Dreams to Dust

Prologue

Find Me Here
Speak To Me
I want to feel you
I need to hear you
You are the light
That's leading me
To the place where I find peace again.

“Everything” - by Lifehouse


Spike clenched his jaw as he made his way through the thick, never ending forest. His movements were slow as he carefully walked through the tangle of wood that made up the trees and forest floor. It wouldn’t do him much good to be dusted by a stray branch in the heart.


Bleeding waste.


He must have a death wish.


He didn’t much care either. That night, he had gone to bed in a rage of fury after Drusilla had left the bedroom singing praises about her precious Daddy. The hand through the wall hadn’t been much help. He could do well with diving heart first onto to a stake rather than listen to her piddle on about the large foreheaded poof. Bloody annoying that, having to listen to her adore another man. All he did for her, all the love he had given her and she still barely gave him a second glance.


Besides he abandoned them. Spike and Dru didn’t need Angelus, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve the likes of them.


Not that it changed anything. A hundred plus years of devoting his entire existence to his sire, his Dark Princess, and she still didn’t seem to care even a tiny smidge about him. It was bloody unfair is what it was. Not even a sodding thank you, just a nice song about Angelus and how precious he is.


He was sick of being love’s bitch. Sick of giving her his heart only to have it shoved in his face every possible second. He had nothing left to give her, she had stomped on it too many times. He was through, exhausted.


Spike snapped a branch sticking out in the middle of the almost non-existent path. This forest of a maze was infuriating him, and mixing that said frustration with his anger for Drusilla was doing nothing for his mood. He imagined the wood to be a nice, juicy neck. Perhaps Angelus being snapped into a big pile of dust, a pleasant thought if there ever was one.


He was in a really sour mood.


The fact that he hadn’t a clue where he was, wasn’t helping. Nor was this death trap disguised as a forest.


He stopped and took the time to sniff the air, using his enhanced senses to detect anything that might be some sort of clue. The scent hit his nose almost instantly. The smell of tears and vanilla.


It provided a goal, and his frustration slowly turned into curiosity as his feet led him to where he wanted to go. He felt something tugging at his stomach, pulling him forward in the direction he needed to go. It was strong, he was surprised that he hadn’t felt it before. The demon clawed at his chest. It meant only one thing.


He moved faster.


He had nothing left to lose, and almost everything to gain.


***


He had pushed and shoved, the branches snapping against him with little effort. Seconds turned to minutes but finally Spike found himself at the edge of the thick line of trees, and at the start of a grassy circle, trees lining the outside, dandelions popping up in random places. In the middle kneeled a girl.


He had reached his goal. A tiny slip of a girl who couldn’t be more than sixteen, shaking as she cried away her fears and inner demons. She was beautiful.


And she was in pain.


He couldn’t not go to her.


“What’s wrong, luv?”


Spike pushed her hair behind her ear before quickly snapping his hand back as he realized what he was doing. As much as he wanted to keep his Big Bad persona, he wanted more to comfort the girl in front of him. A human, a girl that he didn’t know. Bleedin’ dream. He was losing his touch, he was. Should be ripping her to shreds and basking in her blood as it poured past his lips. He shouldn’t have to think about it, it was simply a part of his nature. But instead his hand moved to rub comforting circles on her back, in an effort to calm her.


All had gone to hell.


Not that it mattered. He didn’t care. He’d do what he wanted and when, sod everything else.


The pull was strong.


He moved to put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to his chest. She was warm. It felt good against his skin.


Spike barely heard her whispered, “Everything,” it had been spoken so softly.


***

Her long golden locks were sprawled everywhere, damp with sweat and tears. The sweet vanilla scent of her shampoo tickled his nose as he buried his nose in her hair. It was the nicest thing he had ever had the pleasure of smelling.


Her skin was soft and warm against his cold skin. It had been years since he had felt warmth like this. He realized he missed it. Missed it dearly.


He gently caressed her arms as he whispered soothing words in her ears. She was beginning to calm, her breath was beginning to even. This was something he was used to, comforting the girl. He had spent many a nights holding Drusilla just like this as she moaned about this and that. Dru and her bloody visions.


This felt different though. With Drusilla it had been an obligation. She was his sire, responsible for creating him, how could he not help her. Spike had wanted her affection, wanted her to know, to see, how much he cared for her, what he was willing to do. And in turn he had hoped that she would give to him as much as he knew he could give to her.


She never did.


But with this girl, with this golden girl, it wasn’t like that. He needed to comfort her, needed to help her. She was hurting, and as she hurt, a part of him did as well. It was wrong, but it was what he felt.


***

At long last her tears had finally come to a stop, and he felt the ache slowly fade away. Pressing a kiss to her smooth forehead, he asked, “All better?”


“You’re cold,” she complained in a whisper. Spike shivered at the obvious reminder of what he was and of what he was doing.


“I am.”


It wasn’t long before he felt her tense in his arms. It was agony watching the emotions play out across her face. First confusion, then realization, fear, and finally anger. He dropped his arms to his sides when she decided to jump suddenly to her feet. There was no point in a struggle, he was in no mood to fight her.


He couldn’t fight her.


“You’re one of them,” she accused. Her voice was a mixture of anger and fear. “A vampire.”


She spat the word with such hatred and anger that Spike truly despised the creature that he was. For a brief moment, anyway. “Know ‘bout us then?”


“I’m the Slayer,” she said haughtily, hands at hips and acting all high and mighty. It was cute. “I kill your kind.”

Of all the things, he just had to run himself into a Slayer, comfort her, and enjoy it. That there ruined his reputation as Slayer of Slayers. “Is that right?” He replied with a sneer. “Gonna kill me then?”


He never lunged. He knew she was the Slayer and he didn’t even bother to take the first punch. The bloody thought never even crossed his mind. He just sat back, ready to defend himself if need be. It was so unlike him, he was the act first, think later type of guy. It was fighting like this that could get him killed. Recklessness, almost like he was a sodding fledgling and not a master vampire.


He was just asking for a dusting.


“Yes. Yes. Of course.” She stuttered her way through as she regained her focus. She aimed a punch at his head that he easily ducked. Then another and another. One miss after miss.


She had no fucking clue what she was doing. It was like she had never thrown a punch in her life. Caught up in the fight, he didn’t hesitate to tell her exactly that.


“Didn’t really get a chance to.”


A Slayer. Never trained, and by the look of the cry fest earlier, she had just been called. An easy kill. It was his chance to bag his third Slayer.


And yet he didn’t.


Instead the next words that came out of his mouth surprised both him and her. “Then I’m just the vamp ta teach you.”


It was official. The world was coming to an end.

Chapter One

If I close my eyes forever,
would it ease the pain?
Could I breathe again?

Maybe I'm addicted,
I'm out of control,
but you're the drug
that keeps me from dying.
Maybe I'm a liar,
but all I really know is
you're the only reason I'm trying.
“Addicted” - Enrique Iglesias


Perhaps the correct term was that he had an addiction. Addicted to some blonde that haunted his dreams at night. She was in his head, his thoughts, his blood. She was everywhere. Something Drusilla never failed to point out.


Drusilla, in fact, thought the whole thing was fucking hilarious.


Spike wanted to wring her pale, little neck. It was not funny, it was anything but funny. It was killing him. Slowly killing him. Taking over to the point where there wouldn’t be anything left soon.


And there wasn’t much left.


Feeding was a hoot and a half. His body didn’t much care for it expect for the fact it was necessary to remain in his unlife. He still fed on human blood, no substitute for that sweet ambrosia. And there was no sodding way he was going to live off sewer rats like the poof. He was still a vampire, had to keep some of his dignity. He was already turning into a laughing stock for the masses.


He didn’t kill.


And there was the problem. He had no desire to kill. It had been something he reveled in, got off on, and now just the thought of it did nothing but make him nauseous. The thought made him sick, it did. And it annoyed the bleeding hell out of him. Especially seeing as he needed to kill something, needed to get his frustrations out. But he couldn’t and that little handicap only worked to make his frustration worse.


He was turning into one lousy wimp of a vampire.


But that wasn’t the only thing that changed. Oh no. He slept at night now. Not during the day. Night.


Why? Because she slept at night.


The first time he had been angry at Drusilla and didn’t much feel like going out with her to feed. Second night he wanted to see if it was a fluke, he supposed, he wasn’t really sure. He remembered the strong desire to crawl into the bed at the same time as the night before. He had been unable to deny it. And so it had been, for two weeks, sleeping in the middle of the night, sleeping to dream, sleeping for some bloody girl.


Pathetic.


But then they stopped.


Two weeks and the stupid chit disappeared. Now two months later, not even a wink. Nothing. Not even an explanation. Only the reassurance that she was still lucky enough to be alive. He could feel her, in his gut, he knew she was okay.


She was real. Real. As in not just some bloody dream.


Not a doubt in his mind that the chit didn’t exist. Day after the first, he’d been sitting in a local demon bar and received word that a new Slayer had been called. There was clue number one. Spike was good, but even he, the Slayer of Slayers, wasn’t that good, that he had the ability to determine and see when a new one was called. That was Drusilla’s deal, not his.


Clue number two. The big staring in his face, you can’t miss this clue. The one where his habits started changing, he stopped killing, the strange desire to sleep at night. Kinda obvious. His feelings were all skewered. Some bunch of junk that he hacked up to lack of control and him losing his bloody mind. Felt things that he knew he shouldn’t, but he did anyway and couldn’t bring himself to care other than the fact that he knew he really shouldn’t be feeling the way he did. It was a confusing mess of emotions, and he was beginning to think his inner William had decided to come out to play.


Bottom line, dreams shouldn’t have such a strong effect on a person no matter what they are. It wasn't natural.


Then, add in the fact that she seemed to be calling all the shots and you had yourself a damn good set of reasons as to why he chalked these dreams as something more. Couldn’t figure out what, probably some spell or what not. But there was definitely something bigger at work here.


There was no other way to possibly explain what he was going through. What he was feeling. It wasn’t love. It definitely wasn’t that. Spike was a many things, but he wasn’t stupid enough to fall in love with some girl in two weeks that only existed in his head. Well to him, she could go be 3-D elsewhere.


A part of him knew he needed to figure it out, and the other part of him was terrified at what he might find when he did. So he did nothing, he was messed up enough as it was, there was no desire to make it worse.


She had cared though. Spike knew that much. He knew she at least trusted him, had to with the things she had been telling him; her dirty little secrets. Although you had to minus the fact that at the time she was throughly convinced that he was indeed just a figment of her little overactive imagination. But she had cared, and more than Drusilla ever had in the hundred plus years he had known her.


That had meant something. It had meant a lot. For once there was someone who didn’t look down on him in some way, shape, or form. Someone who viewed him as an equal. And at night, that was what they were. They were equals, finding company in the likes of the other. Titles didn’t matter. Someone was there, someone to talk to, someone that cared.


He had needed that.


Spike hadn’t realized how much until he had met her, but he had. Truth was adult conversations with Drusilla were few and far between. She was to far lost in her own mind, too much like a child, to understand what was really going on around her most of the time.


And Spike had needed more.


Night and his Golden girl had given him that. And then she had taken it away.


He was consumed by her. She was everywhere, and he was fading away because of it. He didn’t want it. He didn’t understand it. But that didn’t change the fact that he needed it. Needed her.


It was a load of tosh.


Every part of him craved her. The demon included. And yet he knew the wrong that would come of it, was coming of it. And he didn’t care. In fact the whole point was that he found himself more bothered by the fact that he didn’t care when he knew he should, than the changes and feelings he was experiencing.


It was almost like he didn’t know himself anymore. He was confused. And he needed her to make the confusion go away, because when he was with this Slayer nothing else mattered. And he needed her to help him forget because nothing else seemed to be working.


Two months of nothing, nothing but unexplainable change and disappointments. And yet just like every other night he stared at the bed in front of him, debating whether or not he’ll cave and climb into it. Which he will, but it doesn’t make the process any easier.


He was weak.

But he couldn’t give up. Not yet. Not when she had cared. Not when she had treated him better than second best. And not until he figured out what was going on. Because until then, he couldn’t confront his feelings. He couldn’t understand them. He wouldn’t know if it was real or some illusion cast by a spell.


Until then he was setting himself up for a fall. But he didn’t care. He just climbed into bed and slept to dream. Just like he did every other night. It was the only thing that made any sense anymore.


***


Buffy wasn’t completely stupid. She knew perfectly well that she couldn’t play avoid-o girl forever. That it would eventually come back to bite her in her fashionably covered behind. But then again, was it even really her fault? How was one girl suppose to handle the enormous amount of pressure that came with being the one and only Vampire Slayer?


She just wanted a normal life, which in her opinion wasn’t to much to ask for. She wanted her parents to not think she was crazy. She wanted friends that didn’t think she was majorly weird. And she really wanted to stop seeing vampires around every corner.


Her mother just had to move to the Hellmouth, the one place where she couldn’t rest, the one place where demons and the supernatural would always swarm. One lousy day in some sorry excuse of a town and she was already thrust back into the world that she so desperately tried to run from.


