and she’d taken to sunning herself daily, slowly regaining her bronzed tan.

She had also taken to nagging him about his contact and whether there was any information. He knew that it wasn’t that she wanted to return to the Hellmouth. She’d announced that in not uncertain terms as she rode him into submission the first night. She was home and all she had wanted to do was leave no loose ends. Her whispered promise of forever against his panting mouth had filled him with warmth and security. He understood the reasons for them having to return to Sunnydale and accepted that if it were necessary, then they would be a united front against enemies and friends. They would kill the scum that had taken Dawn from them and leave without a backward glance. So her demands for information never worried him, they were just an extension of her slayer needing action and nothing more.

"Yeah."

Buffy stared down at her lover, a mixture of lust and poutiness on her face. As much as she didn’t want to return to Sunnydale, to the scene of where her family had been ripped from her, she knew deep down that she had a responsibility to ensure that the monster that had taken Dawn from her was truly dead. The article in the Enquirer had freaked her out; they had both seen the vamp dust, so reports of green-eyed monsters in her old hometown were not of the good in her book. If the journalist was right, then she had to go back and destroy the vampire, otherwise she would lose the newfound peace of mind that she and Spike had achieved here in their new home.

"Well, we both agreed that it was best to if we sussed out the situ in Sunnyhell before we headed off back there and find out that we're not needed." Spike flopped onto his back and checked the angle of the sun. He glanced up at the awning he'd fitted a week ago and nodded, it had been a good idea. His golden minx had turned pale in her determination to stay with him, this way they had the best of both worlds he could loll around on the veranda and she could get some sun on her pale body. He eyed her now, the gold hued vision in front of him and sighed. She was a vision of sun bronzed skin and slender curves. The gaunt look she had worn had slowly dissipated as he fed her up on cakes and any fattening food he could slip into her mouth.

“Yeah yeah, I know, but the waiting is driving me nuts. What did your poker buddy say last time you called?”

“Nothing much, luv, you know that. You were standing right next to me to be earwigging the entire convo.”

Buffy flopped down on the sunlounger and prodded his supine form with a pointy finger. “Call him again,” she demanded.

“Bossy bint, would think you wanna get back to the stink-hole right sharpish the way you’re acting,” Spike grumbled, capturing insistent finger and slipped it into his mouth. His pupils dilated at the taste of her sun warmed finger as his cool tongue wrapped around the succulent digit and suckled on it.

“Spike, quit with the sexy distractions!” Buffy moaned as he began to nibble her wrist, his fingers gently holding her hand as he lathed her pulse point, watching carefully as she swayed under his sensuous assault.

Spike trailed his tongue up her arm, pressing alternating kisses and nips as he reached her inner elbow and the with a purr, sank his fangs into her soft skin and supped at her blood briefly before moving onwards and upwards to her shoulders and throat. He chuckled at her gasp of pleasure at the stinging sensation of his incisors piercing her willing skin. He glanced up at her face and their gazes locked as he brushed a kiss over her shoulder.

“Spike…Hellmouthy stuff, call buddy…ohhh yes,” she hissed as he nipped at her collarbone and then soothed the reddened area with his tongue.

He chuckled at how easy she was when he got a bit nibbly near her throat, then sat up and captured her face in his hands. Spike stared down at her face, his fingers curled into her damp hair and tugged her towards his waiting lips. “Kiss me, love,” he murmured as she parted her lips with a soft sigh. She leaned forward and caught his bloodstained lips with hers. Her tongue traced around the firm edges, dipping in and out of his panting mouth as she teased him. Her hands lay on his torso, fingernails scraping his pecs and kneading the firm muscles that rippled with every kittenish touch.

Spike sighed and let her pink tongue slip back into his mouth to toy with his fangs. His hands slipped from her face and curved around her slender back, searching for the ties of her pale green bikini. He tugged them loose in seconds and let her full breasts drop into his waiting hands.

“Hmmm, maybe we should take this inside?” she suggested in a husky whimper. “Don’t wanna freak out the neighbours,” Buffy whispered against his pouting swollen lips as she covered his squeezing hands with hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Love you all warm from the sun,” Spike murmured against her back as he ran his tongue down her spine, tasting the salty tang of her skin. His hands were busy on her side, dipping around and under her wriggling body and teasing her nipples with his fingers. Buffy grunted and buried her face in the pillow. She rocked her hips against the mattress when Spike pinched her aching peaks into hard points, his fingers unrelenting as they teased and tormented her breasts.

“Spiiike,” she wailed into the cotton cover and spread her legs as wide as she could, trying to entice his mouth downwards.

Spike sat up between her spread legs and gently smacked her undulating backside. He grinned as she groaned and watched her skin redden under the skimpy fabric that was stretched over her peach-shaped bottom. “Minx, wait until I am done.” He pressed the palm of his right hand down in the small of her back and watched as she wriggled around, trying to ease her burgeoning excitement. Her hands reached blindly behind her trying to reach him, to entice him into touching her in all the right places.

“Oh please, Spike. I need more. I need you—” She moaned and wriggled some more, hoping to tease him into pulling off her soaked bikini bottoms and sinking into her saturated depths. She’d had enough foreplay and wanted to get to the main course. Her desperation made her whine into the pillow and press her palms flat on the mattress to try and push up.

“Oi.” Spike smacked her again on the backside. “All in good time! I think we’re going to have to deal with this naughtiness.”

Buffy nodded frantically, “yes we do, we really do!” and arched her back, pushing her hips up as high as she could in her face down position. Hoping that the scent of her would overwhelm his defences and Spike would pound her into the mattress. She curled her legs around his thighs as he knelt up, and tried to wriggle backwards until her pussy was pressed against one of his knees, but his firm hand on her back kept her still.

“Right, that’s it,” Spike grumbled and before she could move he was over her in a flash. There was a clinking sound as he rummaged along the wrought iron headboard searching for something. Buffy turned her head and tried to catch his eye, but his torso was over her hand and she couldn’t see anything but rippling abs. “There we go.” With that Buffy felt his hand grab her wrists and pull them over her head.