Major suckage right there.


Was a little more time too much to ask for? Because she needed it. Maybe get the chance to ease back into the slayage, little by little while she established her place at Sunnydale high. Give her the chance to get settled in, and maybe raise her grades a tad so her mother didn’t think she was a complete failure.


She was so tired of being a failure.


The answer though wouldn’t change. She could moan all she wanted, but she knew she wouldn’t just sit back and do nothing. She couldn’t. Even when she was retired she still did a little something if she came across a quarrel. Then she just pretended it didn’t happen to keep the illusion, the denial going strong. It made her feel normal.


She wasn’t normal. She would never be normal.


Buffy’s eyes strayed to her bed. She had stopped being avoid-o girl now, she had fully embraced her duty, to an extent anyway, so she could. She could climb under the covers, fall asleep and dream of her grove, never having to worry about nightmares.



She could have peace again.


In that little grove with her vampire, she felt surprisingly safe. In the grove there were no worries, just them. They were all that mattered. The dreams made her happy, made her forget, made everything bearable.


And she ignored them.


As far as she was concerned they were a part of that world she was trying to avoid, vampires being the creatures she slayed and all, even if she didn’t feel like slaying that particular vampire. Point of the matter was the dreams, the vampire, they were associated with her life as a Slayer. And she wanted to have nothing to do with that, even if they gave her a good feeling.


Which was totally weird. She was a Vampire Slayer, she should so not like, or even tolerate a vampire, even if he was just in her dream world.


Did that make her a bad Slayer? Probably.


Better to just avoid the whole thing. Right. Cause if not, she had a feeling these dreams of hers could get her in a whole mess of trouble. It didn’t matter that for a short time she got some form of peace, some type of rest, some sort of satisfaction out of the whole thing. It was a whole road of badness. It was not of the good.

Not that she cared.


She missed him. God help her, but she did.


The dreams were nice, made her feel good. It felt right. And when she didn’t dream, a part of her felt almost empty. It would take all her willpower not to dream of the wooded grove. Her nights were filled with little sleep and lots of tossing, turning, and tangled sheets. Peace was hard to find without the dreams. But she hadn’t given in. That, at the time, hadn’t been her life.


But now it was. So why shouldn’t she give in?


She knew the answer. She knew it was wrong. Vampire equals evil and all things bad. That had been drilled into her head since she had first picked up a stake. The thing was, she didn’t think he was bad. He was her vampire. She could feel it, and when she was with him everything else faded away. It was a good feeling.


And that was the scary part. She forgot. What kind of person, no, what kind of Slayer did that make her. Even if only in her sleep, she was giving into a feeling that was so powerful that she forgot everything else around her.


It was an excuse. Who cared. The fact of the matter was by dreaming she wasn’t hurting anybody. Except perhaps herself.


She had wanted a reason not to. But now she didn’t need one, she just needed him.


That night she would sleep to dream.

Chapter Two

Caught up, in life
Losing all my friends
Family has tried, to heal all my addictions
Tragic it seems, to be alone again
I'm giving in ... to you

Take me under
I'm giving in to you
I'm dying tonight
I'm giving in to you
Watch me crumble
I'm giving in to you
I'm crying tonight
I'm giving in to you
“Giving In” - Adema


She was there and Spike was able to sigh in relief. She was okay. She had come back. Everything was alright again. Spike felt the weight lift from his chest, he could breathe the air he didn’t need again. Everything wasn’t so hard anymore. It was better, and all because she was there.


Stupid bint. He wanted to strangle her silly. It wasn't fair of her, to put him, them, through such torture.


But she didn’t know, she still didn’t understand. And if she did, he was pretty sure it would scare her off. She had to figure it out on her own. No matter how much he wanted to tell her, to find her, and figure out what it was all about, the only way for it to work was if she figured it out on her own.


She was a stubborn one alright.


He laid himself down beside her and glanced at the stars that she was staring at so intensely. He was close to her again. He felt the peace wash over him. It was as it should be, they were together. But quiet time was over, and Spike wanted answers. He deserved that much.


“Long time, no see, pet.” She didn’t respond, just continued to stare at the tiny specks of light in the sky. Spike refused to be ignored. “Care to give a bloke an explanation?”


“Doesn’t matter.”


Doesn’t matter. Was she daft. Of course it did. You can’t just avoid a bloke for a few months and then show up and expect everything to be peachy keen. Gotta work it out. It won't just go away because you wish it.


Besides how could he help her, if she didn’t open up? And he wanted to help her. He could feel the pain radiating off her. There was so much of it. He itched to help her.


He couldn’t tell her that though. So instead he turned to his side and propped his head on his elbow. It was a very non-vampire type thing to do, but he thought it might help her to relax. “Humor me.”


“Everything spiraled out of control. I needed things to be normal.”


He felt the stab. He was one of those things. He wasn’t normal. He had caused her pain. “Something I’m not.”


“No.” She denied. “But you are a part of the world I was trying to avoid.”


He suddenly understood. She had given up. Stopped doing her sacred duty, and as a vampire he was a reminder of that. A reminder of the life she didn’t want. It hurt to think about it. More than he liked to admit.


“And?” He prompted her with the urge for her to continue.


“I’m not anymore.” She said simply, before turning on her side to mimic his position. She looked at him for a few moments, her eyes laced with what looked like guilt. Her intent was clear. It hadn’t been because she hated him, she still cared. “I am sorry though, for what it’s worth.”


Spike so desperately wanted more. Wanted her to tell him what she was thinking, tell him what was going through that pretty little head of hers. But he couldn’t ask, because to do so would break her illusion. Something he wasn’t ready to do. Something she wasn’t ready for. So for now, he had to play to her terms.


“Forgive and forget,” he muttered. It wouldn’t do to dwell. He could only give her what she needed. And she needed, at this moment, to forget the last two months. She didn’t understand, and it would probably be quite a bit till she did. She was delicate, confused and terrified of the world around them, and he knew she used these dreams as an outlet. They both did, because precious little made sense in their worlds anymore. And what did, was here. They were what they needed. He may not understand it, and a part of him disliked what he was feeling with a hatred so large that it wasn't fair to her. But he still needed it, needed her. So he couldn’t push, because to do so meant he would lose her. He already had, and it had hurt, an ache that he had been unable to ignore or push away.


So he couldn’t push. Not yet. And maybe not ever. It wasn’t worth it.


She gave him a smile that he could have sworn melted his insides and snuggled into him, before resuming her task of gazing at the stars. Tonight they didn’t need words, just each other.


***


Buffy hated lectures. Especially lectures about vampires and demons. And don’t get her started on the lectures about the history of said creatures. She was a Slayer. She didn’t need to know how they got here, she just needed to know how to kill them. She wasn’t going to sit back and think about all their past accomplishments while shoving a stake through their heart. That would be distracting. And distractions were a no-no.


But apparently she had let the secret out and now Giles, the new, much stuffier Watcher, had decided that a nice shiny lecture was needed for the sake of Xander and Willow. The two had gotten themselves knee deep into her little world. The fact that Buffy had to sit here and listen as Giles rambled about stuff she had heard a million times now was totally not fair.


It wasn’t her fault that kids in this town were too nosey for their own good. Didn’t people ever hear the expression mind your own business.


Other than that, they were alright. Much nicer than the kids that she use to hang out with at Hermy. She figured if they didn’t run screaming after this, they might be able to make nice with a pretty new friendship.


“This world is older than any of you know. Contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a
paradise. . .”


Paradise. Now that was nice. Totally better then some snooty Hellmouth. She should go there.


Oh, oh, oh. Sleep totally equaled paradise, or as close as she would ever get.


She had way too much energy, Buffy decided. All thanks to her brand new sleeping pattern that actually involved a decent nights sleep minus the nightmares and uncomfortable thoughts. Plus her lack of needing to curl up into a ball and resume sleeping was not good for lectures. She didn't want to sit here and listen, she wanted to do, well, something. Something that involved exercise and fun.


Plus fun, good for making the time pass faster. And faster time passing meant total night fallage. And. .


And she had officially lost it, what teenager looks forward to sleeping.


Well they would, if they met the total cutie that haunted her dreams. Ha.


“.... All that remains of the old ones are vestiges, certain magicks, certain creatures...”


Boring.


“And vampires.” Buffy added. Can’t forget those vampires, who are pretty much evil. Well, most of the time. She suddenly resisted the urge to giggle. She couldn’t giggle, she was way past that stage of her life.


It was weird. She should be majorly with the bad moodiness right now. But she was happy. Way happy. Almost in an abnormal way. She hadn’t felt that emotion, this fully, for a long time. It was nice.


Xander and Willow, on the other hand, weren’t happy. They were freaked, and who could blame them. “No. No, th-those weren't vampires,” replied Buffy when Willow had mentioned the creatures they had run into last night. Which was a lie of course. You’d have to blind not to figure that out. “Those were just guys in thundering need of a facial. Or maybe they had rabies. It could have been rabies.” Buffy had seen Spike’s bumpies, a few times actually. And for a vampire, he had been kind of cute. Bad thoughts. “A-and that guy turning to dust? Just a trick of the light.” Xander gave her a look that said he didn’t buy it. She sighed and gave in; these kids here were too nosey for their own good. “That's exactly what I said the first time I saw a vampire. Well, after I was done with the screaming part.”


“Oh, I, I need to sit down,” said Willow nervously. Which, in turn, caused Buffy the need to point out the fact that the red head was indeed already sitting down.


Giles went back into lecture mode and Buffy once again let her mind wander. It wasn’t her job to know about the history, she just needed to slay them. Besides she needed some major self reflection time.


She was giddy after having a dream about a vampire. Something that was not of the good. It wasn’t done, she shouldn’t have feelings for her mortal enemy, even if he was just apart of a dream. That was what the very tiny, sensible, I’m a good girl that likes to follow the rules told her. And so it was pretty obvious just how small that part really was. Buffy Summers follow the rules. Come on.


She was in a good mood. And this was where she got stuck and that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach started. The feeling that told her that she was missing something so big that it was probably glaring her in the face, and she still missed it because she was allowing herself to be blind to the effects that these dreams had on her. They made her happy. Which was fine. Dreams should be happy, but she didn’t think they made you this happy. This was too happy to be caused by a simple dream.


It was big. She could feel it.


Bottom line, she was confused. And the more she thought about it, the more her smile faded. In the end, like everything else, it was just too good to be true.


Only bad things could come of self-reflection and lectures made by Giles.

Chapter Three

Prophecy Girl

I'm just so tired
wont you sing me to sleep
and fly through my dreams
so I can hitch a ride with you tonight
and get away from this place
have a new name and face
I just ain't the same without you in my life
View From Heaven - Yellow Card

Tomorrow night Buffy will face the Master, and she will die.


Over and over, those words repeated in her head. Tomorrow night she would die. She had no choice. It was her duty and she was supposed to be a good little Slayer and take it with a smile and a nod. It was bad enough knowing that any fight could be her last, but to know which fight it would be and when, was just that much worse. How was she just supposed to walk into it, and not be scared?


She was terrified, and she didn’t even have a choice. That had been taken from her a long time ago. She had to go in and act like she didn’t have a care in the world. Accept her sacred duty for what it was and die for it, allowing the new Slayer to be called and take her place.


How could they possibly ask that of her?


She needed William. She hoped he wasn’t late. Not tonight. They didn’t have time to waste. Seconds ticked by faster and faster as she stared at her alarm clock until finally she had to turn it face down. There would never be enough time.


It had been three months and she still allowed herself to enter the grove each night. And just like her, he, or as he told her to call him, William, eventually came through the thick pile of trees. Some nights they spent in complete silence, just enjoying the other’s company. And other nights they talked about anything and everything. She had told William things she had never told anyone else. Things she could never imagine telling anyone else. She told him everything.


He was her rock, her foundation, and she clung to him like he was the last thing on earth. She needed him. He was one of the few good things she had left in the world.


She knew that these dreams were more than just, well, dreams. She had figured that out when the really cute guy named Owen, who was a total hottie and absolute sweetheart, had asked her out. She didn’t even take the time to think about it, didn’t take the time to soften the blow, she just blurted out a short no and stormed out of the library. Just the thought had disgusted her. Talk about over-reacting. She apologized the next day, but it still had been incredibly rude; something that, at the time, had been really hard for her to admit.


After that she realized, after close examination, that she found no other guys attractive. She didn’t even like the souled vampire named Angel. No desire - she wasn’t even in like with another guy besides the vampire named William who resided only in her dreams. She even felt a tiny twinge of guilt for thinking about trying to like another guy.


That right there had to mean something of the supernatural. You shouldn’t feel guilty for contemplating cheating on some guy you only ever saw in your dreams. In fact she shouldn’t even feel like she was cheating - it wasn’t like he was her boyfriend or anything.


Totally weird.


She had contemplated telling Giles. She thought perhaps it was some Slayer gift thing. We’ll give you a full nights sleep and in return you focus totally and completely on slaying. You know, because then you won’t be distracted by the boys.


Totally bizarre theory, she figured, but with the things she saw every night, Buffy had come to expect the impossible. So really, it was as good a theory as anything else.


Just like the fact that she knew her dreams were more than dreams, but she still pretended they weren’t just so her perfect illusion wouldn’t be ruined. More than a dream meant making it more complicated. The dreams were supposed to be her getaway peace type thing, and there would be no way she would be ruining that any time soon. So she would just continue to pretend. It was easier that way, her life was already complicated enough, let’s not make it more so. That was her motto.


Plus, the simple thought of telling Giles freaked her out. Really freaked her out, borderline panic attacks, at just the thought of all his possible reactions.


He would think that she was a horrible person for crushing on a vampire. Which made her mad, because what right did he have to possess such an opinion? He could call her a bad Slayer. Which he already kind of did. He could even have her killed. Okay that last thought was on the small side of extreme, especially seeing as she was dying tomorrow anyway, but who knew what those creepy Council guys were capable of.


She climbed into bed. Tomorrow she would save the world, she had no choice. But tonight, tonight, she needed William. There was no reason to even think of anything else, it’s not like it even mattered anymore. After all, she was going to die tomorrow, and as Giles told it, there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to change that fact.


***


The feeling had been building within him all day. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his bones that something horrible was about to happen. He stepped into the grove that night with a feeling of apprehension. He had no idea what to expect.


She was in his arms, hugging him, before he could even process the fact that she was there. The feeling got worse.


“Miss me, pet?” He said with a small smirk as he returned the hug, holding her tightly to him. Maybe, just maybe, he was overreacting. What bad could possibly come from a hug?


He breathed in her scent. She smelled like home. She hugged him tighter, and it wasn’t hard for him to pick up on her fear. It was everywhere. Something was most definitely wrong.


“What’s wrong?” She just shook her head and clung to him, if possible, even harder. “What’s wrong, luv?” Spike repeated.


“It’s over,” she said.


Over? What the hell. What was she doing? Breaking up with him, or breaking up whatever messed up definition of a relationship they had? Not quite sure how it works there.


She was giving up. The way she stood, the way she was clinging to him so desperately, her fear. It all meant the same thing. She was giving up, giving in, what the fuck ever. But when it came down to it, she was the shell of a defeated Slayer. And he should know, he fought and killed enough of ‘em to understand that look. But sod everything if he was going to let her get away with that. She had done it once and gotten off scot free last time. He wasn’t going to let it go that way again. No bloody way. Spike remembered how much it hurt, and he refused to let him, or her go through that again. Not gonna happen.


Spike shook his head. “No,” he said firmly.


“I don’t have a choice.”


Choice? This girl really was thick. Did she really lack that much hope, or had she given up her free will? Of course she had a choice.


“There’s a prophecy,” she added a second later.


Prophecy. Now there was a mood killer. Fucking piece of paper with cryptic words that tell you what may or may not come to pass. In his years he had seen many a prophecy thwarted. And many more follow through word for word. There was always hope though, always a way around if you looked hard enough. Destiny and fate were a load of crock in Spike’s opinion. You make your own path in life, plain and simple. He would make sure she did the same.


But was she right? She didn’t choose to be the Slayer, she was hand picked. Did that make her just a target of the Fates to do with her what they will? They better hope not; they would have Spike, William the Bloody to answer to then.


“Tomorrow night,” she started, her voice low and shaky. “Tomorrow night, I die.”


The feeling of impending doom hit full force. If he had been alive and possessed the ability to breathe, Spike would have suddenly found himself without the necessary oxygen. He had felt it all day, felt the coming danger, and now that he knew what it meant, it was that much worse.


It wasn’t a dream any longer. It was his worst nightmare.


He felt it, felt it in his bones that the end was coming. She had given in. Accepted her fate, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t even help her. For the first time in a long time he felt helpless.


“William?” She was looking at him, and Spike knew she was expecting him to make it better for her. But how could he? He was helpless against the forces. There was no time. It was all happening so fast and crumbling down around him. Eventually they would have to wake up, and then there would be nothing. He didn’t know how to help her.


“What? How?”


“The Master. It’s a pretty lame prophecy, on many levels might I add. But it’s pretty clear on the fact that I get to visit the land of the dead.”


She was joking, making light out of something dark. It annoyed him, but he also knew that she was doing it because she was terrified. Scared of what was about to come, but she wanted to put on a brave face because either way it wouldn’t make a difference. She needed to make it easier.


She had given up. He couldn’t help her; he couldn’t even make it better.


“Don’t go,” hissed Spike, his hands clutching her arms tightly. He was desperate and just as scared as her.


“No choice. Gave that power up the day whoever it was decided to choose me as their little pawn,” she said, the pain clear in her eyes.


“Then. . .” Straws. He was grabbing at straws.


She cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it. The what ifs - it won’t help. The fact of the matter is, I knew that eventually it would happen. Dying young is part of the package; I just didn’t realize it would be this soon.” Her voice was bitter, but then it softened as she continued. “I just want one last night with you, William. Like it was before. Please.”


What the lady wants, the lady gets.


“Alright.” He sighed, defeated. He could have fought it, made up some crazy plan to save her, but they both knew it wouldn’t help. And it wouldn’t do for her to see him in pain like that, desperate to help her. She was scared enough for herself, and she needed the support. She expected him to be that support. And so that’s what he would be for her. He could do nothing else.


Leading her to the middle of the grove, they laid down just like they always did, in each other’s arms. Their laughs and smiles were forced despite the fact that they each promised to pretend nothing was amiss. But it was, and neither could stop thinking about what might happen the next day - what would happen.


Paradise was over. Paradise didn’t exist.

Chapter Four

feel your fire,
when its cold in my heart
and things sorta start
remindin' me of my last night with you
I only need one more day
just one more chance to say
I wish that I had gone up with you too
View from Heaven - Yellowcard


Nothing.


He felt absolutely nothing. Everything was missing. The pull was gone, no longer existent, and nothing else was there to him. He felt nothing now.


She was gone.


He hadn’t saved her. Couldn’t even try. He had failed.


The day had been torture, knowing what was coming, knowing what was about to happen and not being able to do anything about it. The sunlight glared at him through the cracks in the curtains, taunting him, as if the knowledge he already possessed wasn’t enough to do so. He paced. He even grabbed the keys to the Desoto several times and made it half way down the street before turning around and resuming his never ending walk back and forth across the bedroom floor.


Plan after plan filled his head as he thought about the situation at hand. But none of it was good enough. He couldn’t get to her. He had wasted too much time dancing around her in the effort to console her, all the while refusing to follow his instincts. His instinct to find her and see her face to face.


He didn’t know where she was. He had no sodding clue.


Oh, he asked. Casually slid the question in one of their brief conversations the night before. She responded with a long, hard look and then a quick change of the subject. She knew. She must have. He knew, she knew, and she must know that he knew. They both knew and they hadn’t done a bloody thing about it. She had to sit on that high horse of hers, and now it was too late to do anything.


Too late.


Stubborn bint.


He had a faint connection with the Master, them being family and all. But to follow that would require concentration, patience, and a whole bunch of time. Time that he didn’t have. Time he never had. Time he never would.


It was over. And like she said, the “what ifs” didn’t matter. It was just a waste of energy thinking about what could be done, stupid to beat yourself up over something you couldn’t change.


He had failed.


In the end, all of it was a dead end. He had failed her. He couldn’t protect her.


Drusilla was nowhere to be seen. She had left in a tizzy yesterday, crying and whining about who knew what, and he was glad. Happy he didn’t have to listen to her praise her Daddy and moan about the whispers in her ear. She didn’t care. At least not about him. For over a hundred years he had loved her with every part of himself, and she had done nothing but throw it back in his face. She belonged to Angelus.


And if Drusilla did care, she certainly didn’t care as much as his golden girl. Not nearly so. In the end he belonged to her; Drusilla was simply a pawn in getting him there. He knew that now, felt it in all he had. He had felt the pull. The pull that now wanted him to do nothing more but walk into the sun, and follow his girl into the life beyond.


He was nothing. There was nothing left for him. She had been it. And he had failed. His girl was gone. And every part of him mourned. William. The demon. And Spike - the mixture of them both. She was gone before something could even begin.


Which was probably why. Everything about what they experienced was wrong, completely and totally wrong. She was a slayer that killed his kind. He was a vampire that had killed two of hers. He shouldn’t feel drawn to her for any other reason than the want to kill her, to taste her blood. Most of which, minus the blood tasting, is the farthest thing from his mind when he’s with her.


The logical part of him knows it’s wrong, but the other part, the much bigger part doesn’t care. The bigger part doesn’t see anything wrong with it, likes it, wants it. The demon wants it, wants her, likes her. The demon practically purrs in contentment when he’s with her.


There wasn't a part of him that didn't want her. Didn't need her. It scared the hell out of him, and yet he wanted it with every fiber of his being. Anything had to be better than this feeling of emptiness. Anything.


He had no idea what had happened to him. He just knew that he wanted it back. Wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, before she went away. This hurt too much and he needed her to make the pain go away. But she wasn’t there, she wasn’t anywhere, and so there he was, left as a shell of what he once was.


Nothing.


He wanted to curl up in the bed and dream of the grove. He wanted to press soft kisses against her golden head and whisper reassurances in her ear.


But he didn’t. Because he knew she wouldn’t be there. And he didn’t want to give himself false hope. She didn’t get any of that. He didn’t deserve to hope.


Spike sank into the chair across from his bed. The need to slip under the covers was growing stronger. Maybe she had decided not to; maybe she had decided to rebel. Maybe, just maybe, she had decided to hell with it.


But he knew that wasn’t so. He felt nothing. Nothing but the emptiness. It was the worst feeling in the world, and he knew he deserved every second of it. He had failed her.


The one person who had cared more than anyone he had ever met was gone. The person he trusted with his secrets, the person who trusted him with hers was gone. She had left nothing in her place. And he understood. His purpose was no more. Now, he was just a shell.


Every part of him wept. And that night, when he finally closed his eyes, he still dreamt of the grove. It was all of her he had left. It was all he could think to do.

Chapter Five


If tomorrow never comes
I would want just one thing
I would tell it to the stars and the sun
I would write it for the world to see
And it's you
The light changes when you're in the room
Oh it's you
Oh it's you
It’s You - Michelle Branch


“Hey now, none of that,” Buffy whispered, her thumbs wiping at his tears. Spike raised his eyes to hers in surprise. A small smile graced her features.


She was there. And she was very real. He could feel it. It suddenly wasn’t so empty. Nothing had replaced something.


She had come back from beyond the grave.


“How?” He grasped her hand with his. He needed to feel her. He needed to reassure himself that she was there. It was too surreal.


“I’m like a cat, you know, with the multiple lives thing and all,” she quipped. He began checking her for injuries.


He was stunned. It was a miracle. It could only be described as a miracle. He wanted to pinch himself to see if it hurt, but then he remembered he was already dreaming.


“But you . . . ” Spike couldn’t bring himself to say the word. “I felt it.”


“For like a minute. The miracle of C.P.R.”


“And the Master?” Spike questioned.


“A pile of dust,” she said happily. He pulled her hair back from her neck, having caught a glimpse of something he hoped wasn’t what he thought it was. “Completely threw him for a loop when I came back. I wish you could have seen his face.”


Spike did too. Then he could have smashed it in a few times. He could have ripped a few of his limbs off for daring to touch his girl. The ancient vamp had it coming and a lot more too.


“He bit you.” He fingered the mark on her neck causing her to shudder.


She nodded regretfully. “But he just took a bit.” It was almost cute how after all she had been through that night she was the one reassuring him.


“He bit you.” He was fixated on that part. Someone other than him had touched her. Had bitten her. Had drunk her blood, and then killed her. A crime if there ever was one. Spike almost wished the Master wasn’t dust so that he could have the pleasure of doing him in himself. Family or not, Spike would show him who belonged to whom. Buffy belonged to him - no one else should know the pleasure of touching her, or the sweet ambrosia of her blood. He would have shown no mercy. The wanker hadn’t deserved it.


He ran his fingers over the mark again, unable to force his eyes away from the sight. “Let me fix it for you,” he whispered. Spike hoped she would let him. He couldn’t stand knowing that someone had marked her, someone so unworthy of doing so, someone who wasn’t him. It tore him up inside, angered and saddened him at the same time to know that he wasn’t the first - that he wasn’t the only one.


She nodded, sensing how important it was to him.


He stepped behind her, peppering her neck with soft kisses. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Replace the Master’s mark with his own, and let the world know exactly to whom the girl in front of him belonged.


Spike knew there was the chance that it wouldn’t work. He feared it even. Maybe his marks wouldn’t penetrate her flesh, or perhaps it would fade. Who knew what the effect of a dream bite could be. And then there was the chance - and the greater chance in his opinion - that the marks did stick. She could be just giving in to make him feel better; he had been kind of whiny earlier. She might not understand the effects, the feelings, the meaning that went behind a vampire’s bite. It was a process so richly complicated that not many outside the vampire community understood it. And . . .