Snap…

“Hey! No fair. It was supposed to be your turn the next time we played bondage fun.” Buffy yelped as the familiar cool grip of their handcuffs tightened around her slender wrists, anchoring her to the headboard.

“Told you to be a good girl,” Spike chuckled as he ran his fingers lightly down her stretched arms and tickled her at the armpits. He watched as she lurched from side to side, trying to evade his merciless teasing. His hands then continued down her silky sides and tickled the edges of her breasts before moving to her slightly reddened bottom, two pink handprints from where he had smacked her contrasting with the bronze of her skin. It had been pure chance running into the drunken surgeon who had been in hiding in the small village down the coast from them. He had escaped the Initiative when Buffy and the others had stormed it and destroyed Adam and had been on the run ever since. It had taken a handful of cash and a mild threat from Buffy, but the doctor had caved and taken out the chip. Spike had been unleashed and yet had been a good puppy ever since—for love.

He’d never abused the trust that the she’d given him. His demon was content with the Slayer and bided by her rules. No biting the innocents of the world and he had acquiesced without hesitation. Perfect! Spike rubbed the reddened areas and smirked as she squeaked and groaned. He had never expected to be freed from the chip and then had also never considered the reasons why he’d lost interest in draining mortals for food. Instead, he continued to bag it and the vixen that was splayed before him occasionally supplemented his diet during their love play. Her blood satiated anything his demon ever wanted from its victims.

“Sweet morsel, I could eat you all up,” Spike purred as his hand settled on her inner thighs and flexed, bruising her soft skin with his grip. It was the one thing above all others he appreciated, to be able to make love to her with everything he was and not worry about being zapped in the noggin.

She felt her blood rush to her core, her labia swelling in excitement and her clit tightening and hardening in anticipation of his talented attentions. She let her thighs drop apart and curved her back cat-like, offering herself to him. Spike stared down at the soaked gusset of her bikini, his mouth watering in anticipation of her hidden secrets that were coated in her juices. He ran a finger along the edge of the green cotton; he slid a finger under the flimsy material and ran it along her slit. Buffy was delirious with need, his tormenting of her was driving her insane. Her brain shut down and her body became a conductor of all her sexual energies and she panted as Spike’s finger teased around her inner lips. .

Deciding that he wanted to see all of her, Spike hooked his finger into the wet fabric and ripped it off. “Ow,” Buffy squeaked and then realised that finally he’d revealed her cleft to his hungry gaze. She licked her lips and waited to see what her vampire had planned for her. She loved it when he cuffed her to the headboard—even though he knew she could easily pull free, but trusting her to let him play and surrendering herself to his control. She grinned wickedly, remembering all the times he trusted her and let her chain him down and explore his willing body.

“So pretty and wet, all for me?” Spike asked as he sank down and brushed a kiss over her smooth nether lips. She’d surprised him with the waxed smoothness the other day and he adored it. They were baby soft and anointed with her fragrant excitement. He slipped his hands under her and used his thumbs to spread her lips and expose her to his eyes and mouth. He pursed his lips and blew a cool stream of air over her clenching opening and then bent forward and caught her clit in his teeth, tugging gently.

Keeping her in a state of arousal by combining pain and pleasure with expert finesse, Spike played her body until it vibrated with uncontained passion. He watched as her clit darkened with blood and began to twitch in anticipation of his lips. He chuckled and then let his thumbs move downwards, pressing on either side of her nub and began to torment her with the pressure. His mouth was busy on her backside, biting and licking the soft mounts before dipping down between her willing thighs. With unerring accuracy he latched onto her clit and bit it hard. His hands keep her writhing form still. Buffy’s wrists reddened as she twisted her hands and strained her whole body under his relentless onslaught.

“Taste like peaches and cream, love, can’t get enough of you.” He growled and vamped out, his fangs nicking her swollen labia and letting minute drops of blood mingle with her juice. Buffy shrieked. Her hips rocked as he thrust his tongue into her and began to wriggle it deep inside her tight passage. Pushing her over the edge, she raised her head from the pillow and screamed out her orgasm with a long animalistic moan. Her hips rocked her quim against his devouring mouth, drawing out her bliss for as long as she could, silently thanking god that he didn’t need to breath.

“Spike, I need you inside me now, please.” She managed to lever herself onto her knees and looked over her shoulder, her face flushed with spent arousal. Her hazel eyes were begging for more as she spread her legs and let his dazed eyes alight on her dew and blood-slicked cleft. Spike gulped at the sight of her quivering inner thighs and her dew soaked skin. All he could smell was her and he wanted more, he wanted his cock sheathed inside her as she screamed and moaned. He wanted her muscles to squeeze him until he popped and howled out his love for her.

“Bloody siren, you are,” he muttered as he rose to his knees behind her. Buffy giggled, braced her legs far apart and wriggled her hips from side to side to tease him some more. Her neglected breasts swung freely and her nipples crinkled tight. Spike placed a steadying hand on her hip, the other hand idly pumping his cock. He was aching to be inside her scorching hot satiny depths, churning her juices with his hardness. All his being screamed at him to stop the teasing but the demon inside him wanted to draw out the fun.

“Good things come to those who wait,” he growled and then curved his body over her sweating back. His hand reaching under her and sighing in contentment when her needy breasts dropped into his palms. He kissed the nape of her neck as his cock nestled against her heated core, the blunt head of it pressing into the cleft of her backside as he rocked his hips back and forth. The base of his cock pressing up against her nub sent shocks of electricity from her clit to her womb and then up to her swollen breasts. He tugged hard on her nipples and then twisted them gently with his dextrous fingers. The pale skin surrounding her rosy nipples was beginning to flush a deep red from her excitement and the pain his fingers were creating. Spike’s ravenous mouth was busy on her sweating neck, sucking hard and bruising her. Fangs scraped red lines and then soothed them with his tongue. Buffy gritted her teeth and let her head drop down as she slowly climbed back up to nirvana. Her body was flushed red under the bronze tan and sweat, coating them both as her side heaved with each breath.

Buffy panted and moaned as she writhed against his cock, desperate for him to slip inside her. Little grunts escaped her open mouth as her arms quivered under the strain of holding them both up. The handcuffs dug into her wrists, reddening them as her fingers gripped the headboard. She squealed as Spike muttered all manner of erotic nasties in her ear and tormented her over sensitised nipples. “I need more…”

“I know love. I know,” Spike hissed as he dipped his hips and finally sank into her willing depths with a groan. He felt her slick sheath stretch and strain as his cock opened her up. Shifting his hips from side to side, he pressed reverent kisses all along her neck before sinking his fangs into her throat.

They both moaned as their bodies finally succumbed to the inevitable. Buffy screamed as her vampire drank from her, his cock pumping his semen into her waiting body. Spike moaned as he drew her intoxicating blood into his mouth, hips jerking against hers as her channel milked his cock dry.

“Bloody well love you…you ravenous minx.”

Before she could reply, her arms gave out and they both dropped to the mattress with a grunt, his soft cock secure and resting in her channel as their combined juices seeped out of her. She tilted her head as best could and brushed a kiss on his sharp cheekbone. She took a breath to declare her love and the phone rang, breaking their idyll. A sense of foreboding hit as she watched Spike reach for the phone. She just knew their quiet life was going to be thrown into a flux and they would only survive if the two of them relied on each other.

It was time for them to return to the Hellmouth

A/N come on you know you wanna leave commenty goodness!!

Be warned I have gone a very different route with a couple of characters infact Megan commented I was making her hate one of them and was excited as usually Tara is a sympathetic character. But in this fic her lover is a vampire and she feels that they were all abandoned by Buffy, alone and vunerable to attack so she is reacting to that - I hope it works.

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

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Buffy hissed at Spike, her eyes never leaving the violent tableau they had stumbled over.

“If this isn’t the Hellmouth, then I’ll eat the Desoto,” Spike rumbled. “Nice moves though, wonder who the hell…bloody hell, is that the whelp?”

Buffy did a classic double take at the size of one of her best friend’s kicking the ass of a demon without barely breaking a sweat. “When did Xander get all with the fighty goodness?” She stared in shock as Xander exchanged a brief quip with one of the black clad men and then with an unrelenting overhand swing, cut off the two heads of his opponent. “Whoa, that was kinda impressive. Usually Xander is the one on the ground being stomped on by the demon, not the one with the nifty axey movage.”

“Oi, stop ogling the git – you’re mine, remember?” Spike reached over and pinched her firmly on the backside, a lopsided grin curling his full lips. For once in his unlife he felt confident of his woman’s affections and surprised himself by being able to tease her.

Buffy pressed herself against his side, and batted her lashes at him. “I know, honey, but a girl can be all with the surprised – cos the last time I saw Xander, he was starting to lose the battle of the twinkie inhalation.”

Spike dropped a feather soft kiss on her temple, secretly relieved that she was relaxed enough to play. All the way up, the two of them had been wrapped in moments of silence and worry about what they would have to confront on their return. Spike’s main concern was the new position in his slayer’s life and whether or not her sanctimonious friends would accept it. Buffy, he knew, was filled with grief and fear over returning to the place where her family had died and left her alone and bereft.

“Have to admit the bugger’s slimmed down and toughened up.” Spike watched as Xander spun gracefully to face a new opponent. He made a move to go join him, only to be stopped by a firm hand.

“Wait, I wanna see what they do together,” Buffy whispered and pulled him back into the shadows of the trees. The two blonds watched as the four men fought together, slicing and dicing anything that came near.

“Not bad. Never thought I’d say that but the boy’s a good fighter. Can’t work out who the other blokes are though.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed as on of them turned and bellowed out a warning to Xander. “Watcher boys,” she muttered.

“Do what?” Spike tilted his head and sniffed the air, his ears straining to hear their voices. “Ruddy hell…”

“Yeah, that too. Check out the guy over there. Is that who I think it is?” Buffy pointed at the ferrety looking man seated in the black armoured car by the cemetery entrance, clutching tensely at the steering wheel.

“Right. Now I know that we’ve slipped into the Twilight zone. That’s m’barkeep!” Spike stared in utter shock at Willy as he twitched apprehensively in the van. His head whipped round as he felt Buffy curl in on herself. “None of that missy, not putting up with the guilts.”

“Look, though…if I hadn’t, if we hadn’t…”

“Left?” A familiar voice interrupted Buffy. The two of them whirled around, hands fisted and raised defensively.

“Peace.” Tara waved a hand and theirs laxly dropped to their sides. “Hey, Buffy.” She managed to force a crooked smile onto her face and give the stationary slayer a small wave. “Spike.” Tara folded her hands together and nodded at the unusually silent vampire. A sense of gravitas filled the cold night air.

“Tara?” Buffy stared at the grim faced Wiccan in shock. Gone were the floaty dippy hippy skirts and shirts. Instead she was dressed in jeans and a thick charcoal grey polo necked sweater, her long hair pulled back in a tight bun and her gaze firm and assessing.

“Glinda?” Spike stared at her, his sharp gaze missing nothing. Grief and anger emanated from her in waves, it’s strength calling to his demon for vengeance on her behalf. Her usually soft face was shadowed with lines of anger and the grief within, and it changed her complexion to something hovering between all out fury and pure misery. His mouth softened and his eyes took on a gentle look Reaching out, he tried to grasp hold of her hand and failed as she tucked them into her pockets. “What happened, pet?”

“Buffy? Oh my god! Buffy?” Xander’s voice interrupted the uneasy tableau. “I missed you, are you okay?” Before any of the blonds could move or say anything, Xander wrapped his arms around Buffy and spun her around in the air laughing. “You have no idea how good it is to see you…even you, fangless.”

Weatherby, Collins and Smith appeared behind the embracing friends, all of them holstering weapons. None of them removing their sharp eyes from the vampire flanking the Slayer and her friends, Collins kept a stake clutched loosely in his fingers, alert and ready to move.