He was over thinking this way too much. He asked, she agreed, it was her own sodding fault if she didn’t like the results. Besides if she was still in denial, maybe this will be her big, flashy clue.


He was evil. Take. Want. Have. Meaning she was lucky she even had the chance to be asked permission.


He sank his fangs into her neck, took a sip of her heavenly blood, and then caressed the new wound gently with his tongue to seal it. He didn’t risk lingering. His emotions and senses were already so magnified within this world that he feared loss of control. Quick and painless with no risks. He didn’t want to risk hurting her, accidentally or otherwise. She had already been through enough.


He really needed to stop thinking so much. She was pressed against him, her warmth engulfing him, and her eyes were closed in content. He hadn’t been wrong. She had wanted it.


“All better?”


“Much,” she replied happily. She was happy. He had made her happy. That was enough for him.


***


Buffy hung up the phone. Willow was on her way over. It was time for a girl talk with her best friend. Time to get a different perspective. She just hoped it wasn’t a mistake.


She was as nervous as hell.


She should have expected it. That morning, when she woke up, she had fingered the bite mark on her neck, just as she had done the previous night before going to sleep. Then she had been filled with a sense of dread. And now? Now it was like a sense of peace washed over her. Panic filled her as she tried to figure out what that might mean. She touched the mark a third time, and once again that peaceful feeling washed over her.


It left no doubt in her mind, somehow, William’s bite had replaced the Master’s.



Buffy hated to think how it was possible. Think of what else was possible. Because in all honesty she had no clue. It could be a set up, each night she could be walking into a death trap and not know it. It didn’t feel like she was - but as much as she hated to think it, she couldn’t deny the possibility.


She didn’t understand what it meant. How it happened. What the consequences would be.


She was proud to bear his mark. It meant something, something really important. It was important to William, and that made it important to her.


It was also another glaring reminder of what he was. A reminder of the dreams that she had once hoped were nothing more than dreams.


She was confused. She knew it was a big deal, but she didn’t feel like it was. It didn’t feel like it should be.


She needed to tell someone. And the only person she could trust was Willow. She was the only one Buffy knew who wouldn’t be judgmental. Willow wouldn’t frown down on her, but would just look at it from a fresh perspective. She would offer her advice, tell her what she thought, and maybe even what to do.


At least that was what she hoped would happen.


Buffy couldn’t think straight, her head and thoughts went in nothing but dizzy circles whenever she thought about it. So she needed someone else to do the thinking for her. She needed someone to make things clear. Or maybe just someone to listen to her as she made the attempt to organize her thoughts.


Basically she needed to borrow Willow’s ear for the afternoon.


“What’s the big?” asked Willow and Buffy suddenly noticed that she was in the room.


Thank God for best friends.


Shutting the door behind the red head, she ushered her to the bed and sat beside her. “I need to tell you something,” said Buffy seriously.


Willow looked nervous. “Is everything okay? You’re not going to die again are you? You would think you
would get a break in between prophecies. Unless you have a fatal disease. Oh my gosh, you don’t, do you? And I’m rambling aren’t I?”


“A bit. But no, nothing like that,” assured Buffy. Deciding that physical evidence was always a plus, she pulled her hair from her neck. She was pretty sure it would get Willow’s mind off her death and onto something a little less bad. “What do you think this is?”


“The place where the Master bit you,” guessed Willow, she looked confused. “Oh ew, it’s not infected is it? Are you turning into a Vampire?”


“This isn’t the Master’s bite, Wills.”


Willow scrunched her nose in what looked like more confusion. Not that Buffy blamed her; she was over her head with the confusion. “Another vamp got you? Did you tell Giles?”


“I can’t. You can’t.” Buffy focused her eyes on Willow’s, intent on making sure she was understood.
“What I tell you can’t leave this room. Not a peep, Willow.”


“Cross my heart.”


“Not a word.”


“I promise, Buffy, not a word,” said the red head seriously. “Now tell me. You’re scaring me.”


“I have these dreams . . . ”


“Slayer dreams?”


“I don’t know. Maybe,” said Buffy. “They started after I was called, so they’re probably related. They’re definitely more than dreams though.”


“But you don’t think they’re visions?”


“No.” She paused and took a deep breath. Buffy could tell she had Willow’s full attention. She wanted to trust her with this. But she was still nervous. This was something so deeply personal that a part of her wanted to keep it that way, keep it in the grove that existed only in her mind, never allowing it to see the light of the real world. There it was safe, they were safe, she was safe. But she knew that she needed to tell someone else, and so she plunged on before she lost her nerve completely. “It’s always the same place - a clearing in the middle of the woods. And there’s a vampire . . . ”


“Angel?” questioned Willow with a teasing smile.


“Ew, no.” Buffy shuddered. “Someone else.”


“Okay then. Does he try to kill you? Fight you? The usual vampire stuff.”


Buffy shook her head. Willow wasn’t getting it and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to. But she continued on anyway, she needed to get this off her chest. “No, we usually just talk about things.”


“I don’t understand,” stated Willow.


“They have an affect on me,” admitted Buffy. “They make me happy. Other guys that aren’t him don’t do
it for me, just the thought makes me feel guilty.”


“You’re crushing on a dream guy?” Willow questioned, she had that look that said that’s clearly insane. Buffy hated that look more than anything.


“That’s the thing Willow. He’s not a dream guy. This bite is his, not the Master’s.”


“Buffy . . . ”


“No. No. I get that you think it’s crazy.” Willow raised her eyebrow. “But last night I touched it, and this cold feeling engulfed me. Nothing but dread. But this morning when I touched the mark again, it was the opposite. Peace and warmth, you know. And last night, in my dream, William bit me, over the Master’s mark. How can you possibly explain that?”


Willow wasn’t buying it. She didn’t understand. She had a look of sympathy and sorrow on her face that clearly said everything was going to be okay. That she would get her friend through this obvious crisis. Only she couldn’t, because no matter what Buffy was going to say, Willow wasn’t going to believe her. She had already made the decision not to the moment it got weird. It defied the logic that Willow liked to cling to.


How could she have been so stupid? She should have known. Buffy had made a mistake, and now she had to figure out what the possible repercussions might be.


“Considering what you were feeling at the time, Buffy,” tried Willow, who always had to be logical. “Maybe you wanted so badly for yourself to be rid of any reminder of the Master that you fabricated this dream so you could feel better when you looked at the mark.”


“And everything else,” countered Buffy, desperate to prove her wrong, even though a part of her knew that now there was no changing Willow’s mind. They had gotten past that point - Willow already had a theory and everything. But she had to try, had to make the attempt to correct her error and regain her footing.


She had so desperately wanted someone who would just listen. Listen and understand. That was all.


“Maybe it’s a way to protect yourself Buffy. A way for your body to rejuvenate - by creating this thing in your head that’s perfectly real to you, you get what you need, a good feeling, a good night’s sleep, and less chance of getting hurt. You go through so much, Buffy, it could just be your body subconsciously playing hero for you while you go out and do it for everyone else.”


It was a good theory. Made a lot of sense, she had to give her that. But Buffy felt deep in her bones that it was real, had known it for a while. But like Willow was now, she had played the part of denial girl. Bottom line - the feelings coursing through her, the physical presence he provided, it left any other possible explanation in the dust.


“I’m not crazy, Willow.”


“And I’m not saying that,” assured the red head. “The mind works in mysterious ways. It’s complex.”


A part of her wanted to yell, just in the effort to get her point across. But Buffy knew she couldn’t, she had already let her big secret out of the bag and been shot down. She couldn’t risk exposing herself more - she knew it would only make the situation worse in Willow’s eyes, and then she might decide to go to someone else. Something that could definitely not happen. Not now.


Perhaps a calmer approach. One last try. She wanted so desperately for her friend to believe her. Because if Willow didn’t, it left her that much more vulnerable. It once again opened up the possibility that she was crazy, that the thing she had been clinging to so desperately in the last few months was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.


And wasn’t that what she had wanted? The dreams to be just that - dreams. That’s what she had told herself. The idea that she had clung to, if only to keep the complicated situation simple. Not real meant that she wouldn’t get hurt. Not real meant only good things would come of it.


But she was the Slayer. She was supposed to be brave, not run away. She knew though, if she let him, he could break her heart to the point where it could never be put back together. Perhaps such a thing might be worth the risk.


That didn’t make it any easier though. Far from it. Which was why she had wanted to talk to Willow. Why hadn’t she thought of the fact that Willow would take a different perspective than the one Buffy wanted her to have?


“It’s more than that, Willow. Every time I go into that clearing, every time I think about it, I can feel it. It’s so much more than that. He’s mine Willow. He was made for me.” Willow had clearly run out of words because she just looked at her with the same sad expression. She wished she could have done a better job of explaining what she felt. Find the right words for the emotions coursing through her, but she didn’t understand them, not as much as she would like. And she knew that was causing a failure in communication. She was too emotional. She wasn’t thinking clearly. The dreams did that to her. “I know what it is. I don’t understand it, and it confuses the hell out of me, but I know what it is. As my friend I had hoped you would get that, but I guess I was wrong.”


“You just went through something horrible, Buffy. Something horrific,” said Willow, her voice clearly sympathetic. Buffy felt the tears begin to form behind her eyes. She had failed. Willow wasn’t going to understand. “You just need some rest, after that, I think then you’ll see just how insane it sounds. You just need to distance yourself from it.”


“Wills, you don’t get it . . . ”


“Rest. We’ll talk about it later. Distance will be good for you right now,” said the red head before letting herself out of the room.


It felt like betrayal. Like someone had stabbed her in the back, even though she knew it wasn’t so. But it didn’t change her mind any, just taught her that she had to be careful. That perhaps this secret was better left in the grove, still unready for the outside world.


She had learned her lesson.

Chapter Six

Dirty conscience in my head
Naked dreams that go unsaid
You have put this fear in me
Why won't you just let me be

Leave me on this bed of flames
Life can never be the same
All that's left is guilt and shame
I'm not sorry
“Bed of Flames” - Hungry Lucy


Two Slayers. The concept had a nice ring to it. There was no denying the positives that could come out of it. With two Slayers, more ground could be covered, as well as more demons slain. It would make the world that much safer. So yes, it had it's possibilities.


But, as with all good things, one could not forget the negative aspects. It upset the carefully selected balance. Balance played a very important part in nature, upsetting it could have disastrous repercussions. There was only one girl for a reason. If there were two, who was there to say that there couldn't be three, or four, and so on until the demon world was revealed to regular society, creating pandemonium? One girl was fairly simple to control; more and it got harder. It increased the risk of possibly being exposed.


Although, on her own, Buffy Summers had done an excellent job of that, it seemed. According to her Watcher, four civilians already knew of her calling. The number could only be expected to increase with time. Single handedly she had also slipped from the Council's grip both before and after she was called. She refused to follow the rules, keep her identity secret, and had managed the impossible by coming back from beyond the grave.


Rupert Giles had also reported that Miss Summers had felt significantly more powerful after waking from her brief demise. The Council knew what that meant, knew the possible ramifications. The part that made her the Slayer was more prominent.


She was stronger. She was more of a threat. The balance that had been created was shifting, and it needed to be closely monitored. If not, the effects could be catastrophic.


The event also led to more questions. Would the Slayer line pass through the both of them now? Or was the existence of two Slayers only a temporary glitch in the long run? Would it weaken the line? Was the power that the formerly deceased girl would have normally passed onto the next Slayer been somehow cut in half? Or was it exactly the same as it was before?


All questions that left Quentin Travers head spinning as he contemplated each possible answer and the effects it could have on future generations.


“Mr. Travers,” came the voice of his secretary through the intercom. “Mr. Hamilton is here to see you. He says that it’s urgent.”


Quentin sighed. It always was. “Send him in.” Travers didn’t even bother to look up from the paperwork laid across his desk when he heard the door creak open. “What is it?”


“The letter, sir,” said Hamilton nervously. “The one you asked me to translate. It’s done, sir.”


Travers head snapped up, giving Hamilton his full attention. It was about time. That mysterious letter sent to the Council from an unnamed source had several of his most trusted colleagues in an uproar for over a week as they worked around the clock to decipher it. It was written in some type of gibberish that certainly couldn’t be described as a language. At least as a human language. “And?”


“It was as you expected, sir? A demonic language. Ethorian to be exact,” stated Hamilton, his tone becoming more excited as he showed off his knowledge. “Anyway, roughly translated, it says . . .” The young man paused for a second, and then held out the paper. “Well, perhaps you should read it for yourself, sir”


Travers looked down at the carefully written print, his eyes widening as he read the words. It was impossible. “Are you certain?” demanded Travers. “Positive that this isn’t a mistake?”


“I’ve checked it several times, sir,” insisted Hamilton.


‘It’s happening at long last. A Slayer is about to find her mate.’ Just the words sent shivers down his spine as he read them.


“Very well,” Travers sighed. “You may go. I trust you will speak of this with no one.”


“Of course not, sir,” Hamilton agreed. He closed the door behind him leaving Quentin to ponder over this new revelation.


One thing was for certain - the carefully selected balance had once again been destroyed.



***

It had been a couple days since Buffy had told Willow about the dreams. Willow hadn’t brought the subject up since except in the form of concerned looks, and Buffy had refused to even mention it.


No one was going to understand. She got that now.


It didn’t lessen her curiosity however. She knew with perfect clarity that there was something more to these ‘dreams’ than met the eye. The effects were now both emotional and physical, making them a much more serious matter, that much more powerful. And while she was almost positive her life wasn’t in any immediate danger, the Slayer in her still needed to find answers. Which was why she was currently sitting in the library reading a book on vampire bites behind the guise of her magazine.


It seemed like just as good a place to start as any. Plus, it had been the easiest to find. And seeing as research wasn’t exactly her thing, she figured she’d start with easy and work her way up. Baby steps.


“Buffy this is a very important matter. You will be leaving the Hellmouth for an extended period of time. Without a guardian what little progress that has been made will be destroyed. The demon population could very likely take advantage of your absence by increasing their numbers ten fold.”


She looked at him with blank eyes and popped her gum.


“Now I realize that visiting your father is very important . . . ”


“Well duh, Giles. It doesn’t happen that often,” said Buffy. “Really. Not often.”


“And I understand. But you have a very important obligation and I would hate to see the progress you’ve made destroyed.”


“No big, Giles. I can handle it. Besides we don’t have to worry about another Apocalypse for a while yet, so it’s not like you’ll be under this big strain while I’m out. It’s all good.”


She turned the page. Could they make the print any smaller? Combine that with the boriness of the dribble they printed, and she was about ready to lose her mind.


Basically vampires liked biting. A lot. Something that any dummy could tell you.


They also had several different types of bites. Different rituals. Different meanings behind their bites. It wasn’t exactly what she was looking for - dream bites and if they were possible - but it was on her way to proving her theory right. That there was something more behind it than a vampire just taking a piece out of you.


If they were going to do that, wouldn’t they just kill you?


She was so confused. Really, who knew that vampires could be so complicated?


She could just ask William, of course. But she didn’t really want to raise his suspicions or anything. There was still the small possibility that he had no clue that these were more than just your average dreams. Meaning there was no need to complicate the situation yet, she just had to do a little extra work.


She would figure it out, and perhaps prove Willow wrong. She was still a little bitter about the red-head not believing her. Willow was smart, but that didn’t always mean that she was right. And Buffy certainly wasn’t as dumb as people might think. She had her moments, but a lot of it was just for show. Besides, sometimes it really annoyed Giles, and annoying Giles always guaranteed a laugh.


“Hey Buff, we got a situation outside,” announced Xander from the library doors. Wondering what could possibly be wrong this time, Buffy sighed and put her book down. Operation “prove Willow wrong and Buffy right” would have to wait till another day. For now, duty called.


“We’ll talk about this later, kay Giles?” shouted Buffy as she ran out the door, pulling her stake from her pocket as she did so.


***


Giles sighed. It was so difficult to get through to that girl. And look, once again she had left a mess on the table for him to clean up. Some trendy teen magazine that she hid behind while she pretended to listen to him.


Not that he wanted to keep her from visiting her father per se, such visits were strongly encouraged. But for her to leave for such an extended period of time was risky, and she needed to understand the possible consequences.


Giles picked up the magazine, quickly discovering that it was not just a tabloid, but that an actual book was hidden behind it. A rare occurrence, usually she slipped the magazine inside the book while she pretended to research, not the other way around. She couldn’t possibly think that he would scold her for attempting to expand her knowledge.


Vampire bites.


Wait. What? He reread the title thinking that perhaps he misread. But no, upon inspection it was still the same. Why on earth would she be studying such a matter? She had never shown an interest in the subject before. Even after the Master had bitten her, she had remained uninterested when he attempted to explain that since she had killed the Master the bite on her neck would have no ill effects.


So what was she doing now, days later, looking into it? And why hadn’t she mentioned something to him earlier if she had questions? She hated having to study if she could simply ask for the answer.


Perhaps there was something that he had overlooked, and she simply didn’t wish to bother him with the matter. But that was absurd, and completely unlike Buffy.


No. He would put it to the back of his mind to ask her about later. There was probably a simple explanation. For now, he had to make a call to the Council. Travers had been quite adamant when he left the message on his answering machine to call him back as soon as possible.

Chapter Seven


I'm only pretty sure that I can't take anymore
Before you take a swing
I wonder what are we fighting for

When I say out loud
I want to get out of this
I wonder is there anything
I'm going to miss

I wonder how it's going to be
“How’s it Gonna Be” - Third Eye Blind




It was a fairly simple move considering that Drusilla left, seemingly weeks ago. Slipped through the cracks without even a moments notice for the one person she had spent over a hundred years with. She had been angry with him, he remembered that. Something about being covered in sunshine, and the stars whispering bad things in her ears. She had said Miss Edith frowned on him.


Spike hadn’t thought she would actually leave, though. There were times when she would stay out all night, till just before dawn while he paced the floor wondering whether it would be worth the risk to go out and look for her, or if he would simply find dust in the wind. Always he would slam the door behind him as he strode into the night worried that he would find her broken but instead always finding her twirling amongst the trees or enjoying the screams of one of her victims. He could never stay angry with her, and so simply led her home gently to keep her from the dangerous sun, cursing inwardly all the way.


This was the first time he had not gone looking for her, only this time because he knew he had no desire to find her. He simply waited, if she wanted, Dru would come home on her own. He should be worried, it wasn’t often that Dru was left to fend for herself. She was still alive though, could feel her through the faint connection, and so for now he had no reason to feel guilty. She had chosen to leave in a huff, he hadn’t kicked her out, didn’t even leave, he wasn’t responsible. She wasn’t his responsibility anymore.


Spike had done his fair share, and in return got nothing.


He waited anyway. A few weeks, maybe a month, he wasn’t really sure, the counting drove him round the bend. All he really wanted to do his was hop into the car and drive until he found his Slayer. But he waited because it was the right thing to do. Drusilla may not have done anything for him recently, but she had given him the most important thing of all: life. Without her, he would have died long ago, a pathetic man who did nothing but write bloody awful poetry. Without her, he would have never come across his sweet Golden Girl.


For years he had been in love with his Dark Princess, devoting his unlife to taking care of her every desire, but that was no longer so. Spike didn’t know when the change happened, when his feelings for her shifted from pure love and devotion to simple obligation, but they had. And he couldn’t force himself to care. A part of him would always love Drusilla, would always care for her, but he knew now what he thought was soul mates was a mere path to reaching his own destiny. Their time had come to an end. He had realized that from the very first dream, Drusilla simply had the courage to act on it first.


He had waited, but he was done with that now. He needed answers, something to explain the changes in the past year, why he was having these dreams and why they affected him so. And he wanted to find Buffy, see her face, touch her skin, and he wanted to do it in reality. And to do that he would have to go out and find the answers, search for the information he had avoided trying to find. And so he closed the door to the run down house behind him, saying good bye to Drusilla and the life of death and bloodshed that he had so eagerly been a part of just a few months ago. It was time to start anew.


***


L.A, was great and all, the lack of a hellmouth being one very obvious reason why, but a part of her had seriously missed Sunnydale. She had missed her mom, her friends, even Giles and his stuffy British attitude. It surprised her how much things had changed since she had first arrived here last September. Sure she was thrust back into the slaying against her will, but even that turned out okay in the end seeing as she acquired some cool friends, and of course, William. She still wished for the normal life in the normal town, but she had also accepted her duty , embracing it with open arms. There was no escaping it.


Her sacred duty had brought her William. That alone made it worth it.


She had been a bit freaked out when the fact that she had died finally sunk in. She had died, as in, she been no longer of the living. That was huge even if it had been only for a minute. Everything with William and his freaky dream bite had happened so fast that she had glossed over the Master part of the evening and straight to the bitey part.


It had eventually hit her though, full force while she was in the grove with William and they had taken to casually discussing something that had to do with kittens when somehow her thoughts took a dark turn and the horrible fact of her brief, but very real death hit her full force. After completely embarrassing herself by sobbing like a baby in his arms, they had decided that ignoring what had happened that night wasn’t doing anyone much good and so they started to talk it out, mostly William listening as she poured her heart out about her most recent death to her worries about dying young and everything she would never get to do. She could tell that often William had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting his thoughts, but he had been a good listener, whispering reassuring words in all the right places. Buffy wasn’t quite sure she would have been able to survive the summer if it hadn’t been for him. He was her rock.


“Hey Buffy, you’re back,” announced Willow, spotting her in the courtyard.


“Yup, yesterday afternoon. Dad dropped me off,” said Buffy happily, her eyes never quite meeting Willow’s. Even after two months she still hadn’t quite forgotten her friends semi-betrayal. “So how was your summer?”


“Boring, very slow, very few vampires,” supplied Xander.


“Oh see, Giles was wrong,” said Buffy.


“There’s one for the record books.”


“So, what about you? How was your summer? Did you slay anything?” Xander questioned rapidly.


“No. Uh, just hung out, partied some, shopping was also a major theme. Got shoes, lots of cool shoes,” said Buffy, nodding some as she did so, remembering how her father had basically bribed with money and his credit cards so she would be out of the house so he could do whatever he did that Buffy didn’t like to mention. Being blissfully unaware, or pretending to be, was of the good.



“A necessary accessary,” agreed Willow.


Xander’s attention had turned to Buffy’s hair, a dreamy look gracing his face. A look that made Buffy feel very uncomfortable. She had hoped Xander would have gotten over his crush by now. After all, she made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t interested last Spring. At least she hoped she had. “I like your hair.” Buffy replied with a girlish giggle not sure how else to react, before deciding a change of subject was in order. “So, how did you guys fare? Did you have any fun without me?”


“No.”


“Yes!”


“What were you doing, Wills?” questioned Xander with a raised brow. “Uh, our summer was kinda yawn worthy. Our biggest excitement was burying the Master.”


“That's right, you missed it.” Willow added. “Giles buried the bones and we poured holy water and we got to wear robes.”


“Very intense. You shoulda been.”


“Ugh, no thank you,” said Buffy, scrunching her nose. The farther away she was from the Master or his bones the better.


“So, have you been sleeping well?” Willow asked suddenly with a vague attempt to keep her tone casual.


“You weren’t sleeping?” asked a concerned Xander.


“No, I was sleeping,” assured Buffy. “Very well in fact. Lot’s of nice dreams.”


Perhaps Willow would get the point then.


“Dreams are meaningful.”


“Me and Buffy just had a discussion on that,” said the red head. Buffy glared at her. What the hell was she doing?


“Really?” questioned Xander, intrigued. “Did it involve any nakedness?”


Buffy gave the boy a disgusted look, who in turn just shrugged innocently. Willow glanced nervously at Buffy. “We were trying to analyze a dream I had. She thought the same thing. But dreams are just dreams, I think.”


“Slayer dreams so prove that theory wrong.”


“You gotta have the power.”


“Which I do. Go me,” cheered Buffy, punching the air.


“I still go with the theory that all dreams are with the meaningful,” stated Xander.


“Go us. Finding the hidden meaning behind those pesky night visions,” said Buffy, slapping Xander’s hand in a high five. Not wanting to prolong the discussion more than she had to and risk the spilling of her secret, the blonde decided that it was probably time that she had hightailed it out of there. “Well, I’m gonna hit the library.”


“Library?”


“Yeah. You know. Giles, he’s my watcher. I should check in.” And make with the research added the Slayer silently as she bid her friends goodbye.


***


It was very difficult to find the information she needed with Giles constantly hanging in the library. Didn’t he have anything better to do? He happened to be very observant when it came to his books and the touching of. Checking out said books was probably not an option. Which left stealing, and Buffy was under the impression that she already had a big enough track record that she didn’t need to add that particular offense to it.


She would have to think about it. Maybe come up with a crafty plan. For now she had decided that it was time to make with the normal, and hang out with her friends at the Bronze.


She just had to get rid of her stalker first.


“Hi,” she said to the spot where she was pretty sure Angel was hiding.


“Hi,” greeted the vampire as he stepped from the shadows.


Buffy raised her eyebrow. “So, is there danger at the Bronze? Should I beware?”


“I can't help thinking I've done something to make you angry. And that bothers me more than I'd like,” Angel admitted.


“I'm not angry.” Annoyed maybe. “I don't know where that comes from.”


“What are you afraid of? Me? Us?”


Us? This guy must think an awful lot of himself. Sure, he’s fairly good looking, no where near William, but fair enough. Nice as well, a little on the broody side, but he was nice. Could do with the less of the cryptic, either tell the full story or don’t bother telling the beginning was her motto. But an us? That didn’t exist. And Buffy thought she had been pretty clear on that. Maybe she was turning soft?