“Surprised you came back. The boss told us you’d earned the right to retire.” Weatherby nodded at Buffy, who was now back on her feet and staring curiously at the three of them.

A faint line appeared between her eyes. “I know you guys from somewhere.”

“Should do. You chucked me through a skylight-- you and the other Slayer.” Smith rubbed the back of his head in rueful memory.

“Look, I think we need to take this indoors, and we better retrieve the shivering ninny before he legs it with my motor.” Weatherby gestured with his chin towards the van and walked off without a backward glance.

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

“Oh I knew it! Buffy, you’re alive!” Anya threw herself enthusiastically into the stunned slayer’s arms.

The three men moved around The Magic Box with an air of familiarity that was adding to Buffy and Spike’s confusion. Too little had been said on the drive back. Even Willy had been unusually recalcitrant; the newcomers, picking up on the unsaid subtext, had kept quiet and waited. The journey had been filled with silence and many glances being exchanged by them all. Buffy’s already stressed nerves were strung even tighter by the time Willy dropped them off and scurried off into the night.

Buffy patted Anya on the back awkwardly, unused to being hugged by the ex-demoness and not too sure how to handle the sobbing armful of Anya that she was currently sporting. Xander moved over and gently extracted Anya. He curled an arm around her and led the still weeping girl over to the table and sat her down. His deep voice was soft and reassuring as he talked to her, calming her down, his hands busy stroking her hair and face in smooth even strokes.

“I say, this is a turn up for the books!” A new voice filled the silence. Buffy and Spike’s heads shot up to the balcony and in unison their brows arched in surprise. The newcomer could be nothing but a watcher, dressed in a tweed suit and with long curly black hair tied back in a messy ponytail at the base of her neck. Curious brown eyes peered over a pair of half moon reading glasses as the woman slowly made her way down the metal ladder, a pronounced limp becoming apparent as she made her way down to the shop floor. When she reached the floor, her hand reached out and grasped the cane leaning against the ladder and she limped slowly towards Buffy and Spike.

“Hello. I’m Gemma, you are Buffy and I believe you’re William the Bloody, aka Spike.” The young woman thrust out her hand and smiled broadly. “What a delight to meet you both.” She took Spike’s hand and shook it vigorously and then in turn took Buffy’s, repeating her enthusiastic handshaking. “I really have heard so very much about you both. Did you know you’re both standard reading for all Watchers In Training.”

Buffy edged closer to Spike, unconsciously wanting to protect him from the limping watcher. She could sense the others moving around and settling into established routines. Anya had returned to her side and clinging to her hands, her engagement ring cutting into Buffy's flesh. 'Whoa! Engagement ring?'

"Anya!" she exclaimed and held up the ex-demoness's hand to let Spike see the small diamond glittering. A bolt of excitement shot through her and Buffy turned her wide smiling eyes to Xander. “Oh Xander, lookat you all growed up!”

"I know, it is the perfect ring. Xander wants to marry me. Can you believe it? Me!" she squealed excitedly.

Before Buffy could do more than hug Xander and Anya, the three silent men returned and sat down at the circular table, joining a quiet Tara and Gemma. Both women were watching the dynamics between the two blonds. Neither of them had missed the scarring on the erstwhile slayer's neck, or the way the
two of them interacted.

It was Buffy's innocent question that shifted the moment of glee to a more sober note. "Where's Willow?" With those two words everything shifted and the mood darkened. Anya's shoulders shot up defensively; Xander's face took on a pallid cast and Tara's eyes flashed angrily.

"Wondered when you would notice," she muttered under her breath. The angry Wicca only calming down slightly when Xander placed a gentle hand on her rigid shoulder.

"I think you may want to be seated. A lot has happened since you left." Gemma gestured to the empty seats.

"So it'd appear," Spike muttered. His sharp eyes missed nothing. The air of tension that now filled the room was setting his hackles on edge and he pulled Buffy to his side. "What the hell is going on?"

"Willow…Wills..." Xander looked down at his hand, and realised he was clutching Tara's shoulder, trying to anchor himself. He didn't want to tell Buffy what had happened to their best friend. He knew part of her would blame herself for what had happened and that was wrong. She wasn't to blame. Buffy had lost everything and there was no way he was going to add to her misery and nor was anyone else. He ruefully acknowledged to himself that a few months ago he’d have been very different, bitching at her for her choices and for abandoning them to their own fate. But what a difference a month or two makes. He could see Buffy for who she really was, much like Spike did. A young girl who had shouldered the weight of the world on her slender frame for far longer than anyone should. She had finally been able to escape and there was no way he was going to damage her fragile psyche. He loved her too much for that.

"The young girl was turned by a vampire," Weatherby interjected. He realised that it was better that a stranger handled this announcement, the Slayer's friends were barely able to mention the girl's name, let alone attempt to dust her. He and the others had agreed that when they got a chance, one of them would do it. That way there would be no recriminations or wavering; she was a feral demon and not the girl that these people were mourning. He had his orders from Travers—maintain the balance on the Hellmouth and if the Slayer was to return, work with her and not against her. Well she was back and he was guessing for some reason other than a nice visit to have a cuppa and catch up on the latest traumas that the core group had suffered.

Spike wrapped an arm around Buffy's hunched shaking shoulders; she had curled in on herself despite his hopes. He stared over at Tara's implacable face, a frown cutting across his brows. "When?"

"Same day as…well…Dawnie," Anya whispered sadly.

"What?" Buffy's head shot up. A wild look filled her tear soaked eyes as she scanned the faces opposite her. Her brain shut down as images of Dawn’s last few minutes flashed through her mind. She had slowly put herself back together after that horrific day and now it was all coming back to haunt her with a vengeance that was winding, leaving her clutching at her chest for a moment

"As far as we can tell, she was turned in the morgue. She went to check on you and Dawn and never came back." Tara's voice was measured and filled with a suppressed rage. "Where were you? Why didn't she find you? What happened in there? We found Dawn, but then you were gone. The house was sold and then nothing."

"But there were no vamps in there. Spike and I got rid of the one who…who..."Buffy ignored Tara's demanding questions, a small part of her frazzled mind noting that her friend's stutter was long gone. All of them had been changed that day - and not for the better. Buffy hung her head in despair; she felt Anya's thin fingers drop onto her leg and give her a reassuring squeeze, offering silent support and comfort.

"Yeah, no nasties in there. I would've sensed it," Spike interrupted before Buffy said the words. He hated them and refused to hear them fall from her lips, not again. Was bad enough having to come back to the scene of her sister’s death, but his girl was finally healing and he didn't want her to say it again. Not after all those weeks of her screaming and crying for her sister and mother. The horrors of the nightmares falling from her lips as she clutched at him, terror haunting her red rimmed eyes as she let the words tumble from her mouth. He had not wanted to come, but as soon as they had realised that the green-eyed bastard was not dust, there had been no choice. He had to be destroyed for what he’d done to the Bit and now for Red. “Never thought he’d have the same talent as Drac…”

Spike looked at Tara and before he could say anything she stood abruptly, her chair falling backwards with a loud crash. Xander leapt out of the way with a yelp. Tara looked over at Buffy and then stared at Spike without a hint of the compassionate girl he’d punched on the nose only a short while ago. “I have to go, I can’t stay here. Buffy, I’m sorry. I…I…I’ll see you tomorrow?” With that she vanished in a flicker of an eye. All that remained was a smell of burnt cordite.

Spike’s scarred brow shot up at her display of power. “Seems like Glinda’s got a mite bit more going on in the mojo department these days,” he commented laconically, slouching back in his chair and looping his thumbs in his belt buckle. He noticed the three Watcher boys exchange a glance and lean forward almost in unison. Their military training apparent in the deftness of their moves and their almost symbiotic behaviour.

“She’s been working with Anya and I, strengthing herself. She’s come on in leaps and bounds since that day.” Gemma fiddled with her cane and met Spike’s eyes unflinchingly. “We’ve all needed to be on guard since he began to make waves around here.” Absently she rubbed her leg, trying to ease the stiffness. “He’s strong and unpredictable and unlike any other demon I have ever come across or read about.”

“He gotta a name?” Spike focused on the woman, taking in her soft features. There was something about her, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it yet.

“Not that we know of. No one knows where he came from, how old he is or even how he managed to get all the power at his beck and call. It’s very frustrating.”

“He hides behind his minions; has a habit of turning ones with some power be it magical or martial. We’ve been on damage control since we got here. He’s a savvy bastard.” Smith ran his fingers through his thinning hair tiredly.

Buffy sat there frozen, guilt filling her. If she hadn't left, Willow wouldn't be dead. It was all her fault. She was cursed; death was her gift to all that knew her. Only one who was safe around her was Spike-- and that was because he was already dead. Her face turned white as her mind tried to accept that her redheaded friend was gone, now replaced with a repellent demon. They'd all had first hand experience with vamp Willow in the past and Buffy was praying this incarnation was not as feral. She couldn't say anything; instead, she clutched onto Spike's hand and stared blindly ahead.

“Don’t get it. I killed the bastard.” Spike rubbed his chin as he unwillingly recalled the events of that day. He reached over and took Buffy’s shaking hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure her.

"Well, he must have something to bring him back. He's an odd bugger is all we can work out," Collins commented, his hands busy sharpening the stiletto dagger on a whetstone he'd retrieved from the training room. "Nothing like any other vamp we've ever come across before."

"How so?" Spike's rough voice took on a more polished edge as he snapped out the question. Both he and Buffy dreaded the answer; they already knew what was coming.

"Well he has very funny looking eyes, a brilliant emerald green," Gemma explained. She reached for a folder and began to pull out reams of paper and a series of pictures taken from the security videos at the shop. "This is all I have so far. We managed to get images only the other day. He seems to be a very reclusive type, relying on minions to do his work and hunting. With that, she handed them over to Spike.

He took one look and began to curse. Spike placed the graining images of the vampire infront of Buffy. He hadn’t wanted to accept the information that the others had given him, but there was irrefutable proof in black and white.

"I don't want to, I know..." she whispered, her voice small and tired.

"I don’t get it. We dusted this bastard. How the bloody hell did this happen?" Spike growled. "Where the ruddy hell is the Watcher and what are all you lot doing here?"

"Giles, well…umm, he's indisposed." Gemma flushed bright red.

“I called Travers and asked for help,” Xander whispered. He was worried that Buffy might view his actions as a betrayal, but he’d been tired and desperate and fighting what he had feared to be a losing battle. There was no way he was losing anyone else, so he’d bitten the bullet, stolen Giles’s phonebook and called the Council.

To this day he was still in shock over how easily Travers let them all off. The older man had basically admitted that Buffy wasn’t the official Slayer, Faith was, and that he’d let Buffy fight Faith’s battles as there had been no one else. He’d sent over the Three Stooges, the same ones who’d tried to ‘retrieve’ Faith and he’d been ready to hate them. Instead they’d knuckled down and helped out. The best result had been Gemma. She’d seamlessly moved into their lives, becoming their friend and confidant.

"The old tosser's a drunk and a liability," Collins interjected. "Nearly got Tara and Anya killed a few months ago on patrol. So we suggested he take a short sabbatical."

"Giles's drinks?" was all Buffy managed before she burst into tears.

"Where is he?" Spike pinned the thin man with a glare. He knew that the Watcher was the only thing that Buffy had left of an adult influence and to hear he had feet of clay and nearly killed two of her friends because of his boozing was not good. On top of losing her sister, mum and now Willow, she
was being told her Watcher was a booze hound. He was aching to pick her up, get into the Desoto and bugger off home. Gritting his teeth, the irate vampire pulled Buffy out of Anya's arms and onto his lap.