Perhaps it was time to fix that.


“Could you contemplate getting over yourself for a second? There's no 'us'. Look, Angel, I'm sorry if I was supposed to spend the summer mooning over you, but I didn't.”


There nice and firm, good for the necessary clearing of messages into thick skulls. Angel however was giving her an odd look, almost as if she had grown a second head.


“What? Is there something on my face?” she patted. Nothing there from what she could tell.


“Were you hanging with any vampires in L.A.?” he asked suddenly.


“I slayed some, if that’s what you mean.” Okay. Make with the crazy.


“No. Not slaying.” He looked confused as he glanced at her, almost as if he was trying to figure out some mystery. “Did you spend any time with anyone in particular? Anyone named Spike?”


“Ah, no, why would I do that?” retorted the Slayer. Especially if he had a name like Spike. That just screamed I’m a punk, in a gang, and a killer. “Oh my god are you smelling me?”


“It’s just. .”


Buffy took a step back and quickly cut him off. She really did not want to hear any sort of explanation he may or may not have. “It’s disgusting is what it is. Don’t do it again.” She gave him a pointed look, and made to walk into the Bronze, leaving the souled Vampire behind her. The nerve of him. Smelling her. Where does he have the right.


***

Welcome to Sunnydale.


Spike slammed on his breaks. Bingo. Home of the active Hellmouth, and from the information he had gathered from two careless vampires, the home of the Slayer, his Slayer. “Home. Sweet. Home.” He smirked and raised a cigarette to his lips. Things were about to get interesting and he had a front row seat. He couldn’t wait.

Chapter Eight

School Hard

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance

Yes my life is better left to chance
I could have missed the pain but I'd of had to miss the dance
“The Dance” - Garth Brooks

It was nearing October and already Buffy had crushed the Master’s bones to teeny-tiny pieces and foiled a plot for the making of the Perfect girl. Guys needed to get over themselves, never gonna happen, nobody’s perfect, and a floozy of a model is certainly going to be far from it. Puhlease.


Now though she had to face the horrifying task of Synder and his threats of possible expulsion if she didn’t pull off the most perfect Back to School Night ever. Honestly you make one teeny tiny mistake and suddenly you’re the worst person in the world. Come on she saved the world, she can’t be bothered by the little things. She did good. That should be enough. She shouldn’t even have to make with the learning, it wasn’t like it mattered much.


Hmmm, maybe Synder was evil.


Add to that the fact that Willow thought she was a tad on the north side of crazy, and Angel trying to sniff her every chance he got, and well you had a party minus the pretty dreams.


Really. All this pressure. About to crack. Hello.


“Buffy, is there anything you wish to discuss?”


Oh, and let’s not forget Giles’ new habit of asking personal questions. It was so un-British of him.


“The possibility of Snyder being a demon?”


Giles made a face. “Uh, no. I was actually referring to you’re, ah, new reading preferences.”


“Oh.” So he noticed that. Dratted.


“It’s just you’ve never shown such an interest before. I’m just curious why the sudden change of heart.” He picked up the book, “in, ah, vampire biting rituals?”


“Oh. Um, this Vampire, really ugly, said he wanted to turn me. I wanted to see if it was possible.”


And the winner for the lamest excuse possible goes to Buffy Summers. Congratulations.


“It is actually a very dangerous thing to turn a Slayer,” said Giles, oblivious to his charge’s lie. “Her power’s increase significantly, she’s said to turn into a deadly force. Or more so.”


“Oh. Makes sense,” shrugged Buffy, simply happy that she had gotten away with the possibility of more probing questions.


“It does?”


“Yes.”


“Oh, well good then.” Giles nodded and then removed his glasses to clean them. Buffy rolled her eyes. “We’re thinking of heading to the Bronze tonight. Okay?”


Not that she should have to ask for his permission or anything, she thought as he mumbled a vague whatever.


***


He had felt her the moment he had walked in the door, his eyes instantly narrowing in on her. It was the pull, telling him what he knew to be his.


She was beautiful.


Her hair shimmered beneath the lights, her clothes clinging tightly to her body. Her hips swayed
seductively to the music, oblivious to everything around her expect the music and her geeky friends who didn’t know the first thing to keeping a beat. He could feel her body calling to his without her knowing it. He could feel the power radiating from her, and he wanted nothing more than to slide in behind her and have her move like that against him. Only him.


Had to work up to that though, the girl was too unpredictable, didn’t always think before she acted. Two peas in a pod they were.


But he was tired of waiting. He had done enough of that for the past few weeks. Getting a nice place to stay and fixing it up real good, wouldn’t do if his girl wasn’t impressed. He even took care of that anointed thing, and then sat back and worried about the chit’s reaction. Would she accept him or not? What was going to happen when they came face to face? Would it have really been worth going all those extra miles? Or would it be just another mess like his relationship with Drusilla had been?


Well, no more of that. Couldn’t just sit back and wonder. The pull was strong now, there was no going back, even she would start to feel it soon. It would be impossible to ignore for the both of them. And he wanted it. Wanted her. No turning back, it was time.


“Go get something to eat!” He ordered a minion, his eyes never leaving Buffy. Stepping nearer to the area, Spike disguised his voice, careful not to give himself away. Not yet. He didn’t want their first confrontation to be in a crowded club, that just wouldn’t do. “Where's the phone? I need to call the police. There's some big guy out there trying to bite somebody.”


Spike smiled as he watched her run to her duty. He didn’t hesitate to follow her outside.


“Slayer!”


“Slayee.”


He watched her aim a kick to the face before being slammed into a metal door only moments later. He resisted the urge to help, knowing that it would only do more harm than good.


“Get her out of here,” she yelled to her friends who had just run out the door. She began punching the vampire repeatedly. “And a stake would be nice.”


The boy disappeared inside and the girl sent the woman running. The Slayer punched the vampire minion in the face before taking a nasty blow herself, causing her to fall to the ground. Spike winced in sympathy.


“I don't need to wait for St. Vigeous. You're mine.”


The vampire bent down to go in for the final blow, and if Spike had been a fledging himself he would have thought that the idiot had won. But he wasn’t at all surprised to see her retaliate with a kick aimed right at the enemies face, causing him to stumble backwards. ‘Atta girl.


“Spike! Gimme a hand!”


Stupid minion. Spike watched her look over her shoulder with a frown. He stepped further into the shadows. It wasn’t time yet.


“Buffy!”


She was standing alone now. She must have dusted the Vampire in his brief distraction. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. It had been nice to see her in action, be on the outside looking in for a change. She really was a brilliant Slayer. He almost loved the idea of having the pleasure of taking the final dance with her. That wouldn’t do though, he could think of other things he would much rather know the pleasure of doing with her. Killing her was not on the list.


Spike stepped from the shadows, clapping his hands in a slow pattern as he did so. The show really did deserve a hand. “Nice work, luv.”


He watched her head snap up at the sound of his voice. Good. She recognized him. Her mouth was open accompanying the look of shock gracing her features. Her expression changed from wonder to surprise, to fear, then anger, and than back to shock all in a matter of seconds. She closed her mouth and then opened it again, doing that little process a few more times. He could hear her heart beating fast with nerves, her fear and excitement perfumed the air.


The clutch her hand had on the stake grew tighter and tighter with each passing moment. Finally she took a step forward, before the look of fear returned. He resisted the urge to open his arms for her to run into, or to just step up to her and pull her them himself. It was her move now, had to see if she would trust him or treat him like any other vamp despite their history. Wouldn’t do to make a hasty move and end up dust on the ground because of an equally hasty decision. There was no telling with his girl.


And sure enough she dropped the stake and ran the other way, never taking the time to look back.


Now he was left here with the two buffoons that she called friends. Bloody mess this turned out to be. It could have been worse though, she could have initiated an attack.


“Has she ever done that before?” asked the boy, clearly terrified. Spike thought with glee the girlish scream the boy would probably omit if he took even a step closer. It made the demon hungry for his blood, but the thought of Buffy and how she would react to such a thing held him back.


It had been so long since his last real kill. Pathetic really.


“She’s never done that before,” answered the red head. The pair began to start walking backwards, thinking it a clever escape.


The boy went to pick up the stake, and held it out in front of him. “We’ll just be going now.” They turned around and ran, not noticing that he never even tried to follow.


Spike paid them no further attention as he took a giant breath and a whiff of the air before following Buffy’s scent. He had a girl to catch.

Chapter Nine


Must be strangely exciting
To watch the stoic squirm
Must be somewhat heartening
To watch shepard meet shepard
But you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

Like any uncharted territory
I must seem greatly intriguing
You speak of my love like
You have experienced like mine before
But this is not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

I don't think you unworthy
I need a moment to deliberate
“Uninvited” by Alanis Morrissette.


Buffy felt like she couldn’t breath. It had all happened so fast. One minute some vampire was dust and the next William was standing in front of her.



And had he been mocking her? It had certainly felt like it. He had better not have been. She could so totally kick his ass. Probably. With good reason.



Was this the business he had mentioned before? Had he come to Sunnydale, for what? To see her? To shove it in her face? She didn’t understand.



He had known all along. He had known about the dreams, about her, and he never even admitted it. Albeit neither did she, but she was planning on it. Okay, maybe not so much. But it certainly seemed like he had no plans to do so in the near future either. Just sit back and laugh as she was completely blind sided by his appearance in the alleyway. And boy did he look good. Even better in person. Sexiest thing she had ever seen, she’d wager.



And she was completely off topic. Anger. Channeling anger. He had lied to her. A capital offense. And while it was kind of nice, okay great, to see him, that didn’t change the fact that he could have told her
so she wasn’t completely flabbergasted and made to look the fool.


Buffy really wished he would have told her. If she had known, and William had known then think of all that time that wouldn’t have been wasted.


Unless he wasn’t here to see her. Maybe he wanted to kill her. Maybe he was some evil vampire that used her for the past year by means of some spell to get on her good side and then hack her off. What then?


Maybe he didn’t feel the same way, and all the emotions swirling around inside her were really, in fact, just one sided. Maybe the living nightmare she had gone through by hands of that little boy was going to come true after all. Maybe William really did hate her. Hate her enough to kill her.


She trusted him though, could feel it in her gut that he didn’t want to hurt her. She knew he didn’t, after all the things he told her and everything she had shared with him, she knew she could trust him. Maybe it was stupid mistake to do so, but why should him suddenly turning up in her life change that? It was a hell of a situation, and not at all like how she pictured their first meeting to go. But he was there, and she really wanted to trust him.


Buffy suddenly felt like crying. She bit her lip. She couldn’t think about this. It was too hard. There were too many possibilities, none of which would be resolved until she confronted him. Something they couldn’t do tonight.


William was here. He was real. Really real. She couldn’t help but smile as she climbed into bed and faced the wall.


William was real. The dreams had finally become a reality. For now, that was all she needed to know, she would worry about the rest later.


Tap.


She had barely closed her eyes and someone was already hammering to wake her up.


Tap.


She was tired and didn’t want to get up. Go away.


Tap.


Fine. She turned over and saw the source.


William was at the window.


What did he do? Follow her? Add Stalker to that list.


“Go away,” she hissed. She wasn’t ready to face him just yet She needed to sleep on it, figure out how to handle this situation. If he was safe or just another vampire that she had to eliminate. She so hoped that it didn’t turn out to be the latter, she wasn’t sure that she could actually take him out if it ever came to that. The thought of him as dust made her sick, physically ill.


She watched him shrug. “No.”


She didn’t know what to make of this. She wasn’t ready yet. She didn’t how to deal, to be so emotionally involved in the situation, in a person that she technically never met was seriously stressing her out. She had no idea how to react to him. Oh, she had imagined the moment so many times, and it always turned out with a happy ending, but now, none of those seemed plausible. She wanted nothing more than to run and protect herself, just in case. Too much was at risk here, and yet all logic out the window, she wanted nothing more but rush to him and kiss him senseless.


Was that wrong of her?


Buffy opened the window. “What do you want?” she whispered.


“Hi.” Buffy stared at him, unsure how to respond. “Can I come in?”


“Are you crazy?”
“Well, apparently you seem to think so.” Spike sighed and shifted on the roof. “I’ll just stay out here then, yeah?”


“Yes.” It was a good thing, the barrier. Buffy wasn’t sure what she would do without the distance between the two of them.. And at this time she was pretty sure the thing they needed to do was talk. And just talking, nothing else, no touching of any kind. As nice as it would be, it just couldn’t be done. Concentrating was the key at the moment, and Buffy doubted that would happen even with just the slightest hint of skin against skin. “Why are you here?”


“Well I heard it was where the Slayer lives,” replied William. He spread his arms. “And look. I was right.”


“So you knew?”


“So did you.”


“I didn’t know you knew.”


“You still knew.”


“You knew, I knew?” Buffy accused.


“Well yeah.”


“Ass.”


A tense moment passed, and the pair just stared at the other. “What’s happening? How is any of this possible?”


“Don’t know, pet,” admitted the vampire. “That’s why I’m here. Thought we could figure it out.”


“A lot of weird stuff happened,” said Buffy, pulling her hair back. “I’m positive that’s your bite. Willow didn’t believe me. But I could feel it. It felt different when I touched it. And I think Angel smelled you on me. You go by Spike, right?”


She bit her lip to keep herself from continuing her rambling in her nervous state. The need to talk was overwhelming, and was probably making her look like some sort of an idiot. Exactly the thing she needed at the moment, he probably already thought she was some big wuss for running away.


Spike nodded. “Peaches smelled you?”


It figured that would be the one thing he picked up on. “It was gross.”


“Drusilla sensed something too, I think,” he said casually. “She has visions, she sees things. Doesn’t make any bloody sense most of the time, but I think she knew something.”


“Drusilla?”


“I told you ‘bout her remember? She’s my sire.”


“Oh. Right.” He had mentioned her before, she remembered that now, she probably just pushed the unpleasant thought of her from her memory. Buffy paused for a second. “This is weird.”


Spike smirked. “Would you rather I go to sleep?”


“I don’t think that’ll help,” said Buffy. With the dreams she could pretend, in reality she wouldn’t be allowed to forget. As the Slayer, she couldn’t turn a blind eye to the situation, or else something bad could happen. “Where are you staying?”


“Got myself a crypt. Oh and I took care of the annoying one.”


Buffy scrunched her nose in confusion. “Huh?”


“That little vamp kid. Anointed and some such rot.”


A large smile graced her face, she made to hug him but then pulled back, remembering the physical and mental barrier they put into play. “You did. Oh wow. Thank you. Wait till I tell Giles that he’s history. One less lecture a day I’ll have to listen to.”


Spike sat up a little straighter and did his best not to look pleased. “Yeah, well, like I said he was annoying. That Watcher guy of yours has books, yeah?”


“Well he is a Watcher.”


“There might be something in those books of his, don’t ya think?”


“Maybe. I’ve been looking through them, you know, making with the research. And it had Giles totally wigged. Had to make up some lame excuse to get him off my back?”


“Steal em,” suggested Spike.


“I can’t steal. I’m the Slayer. We’re good people. Good people don’t steal,” retorted Buffy, crossing her arms over her chest.


“I’ll do it then. School library, yeah?”


“Creepy.”


“Told me, remember,” Spike reminded her. “Meet me in Restfield tomorrow night, around eight.”


“You’re leaving.” She wasn’t ready for him to go yet, he had just gotten here. His presence was so comforting, she didn’t want to lose that. Any fears that she had before, simply flew out the window when they had got to talking, falling back into their usual routine type banter. It should have been a concern, but he just had a way of making everything better. She couldn’t help but trust him


Was she in a mess of trouble or what?


“None of that. You need your rest, pet. Big day and all.”


“And you’re not here to kill me?” she asked of him suddenly, in part for reassurance and the other to delay his departure just a tad longer.


“Couldn’t if I tried,” he said truthfully. She could see it in his eyes that he was being honest. She could just tell, as odd as it may sound.


“Really?’


“Yes.”


She nodded. “That’s good then.” He raised his eyebrow. “I won’t have to stake you.”


“You think you can take me?”


“The student always surpasses the master,” said Buffy. “Eventually.”


“Don’t think so fast, I got a few tricks up my sleeve, been around awhile.”


“Pish. Slayer here.”


“Vampire,” he retorted with a smirk, before sobering quickly.“Lessen your fears some?”


“I was that transparent?” she asked with concern.


“Yes,” replied Spike. “But that might because I just know you oh so well.”


She stuck her tongue out at him. He could be so annoyingly cocky sometimes. “Do not.”


“Really? How’s that fear of cowboys going for you?”


Buffy promptly blushed. “Shut up.”


“But what if you run into a Vampire like cow boy? Whatever shall you do?” mocked Spike, pretending to faint.


“Goodbye William,” she said forcefully.


“Now she kicks me out. Go figure.”


“Goodbye.”


“Going, going,” he said, making for the edge of the roof to climb down the tree. “And Buffy?”


“Yes?”


“It’s Spike,” he corrected quietly. “Don’t go by William anymore, might raise some suspicion.”


“Alright.”


“Good,” said Spike with a nod before resuming his trek down the tree.


“Spike.” The name felt foreign on her lips. He looked up in acknowledgment, and she struggled to find something to say. She finally opted for the truth. “I’m glad you came.”


He gave her a smile. “Me too,” he whispered, before jumping to the ground.


Buffy closed the window and climbed into bed with a smile on her face. She had fretted over nothing. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

Chapter Ten


They say that I must learn to kill before I can feel safe
But I, I'd rather kill myself than turn into their slave

Sometimes I feel that I should go and play with the thunder
Somehow I just don't wanna stay and wait for a wonder

I've been watching, I've been waiting
In the shadows for my time
I've been searching, I've been living
For tomorrows all my life
“In the Shadows” - The Rasmus


Buffy had made a quick sweep of the other cemeteries before rounding in on Restfield with an extra bounce in her step. The only possible damper was the fresh grass stain that graced her cute pants that she had spent hours picking out earlier that evening so she would look perfect for the big meeting. She could get over that though.


“Buffy.”


Well there was a definite downside.


“Angel.”


“Can we talk?” he asked.


Buffy shrugged. It wouldn’t do to ignore him, he might just follow her. And that would be very much of the bad. He might spot Spike, or smell him on her. Again. She took a step back, just to be safe. “I suppose. What about?”


“A situation has arisen,” he said gravely. “My family is in town.”


“Really? You kept track of them after all this time. How many great uncles would that make,” asked Buffy with fake interest. “Will there be a reunion?”


“My Vampire family,” he corrected.


Well duh. “Oh, like that Darla chick.”


“Yes. This is Spike, my Grandchilde. He’s. . .”



“Spike? The one you smelled on me?”


“Yes.”


“Maybe I’ve met him then. What’s he look like?”


“This is a very serious matter, Buffy. He’s dangerous.” He paused, and when she only gave him a look of annoyance, he plunged on. “He’s killed two Slayers. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”


“And that would be?” Buffy was annoyed now, she hated when Angel did this, she felt like he was treating her like a helpless child. A vampire, was a vampire. They were all dangerous. They all wanted the Slayer dead. Spike just happened to be on her side. Not that she could tell him that.


“You dead.” Ha. If only he knew.


“I can take care of myself.”


“If Spike’s here, that means his sire, Drusilla, won’t be far behind. And she’s just as deadly.”


“Nice family you got there,” said Buffy sarcastically.


“Their up to something. Spike is practically attached to Drusilla’s hip, and has been since she sired him. The fact that they’re not together can’t be a good.”


Buffy quickly decided she didn’t much like this Drusilla girl, nope, not one bit. Object of Spike’s affections for a hundred years but quite obviously emotionally scarring and abusive, and still quite enamored with a demon that was replaced by the vampire with a soul standing in front of her. Nope. Not much to like.


Was she jealous? Sure, she had been a big part of William’s life, and he was once her willing slave. Anyone in her position would be jealous of such a presence. But did she feel threatened. Absolutely not, Spike had given her no reason to be, not that she had much to go on as of yet. But so far, it was all good.


She needed to get rid of him. She was already late for her meeting with Spike, and it wouldn’t do for Angel to sense him, here, in the cemetery. Somebody might do something rash.


“I promise. I’ll be careful.”


He gave her a long, hard look. “Alright.”


When he didn’t leave, she asked, “Anything else?”


“Um. . . no,” he said awkwardly. It was the never ending conversation, the one you wanted to end but couldn’t without seeming rude or acting suspicious.


Take a hint and leave already. She had a guy to meet.


“Well I have to patrol. Vampires and all. So. . .”


“Right. I’ll let you know if I hear anything more.”


“Kay.”


She watched him walk away, rolling her eyes at his receding back. When she saw that he was out of sight, she began looking around, anticipation and nerves building within her.


“Can’t much take a hint, can he?”


***


If you’re gonna rob a place, you better get the good stuff. You’re lucky if you get one shot, and one should never assume you’re going to get a second chance. Especially when dealing with someone from the Watcher’s Council, who would take their collection quite seriously. So when Spike found himself within the library he didn’t meander into the stacks, but into the private office of Rupert Giles which would hopefully contain a private stash of sorts.


It did. More specific, there were several old volumes and a few Watcher’s diaries, which the vampire was quick to knick, replacing them with several similar looking books in the hopes that he wouldn’t catch onto the ruse right away. If they needed any others, Buffy had an all access pass to the library, she would just have to be careful about it.


Spike closed the door behind him and began his trek to the graveyard in preparation for his meeting, his thoughts turning to the Slayer he had talked to just the night before, face to face for the first time.


It had gone better than he imagined it would. The only hindrance was the invisible barrier that stood between him and the window, that prevented him finding the comfort in her arms that would assure him that she was real and lessen the need to feel his skin against hers for the first time outside the dream. She had felt the same, in fact he had seemed better at hiding it.


They were drawn to each other for no explainable reason. Even the anger and fear she had felt towards him for whatever purpose quickly disappeared with just a few simple words of truth. And he had spoken the truth, he couldn’t harm her, just the thought made him ill, made him physically and emotionally hurt. It was a battle what he felt towards her, the conflicting emotions, and what he wanted and knew he should want.


The pull, the bond that he knew was there had strengthened in her presence while weakening at the same time. Strengthening as the connection between them grew and began to solidify, and weakening as there was no longer a desire, or need really, to go out and find her, she was already there. He knew clearly what it was. but the question was how it had come into place when neither one of them had ever come across the other before. Unless he was misinterpreting it, the meaning behind it. Because such a pull was only experienced between mated vampires, bound together for eternity. Never had they initiated such a ritual and it was impossible to imitate especially without the consent or knowledge of the parties involved. So it couldn’t be that, but it had to be something similar to invoke such strong feelings.


They only had the simple fact that it was somehow connected to the ‘dreams’ they shared. The question was how such a thing was even possible. It was what it always came down to.


“. . .my family is in town.”


Spike doubled back recognizing the voice of his grandsire. It wouldn’t do for him to sense him now especially seeing as he was already warning everyone under the sun about him. Stupid family. Always worked against you, never for you.


He watched the Slayer blatantly ignored his efforts to warn her, looking bored as Peaches tried to explain the possible dangers. Luckily she knew otherwise. He winced at the mention of Drusilla and his previous adoration of the chit, hoping that Buffy wouldn’t buy the talk Angel was sprouting. She knew the basics of the relationship, but not enough where if he pushed hard enough Angel might still be able to push his view.


After that the conversation seemed to dwindle down, Angelus trying desperately to find a reason to stay and her pushing him to take the hint to leave, and finally he did. He watched her roll her eyes and then when he was positive that he had vacated the area he popped out of his hiding spot.


“Can’t take a hint, can he?”


She jumped, surprised by his sudden appearance. “Don’t do that.”


Spike laughed. “You’re the Slayer. Sense me.” They began walking side by side, as he led the way to his Crypt that he had acquired shortly after dropping into town. “So what was that all about?” He asked, without really needing to.


“You,” she replied, then gave him a quick punch in the shoulder. A quick and hard punch might he add. “You really killed two Slayers?”


“I told you that, luv. First thing.” He had done it in the hopes of striking fear within her, thus giving them a reason to fight. Instead she stared at him a bit, almost as if she was waiting for him to attack, and then changed the subject to her training session earlier that afternoon and how her Watcher had seemed quite impressed with her ability. Spike hoped she wasn’t going to hold it against him now. They had taken enough steps back in the past year, that they didn’t need any more.


“I thought you were bragging,” she admitted with shrug. “I thought maybe one tops, and the second one you just added on for show.”


“Not really something you can lie about, pet.”


She shrugged. “I suppose. Oh, hey, did you get the goods?”


Spike smirked, finally onto to a topic that didn’t grate on his nerves. “That I did.” Pulling her inside his
crypt, he placed the books on the floor in front of them when they got settled.


Rubbing her hands together gleefully she began to glance at the covers. Spike couldn’t help but feel proud of the negative influence he seemed to have on her. “You took his Watcher’s Diaries. Will - Spike, he’s bound to notice these are missing.”


“So?”


“I’m going to be working triple over time, and be forced to listen to him ramble on about how important these books are,” complained Buffy. “Plus, I can’t lie to him.”


“You won’t be unless he asks directly if you know who took them.”


“And I do.”


“Which in that case you’ll have to lie.”


Buffy moaned, banging her head lightly against the wall behind her. “You just had to take these didn’t you?”


“Watchers always get the inside scoop. Most up to date information.”


“Ugh, fine. But if I go down, you are so coming with me.” He decided not to point out the fact that if she told on him, he would most likely be on the receiving end of a very pointy wooden stake.


“Just read up, luv.”


“I won’t like it.”