"Any other good news?" he asked sarcastically. Part of him acknowledged he was being a flippant arse, but an even smaller part was hoping that the watcher bird was going to announce the Hellmouth had sealed itself and that all was well in the world. Running a soothing hand down Buffy’s tense back, soothing her, Spike blotted her tears with his free hand. So far their first night was a bundle of laughs and they still hadn’t gone to visit the graves. They were all so damaged and he didn’t want Buffy to be pulled down by any of them. Not after the months away from here and watching her slowly come back to life. Gradually becoming the girl he suspected she had been before that fateful day on the steps of her old school in Los Angeles. And he liked it, he loved all of her, but to see that carefree smile flitter across her pouting lips in the last few weeks had been utter bliss. Yet here she was in tears shaking in his arms, back on the Hellmouth and having the soul sucked out of her by a series of events that no one could’ve prevented. But he must also see the seriousness of what is going on. He has to think of the others left behind, because leaving and them dying would kill her and that would never bring back the Buffy he loved.

“Well, Willow isn’t that powerful a vampire as far as we can tell. She seems to be quite weak and is rarely seen out hunting.” Gemma sighed and rested her chin on her cane in a move that was practised. Her brown hair was rumpled and escaping from its tie, the faint lines around her mouth and eyes deepened showing her tiredness.

“Good lord. Is that Buffy? I thought she’d buggered off.” A slurred voice drew their attention to the front of the shop and Giles stood swaying dramatically in the doorway, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. “S’cuse me, I just popped in to find a hankie. I appear to be leaking.” With that he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Oh a ruddy perfect end to the reunion from hell!” Spike growled.

A/N Phew the last of the poll is now done and all chapters promised now posted! Next week have an extra treat lined up so you will have to check in here as I will have something special to post along with another chapter of Something Wicked! Busy bunny aren't I?

Would love to know what you all thought of the above chapter as it was fun to write and I'm worried about the reunion also what do you thinks of Gemma? Did you expect CoW boys? Let me know if you liked - thank you

“Seriously, did you ever think he would be a booze hound?” Buffy blinked up at Spike as they headed into the darkened cemetery. She was focusing on the wreck that was her Watcher rather than letting herself think about anything else. Her mind shied away from Willow and her horrific fate; she felt sick to her stomach. But there was nothing she could say or do to make Tara feel better. Not now, but maybe later once she’d had a rest and thought about it. The memory of the angry face of the once gentle Wiccan wounded her so deeply. Tara was so damaged and it was all so wrong. She wished she could change it all, but then realised that it wasn’t something she could fix. So instead she focused on Giles. She couldn’t believe the change and the guilt began to pile on her already burdened shoulders.

“He stunk like I used to after a three week bender,” Spike replied noncommittally. He’d wasn’t about to mention the nights of boozing and bonding over bands that he doubted Buffy have ever even heard of. Somehow those rare nights had developed some type of camaraderie between them that he wasn’t too keen to examine closely. He suspected most of it was due to the dual desire of keeping the golden girl staring up at him with sea green eyes alive than a fine appreciation of a good scotch and Eric Clapton’s early oeuvre.

Guilt coloured the same eyes he was admiring and before she could say a word he placed a finger over her lips and shook his head at her.

“No, don’t say it; Watcher Boy makes his own choices and if he reaches for a bottle then it’s his fault, not yours.”

“But—”

“No.” Spike wasn’t wavering on this point; there was enough for her to contend with without adding the guilt of her ex-watcher’s stupendous fall into a bottle of 100% proof. The hour spent scraping the blood-soaked git up off his own shop floor and bundling him into the training room and patching him up had been trying on all their nerves, let alone hers, and the guilt simmering in the green depths of her eyes had been gnawing at him. It had been a welcome relief when the curly haired Watcher girl had offered to watch over Rupes and suggested making it a night. By then it had been too late to visit their graves, sunrise was rapidly approaching. Both of them had talked and agreed that they would go and visit Dawn and her mother at sunset the next day. So they headed back to their hotel to rest and recover from all the revelations so far.

Spike reached into his duster and pulled out the swipe card for their room and fumbled with the locking mechanism. “Never heard of a sodding key…posing wankers,” he muttered under his breath as he jiggled the card and refrained from kicking the door in. It was early morning and he didn’t think the other guests in the hotel would appreciate the noise-- and frankly, he didn’t want the attention.

“Let me, Mr Potty Mouth.” Buffy snagged the card and with a deft swipe had the door to their room open. Before she could step in, he swept her off her feet and carried her into the darkened room, his mouth hard and demanding as he kissed her. Buffy twined her arms around his neck, her fingers busy in the soft curls at the nape of his neck. Her mouth was soft and pliant as she suckled on his lower lip catching it with her teeth and giving the firm flesh a gentle nip.

“Need you,” he gasped against her neck as he gave her throbbing pulse point a long and languorous lick.
Hands were hard and hot against the other as they started to strip each other, fingers fumbling over buttons and zippers as they kissed over and over. Buffy growled at his shirt and ripped it open, her mouth intent on his chest, soft sucking bites as she travelled across the rippling muscles unerringly to his flat nipples. She teased them with her lips and teeth, biting and sucking until he was a gasping mess, his cock aching to bury itself in her tight wetness as he rocked against her with a purr.

“Lights. I want to see you.” Spike pulled away, his chest heaving unnecessarily as he staggered away from her grasping hands and fumbled for the lamp base on the bedside table. The warm glow of light filled the room, illuminating her radiant beauty to his greedy gaze. He flipped his silk shirt off his shoulders and let it slide to the floor, then he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and gave her his patented tongue curl. “Take off your skirt, Slayer. Let me see you.”

The chocolaty timbre of his voice caused her pupils to dilate. Buffy licked her swollen lips and reached up and pulled her hair loose from the ribbon she’s used to tie it off her face. With a sensuous smile she trailed her fingers over her breasts, her fingertips teasing her puckered nipples as she toyed with them momentarily. Her eyes clouded with passion as her hips undulated with each gentle pull on her nubs.

“Rotten little tease. Now get your knickers off, pet.” Spike pulled the buttons apart on his jeans and let them ride low on his hips. A fine trail of brown hair ran down his ridged abdomen and disappeared into the opening. He was the image of pure debauchery and incipient lust as his eyes darkened to a deep blue.

“Who me? A tease! Look whose talking.” Buffy grinned and shook her hair around her shoulders as her hands trailed down to the zipper and loosened her skirt to let it pool at her feet. The nearly naked blonde stood there clad in a pair of wispy white lace panties and a coy smile. She crooked a finger at him and stepped and onto the bed.
“God, you are just so perfect…a sodding goddess, you are,” he breathed and stepped forward, arms wrapping around her and pulling her to his hungry mouth. She tasted like liquid heaven; his tongue and mouth covered her stomach as he lapped at her damp skin. Spike moaned against her bellybutton as he inhaled her scent: lavender and sin – his favourite. Spike’s hands clasped hold of her backside, each rounded globe firm under his clutching hands as they kneaded and rubbed the soft skin. Buffy tangled her hands in his hair, her fingers pulling and tugging on the curls as she threw her head back and sighed before looking down entranced at his blissful face.

“Spiiiike,” she shrieked as he nuzzled against her soaked folds and pressed open mouth kisses on her lace covered mound. “Gahh…” Buffy whimpered and rocked her hips forward as he tore her panties off and ran his tongue along her slippery cleft, gathering the fluids that poured from her opening. Attaching his mouth to her swollen clit, he sucked hard and then laughed against Buffy’s soft curls as her legs buckled and she fell backwards with a groan and a happy whimper.

Kneeling back he watched as she fell, her hips curled upwards and her legs falling open, offering herself to his greedy gaze. Spike licked his lips and stared down at his girl as she lay their indolently waiting for him. Her eyes closed as her fingers moved down to the juncture of her thighs. He loved watching her do this; her pink folds were plump and swollen with desire, a desire that was just for him. Spike licked his lips hungrily, already tasting her in his mind’s eye.

“Use your fingers, pet. Get yourself ready for me.” His voice was husky and deep as he stood fluidly, stripped his jeans off and reached for his erection. She smirked and let her index finger tease her clit, circling it and pressing against it. Small whimpers escaped her open mouth as her hips churned upwards and she spread her legs as far as she could.

“That’s it, Buffy. Slide them in, let me see you…Christ,” he trailed off with a strangled gasp as Buffy slipped two fingers into her opening and began to pump them in and out. Her other hand was busy pulling and tweaking her erect nipples, teasing them even harder. Her eyes squeezed shut as she called out for him, his name a breathy whisper amongst her whimpers and gasps. Spike sank to his knees on the edge of the bed, his eyes riveted to the sensual sight before him and tried not to envy her fingers for being where he craved to be.

“Spike, please.” She reached up with her free hand and gestured for him to cover her. Her legs splayed further apart, the muscles in her thighs flexing and relaxing. She offered him an even more erotic sight as she spread her fingers, opening herself up. Her pink depths saturated with her excitement as her heady fragrance toyed with his senses and intoxicated him.

“God,” he choked out and pumped his aching cock in time to the movements of her busy fingers. His eyes glazed over as her foot rose and her toes pressed against his balls and wriggled. “Love, please,” he begged as his cock jerked against his stomach with each press of her pretty pink toes.

Buffy opened her eyes and pouted up at him and pulled her fingers from her soaked opening, offering them to his hungry mouth. “Taste,” she whispered with a sly smile.

Spike gave her a wicked grin and sucked her fingers into his mouth and then threw her hand away from his lips. The pent up hunger and desire started to escape Spike’s iron grip and his eyes flashed gold as his demon surged in and out of control.

“Put your hands over your head and leave them there,” he growled and then fell between her legs. His mouth latching onto her inner thigh and he vamped out, letting his fangs slid into the buttery soft flesh and then pulled out. Buffy jerked hard against his mouth as he let the blood seep from the pinprick wounds his fangs had left in her golden skin. Using his tongue, he trailed the blood over her skin and up onto her cleft, mingling the crimson fluid with her juices. He purred happily and feasted on her warm softness. His fingers became busy pumping in and out of her, curving upwards and pressing against her inner walls, unerringly seeking out her pleasure points with practised ease.

“Oh my.” Buffy curled one leg around his shoulders and cradled him against her as he brought her to orgasm over and over. Sweat poured off her as she screamed herself hoarse with pleasure, her grasp on his ears hard as she tried to anchor herself in the maelstrom of pleasure he was evoking in her body. Spikes finally relented and with one last lusty suckle on her reddened and over sensitised clit, he slid up to kiss her heaving abdomen. He rubbed his aching cock against her soaked inner thigh, drunk on her blood and juices. His pupils had dilated and turned his eyes coal black with passion.

“Spike, I need you. Kiss me.” She tugged on his mussed hair and pulled her vampire up her limp satiated body.

“Yes, dear,” he smirked and stole her lips in a passionate kiss that recharged her energy. Buffy slinked her hand down between them and grabbed hold of his engorged erection and gave it a hearty pump before guiding it to her pulsing opening.

Whispered words of love and devotion filled the room as he sank in with a contented moan.

The room was filled with whispered words of devotion and moans of bliss as they moved together towards nirvana.

~~~~~~~~~~

Willow rolled her eyes and yawned as the latest of his stinking minions pushed into her and jerked his hips back and forth for a minute before emptying himself into her unresponsive depths with a happy groan. He sank his fangs into one of her breasts and tore the skin as he sloppily fed on her; she tried to remain conscious, not having any blood to spare. Her latest partner pulled out of her channel and then rubbed his fingers into his cum and massaged it into her dry lower lips. His fangs were still sunk deep in her breast as he tore at her pale freckled flesh with a delighted snarl.

“God, she’s still so tight down there. You’d think after so many guys that—” he muttered as he stood, his limp cock hanging flaccidly over the elastic of his tracksuit bottoms as he looked down at her red curl covered mound.
She shifted slightly, her chains rattling as she tried to get comfortable. The hard stone floor was unrelenting against her cold flesh. Willow pulled her legs closed once he’d moved away from her with a shout of success, tugging up his tracksuit pants and high fiving one of his buddies who had already used her earlier in the evening. The small room filled with their chants and crude jokes at her expense; if she’d had a soul, Willow might’ve been hurt by them. But she didn’t – so who cared what they did to her body. Her former school buddies-- all members of the baseball team who’d spent years taunting her geekhood-- were now crowding around her pulling straws to see who would have her next.

She shifted slightly and tested the strength of the chains that bound her to the wall. Willow sighed; she was bored and wanted something to eat. Instead she was stuck here entertaining the boys for him, her lips curled with hatred. Ever since he turned her he’d kept her hungry and reliant on him. She suspected that also he’d made her into a weak vampire. Possibly because he had no clue as to what to do, but she was working out from the latest batch of idiots he’d sent down to have fun with her body that he was starting to get a clue about how to turn a person. They were getting stronger if the bruises were anything to go by.

The redhead curled up into a tight ball and closed her eyes, a look of discontent marring her delicate features. Her naked body was littered with bite marks fresh and half-healed. Bruises decorated her hips, backside and neck where she’d been pinned down and used. Her game face was a permanent fixture as she was constantly famished, kept hidden away from the Slayer’s friends and starved to keep her docile and agreeable. They had all learned the hard way that if she was left to her own devices she drank indiscriminately and then turned her magicks on her own kind. The last time she’d escaped it had taken over thirty vampires armed with tazers to bring her down. Ever since then she had been chained like a dog in the cellar and fed once a week. It was all about control – his especially.

“Maaan she’s a lightweight, no stamina. Now that cheerleader, god what was her name? She could go for hours and could suck chrome off a bumper – Harmony. That was it, Harmony.” Her last fuck buddy nudged one of his friends and rolled his eyes at her huddled form, his face distorted with his game face. He was too newly risen to have learned control and his master had no interest in teaching him. Instead, he moved on to turn the next victim he got his fangs into, intent on creating an army of minions to secure his dominance over the town.

“Yeah, she is a disappointment, my little redheaded pet. When I fucked the life outta her I kinda hoped her magics would transfer over like the other one. Cos her sexual prowess – bit of a non-starter. Guess she really is only into girls like she says.”

The minions all grovelled at their master, all ideas of who had her next gone as he walked into the basement and regarded Willow without any expression on his face. His bright green eyes simmered with anger and power, untapped so far as he still hadn’t learned the extent of the powers he’d stolen from the Slayer’s kid sister.

He had been a fledge himself, only just rising in the morgue and his first meal had been Dawn and somehow her powers had been transferred to him. The vampire had no idea what he contained, only that it seemed like he was undustable if his previous experience at the hands of the bleached vampire were anything to go by. Other than that, he had no clue about why he was different; all he knew was that other vamps either avoided him or were scared of him.

“Clean her up. I don’t like sloppy sevenths. Bring her to my rooms,” he ordered as he spun on his heel and left the dank basement.

“Make sure to put her collar on her with the leash. I like it when she’s my puppy.”

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

Buffy curled against Spike’s side with a contented sigh. He stretched and then pulled her onto his chest and tucked her head under his chin with a happy purr. The two blonds were wrung out and satiated from their lovemaking and happy to bask in the afterglow.

“You okay?” he whispered into her hair.

“Kinda.”

“Bit different back here, innit?”

“That would be yeah with a capital Y,” she sighed.

“Curly seems to be okay for a Watcher chit. Wonder where she got the war wound?” Spike reached over and grabbed his cigarettes, lit one and puffed on it absently. His mind began ticking over all the events of the evening and the changes were surprising. He still wondered how safe he was with this new bunch of bruisers sent over by the Council. He liked the chit, she seemed to have a clue about what protecting the Hellmouth was all about. And if that limp was anything to go by, she’d had first hand experience of causing mayhem.

“Still processing the whole Watchers helping out thing here on the Hellmouth. Am more weirded out by the fact Travers didn’t sicc his buddies on me and hunt me down. Instead he sends them here to patrol.” Buffy lapped at his throat with a throaty giggle as she twined her legs with his. “Last time I saw them they were chasing Faith off a roof after chaining me up in a van here in Sunnydale. That came out weird, didn’t it? They were here for Faith, Faith did the switchy thingie I told you about and they thought I was her.” Buffy took a breath. “Then in L.A the whole Angel thing and then the roof.”

Spike nodded. He had heard all this before and had already vented all his anger over his girl’s treatment at the hands of the Council of Utter Wankers. Well, most of it. He was sure he could dredge up a few snarls to keep ‘em on their toes.

“Bit surprised by the nice version of the whelp, seems like he’s growed up into a nice puppy.” He smoothly changed the subject before he got pissed off and had to go and bite one of the goons that worked for the Council. He didn’t fancy the taste of any of them, probably filled with steroids and other rank stuff.

“And engaged – that is all kinds of awesome.” A smiled wreathed her passion swollen lips as she remembered the looks of happiness in both of their eyes as they showed off Anya’s ring.

“Yeah, thought he’d scarper from the bint as soon as she started thinking about orange blossom and centrepieces.”

Buffy giggled and shook her head. “Don’t say anything, but me too.”

They both avoided mentioning Tara, Willow and Giles, not wanting to open that can of angst just yet.

“I won’t, pet. Now sleep, need to keep your strength up.” He stubbed out his cigarette and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

“Love you, Spike.”

“Love you too, Slayer.”

A/N I am sorry for the delay in posting but ficathons and other WIPs took over - I have a huge soft spot for this fic and more is coming soon. I have to finish my seasonal_spuffy fic and then I can get back to writing more on my much neglected WIPs.

I do hope everyone enjoyed the Spuffy smut and that the segement with Willow wasn't too horrific? There is reasoning for this treatment - it's a set up for events that will occur towards the end of the fic - yes the end! I do have an outline and I will stick to it damn it *grins*.

Comments would be hugely appreciated and much loved - shameless I know will shut up now and go off and write more chapters