“Wouldn’t expect you to.”


They leaned back each taking a book in hand, sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, comfortable silence lingering as they skimmed the pages. Her body heat radiated off her, her close presence making it difficult for him to concentrate on anything but her. Spike shifted, if only in an attempt to get closer to Buffy, to feel her. That alone made reading through the junk in front of him worth it.


***


“Looks like the Watcher’s been saying stuff about you,” teased Spike a little while later.


“You shouldn’t be reading that,” said Buffy, making a grab for the book which Spike placed just out of reach. “What did he say?”


“Little attention span, blah, blah, Unfocused, blah, blah, blah, Badly disciplined, blah, blah, blah, oh and a skilled fighter,” read Spike in a stuffy tone.


Buffy placed a hand over her heart in mock pride. “He really said I was skilled fighter?”


“Sure thing, pet,” said Spike with a smirk. “Did ya find anything yet?”


“I’ll tell you when I decipher this guys writing,” said Buffy. She let out a frustrated sigh and put her book down. “We suck at this.”


“Well maybe if you spent a little less time on your fighting skills and a little more time focusing, we wouldn’t have that problem,” teased the Vampire.


She pouted. “I hate you.”


“That mean I don’t get my kiss?”


She ducked her head, and Spike felt her cheeks redden. “Who said you were ever going to get one to begin with?”


“You still on about that?” questioned an exasperated Spike. He had snuck a kiss a few months back to see what would happen. He hadn’t really seen the point, dream kissing, how was one supposed to get any pleasure off of that. Didn’t make much sense, they were better off spending their time talking, at least get something productive down then. Instead of simply partaking in an act for the sake of it.


Plus, add in the fact that vampires and Slayers just simply don’t partake in any form of snogging, it went against the cardinal rule of enemies. Which was something, at the time, that Spike had planned to uphold to a T. To the best of his abilities anyway. With each passing night they slowly broke each of those rules, till eventually they didn’t seem to matter anymore. He had to face it, the relationship he had with Buffy just wasn’t going to be a normal Slayer-vampire relationship, the bond that somehow existed between them simply didn’t allow it. Spike was vastly approaching the point that he just didn’t care though.


But anyway, Spike’s curiosity had finally gotten the best of him, and he decided to go in for the final blow. He had complained that she had tasted like apples, a despised fruit on his part, and she had moaned about him tasting like everything from blood to alcohol to cigarettes. An unfortunate side effect of the dreams apparently; they enhanced the senses tenfold making the situation more than awkward. And now it was coming back to haunt him when he wanted to do nothing more than take her in his arms and snog her senseless. She was just so close, the warmth radiating off her touching his insides.


He wanted her. All of her. Wanted her now. And without second guessing his decision he closed the distance between them.

Chapter Eleven


Night lift up the shades
let in the brilliant light of morning
habit steady there now
for I am weak and starving for mercy
sleep has left me alone
to carry the weight of unraveling where we went wrong
it's all I can do to hang on
to keep me from falling
into old familiar shoes

how stupid could I be
a simpleton could see
"Stupid"- Sarah McLachlan


She supposed a part of her should have expected the feeling of having his lips on hers, but it still came as a surprise. A pleasant surprise she should add. The thought to protest the intrusion upon her personal space never even crossed her mind, there were no horns or warnings going off in her head that said this was wrong. It felt right, so amazingly right.


There were no other words.


He had started off gentle, one hand on her cheek, almost as if he was testing the water. It wasn’t like she had much experience in the area. In real life, her only kiss had been with Angel, and that had been more like a nightmare. She had done it as a test, actually. She had wanted to prove to herself that she could actually be attracted to a guy outside her dreams. It didn’t work. The second her lips touched his, warnings sounded, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up, telling her she was in close proximity with a vampire. Suddenly terrified, and more than disgusted, she had bit his lip causing him to vamp. It had only gotten worse after that.


He understood though, and Buffy had apologized the next day for biting him as hard as she did. He even admitted he should have told her he was a vampire. She didn’t bother to correct him, she was far too embarrassed as it was. Embarrassed and worried.


But ew. She didn’t want to think of Angel right now. Not when Spike was touching her.


This wasn’t like that. Her spider sense wasn’t even going off. She moved her lips tentatively against his, and he pulled her onto his lap to get better access. She wriggled around in her place, moving so she was straddling him, a movement that caused Spike to moan into her mouth. She had to get as close to him as she could, she wanted to be close to him, to feel his cold skin against hers.


He deepened the kiss, his tongue coming out to play with hers, his hands teasing the soft skin of her back. His hair was surprisingly soft she concluded as she buried her hands in his bleached locks, mussing what was once carefully slicked back. She imagined it would look better that way. Sexy.


She didn’t know how she could have possibly wanted the dreams over this. How could it even compare. The dreams were a glimpse of what could be. Here it was solid, real, electricity radiating between their bodies as the mysterious connection between them strengthened with each passing moment they had contact. She felt it, something pulling them together, showing them what they probably would have never realized had it never been.


It was raw emotion, raw passion pouring from them as they clung to the other desperate for the contact, needing it now that they knew what it could bring. How complete it made her feel.


Buffy pulled back, panting as she gasped for air. She noticed Spike pull for air as well despite the fact that he didn’t need it. The act made her feel oddly satisfied, that she could affect him like that.


Spike moved to her neck, pressing hot, wet kisses against her skin, before sucking gently on his mark, flicking it gently with his tongue. A wave of pleasure washed through her. Never had she felt anything like it before.


“Oh. . .”


“So soft. Beautiful.”


“Hmmm.. .” She couldn’t form coherent words. He was turning her into a pile of mush. Her body was on fire. It felt like he was everywhere, the spots where his fingers touched burning in their wake. She had no idea it could feel like this. That such a feeling could exist. That she could feel at home, complete, at peace from a simple touch.


It was terrifying.


And oh so wonderful.


But they had to stop. She feared getting lost in the touch, in the passion that only he could ignite within her. It felt too good, and it only strengthened her fear that perhaps this wasn’t real, that it was only some illusion cast by a spell. Nothing could feel this amazing, at least not for her. She had to know what this connection between them was caused by, even if it meant pulling away from his delicious touch.


“It’s late,” she squeaked suddenly, jerking back from him. She didn’t miss the disappointment that crossed his face before turning into understanding. It surprised her how deep the connection seemed to go, but then she realized that it really shouldn’t, they had know each other for quite a while now.


She herself had to bite her lip to keep from letting a whimper escape from her lips from the loss of his touch. Everything felt cold now. Cold and lonely. “I should go.”


“Tonight then?”


“Yeah,” she said with a smile. She squeezed his hand, and gave him another kiss goodbye. They had their dreams. Something to look forward to.


***

“Rupert Giles speaking.”


“Quentin Travers,” said the voice on the other end of the phone.


Giles quickly straightened in his chair, attention at full alert. He could feel the ache in his head begin to strengthen.


“How - how are you, Mr. Travers?”


“Just fine, Rupert. How is your Slayer?”


A small smirk graced his face. So typical. “She’s doing well. She improves with each passing day.”


“And you feel she is being completely honest with you?”


“Excuse me?” Quentin Travers always knew how to push the right buttons. Giles didn’t appreciate being accused of ignorance regarding his own charge. The information was appreciated. But dangling the fact he didn’t know something when he obviously should, put him on edge. Upset him in a way that he possibly didn’t understand. The interrogation of his Slayer’s doings a few months ago was bad enough, and now accusations.


But he did know Buffy wasn’t being completely honest with him. She never had. Always dodging one thing or another, omitting certain details in her obscure stories that she told at her rapid pace. Her skittish behavior only getting worse in the past few months, not to mention her rapid change of moods that Giles could never keep up with.


Quentin Travers had no need to know that, however.


“My Slayer is hiding nothing from me.”


“Are you absolutely certain?”


“If you have something you wish to discuss, then do so.”


“We have reason to believe that your Slayer, Buffy Summers, is well on her way to becoming mated.”


It was lucky Giles was sitting down. With a revelation like that he needed the support. “Are you certain?”


“Yes.”


Dear Lord. Why did Buffy always have to stand out? Why did she always have to get herself into these types of messes? “Who? Do you know?”


“We hoped you would have an idea Mr. Giles.”


“There is Angel.”


“The souled vampire? No.”


Giles didn’t press the issue, the Council would have likely known if it had been Angel. He was a unique case. “I’ll observe her.”


“Very well. The situation needs to be dealt with before it gets out of hand. Do I need to remind you once again that the balance is already destroyed? To do so more could have serious consequences.”


Giles quickly suppressed an uncharacteristic growl. This situation had been discussed in full many times over the summer. A very unpleasant subject that Giles wished had never been brought up. “I’m fully aware.”


“Good day, Rupert,” said Quentin, before hanging up the phone indicating the end of the conversation.


Good day indeed.


***


Xander eyed his cards, “Go fish,” he replied and Willow was forced to pick up a card. “Do you have a two?”


“No,”


Xander wagged his finger, “Nuh-uh,” he scolded. The game was no fun if you didn’t follow the rules.


Willow rolled her eyes. “Go fish. Any fives?”


Xander gave a disappointed sigh and handed her the card. He fished his brain for a topic of conversation before landing on something they both had in common. Well sort of. “Buffy’s looking good, ain’t she?”


Willow choked, and Xander patted her on the back. “What?”


“Buffy. Look. Good.” said Xander slowly. Sometimes his friend was just a little slow on the uptake. He
watched Willow fidget with her cards, and thought it was perhaps time he found himself a friend of the male gender to avoid this awkwardness. “If you think so. Do you have a queen?”


“Well duh,” retorted the boy, automatically handing her the card. “I think I’m going to try again with her. Did you see the way she shot down Dead boy the other day? I think that’s my cue, ya know.”


“I wouldn’t be so sure,” muttered Willow. “Ten?”


“Go fish.” Willow plucked a card. “And why not?”


“Nothing,” she replied. “It’s your turn.”


“You got the girlie scoop. Tell me,” demanded Xander, putting his cards down in front of him.


“Girlie scoop?”


“Willow!”


“Xander.”


Xander was beyond intrigued now. It was obvious the secret the red head was keeping was a doosey. Curiosity peaked, he crouched in front of her, prepared to beg if need be. “No secrets remember?”


It had turned into a promise or pact of sorts originating in First Grade after he had refused to tell Willow where he hid her Barbie and had to listen to her cry for a full two minutes before he caved. They agreed to hide nothing from each other since.


“It’s not my secret,” replied Willow sternly.


Xander stuck out his lower lip and gave her the puppy eyes that he knew his best friend couldn’t resist. “Puh-puh-puh-please.”


Willow crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and shook her head from side to side. “Pretty please with a cherry on top.”


He saw her smile sneak through her frown, and knew in a few minutes he would have it in the bag. And, just as he predicted, Willow spilled the cat right out of the bag, almost as if her very life depended on it.

You never can win
it's the state I'm in
This danger thrills and my conflict kills
They say follow your heart
follow it through
But how can you
when you're split in two?

And you'll never know
You'll never know
'Face to Face' - Siouxsie and the Banshees


Chapter Twelve


“Cold feet, luv?” Spike questioned, as she snuggled into him. Whatever fears she may have had on the outside, didn’t exist when they were here, in the Grove, the place that was only theirs.


“What are we doing?” she asked quietly, her hands playing nervously with the hem of his shirt.


“By the looks of it, I would say we were cuddling, pet,” he laughed, avoiding the actual meaning of her question. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was a form of rejection or just a simple evaluation based question. She thought about things like that too much. He would have to teach her how to just relax and let her emotions guide her.


She shook her head. “With the kissing and stuff,” she said. “Not that I didn’t like it, ya know, it was definitely of the good, it’s just. . .”


He pushed her hair back behind her ears. “That we just met,” he finished for her. “Only we both know that’s not really so.”


She nodded, almost guiltily. “I know. It’s just, well, you’re a vampire. Not that’s a bad thing or anything,” she added hastily when she saw him about to protest. “But Giles doesn’t know that and neither do my friends, and they may not like it.”


“Does that really matter, Buffy?” Spike questioned with a raised brow. He saw no reason to care what her friends opinion of him was. What mattered was Buffy and the fact that she even returned a fraction of his own feelings. They had known each other well over a year now, they knew things about each other, that no one else had any business knowing. Her friends, her Watcher, they would never understand the connection that was shared between them, how strong it was. And they had no business knowing.


No one was ever going to get in the way of that. Spike certainly wasn’t going to allow it.


“Well no,” she admitted, her head ducked so he couldn’t possibly see the emotions playing across her face. “But you are a vampire, and you do have vampire type habits, and. . .”


And there they were. The root of the problem. Petty fears of things taught to her about the nature of vampires. She had a thing or two to learn still. “Is this your round about way of asking if I’m killing anyone, pet?”


“Now don’t get mad,” she said defensively. How was he not supposed to get mad at that? She didn’t trust him. “But I can’t just sit back and let you kill people. I just . . . can’t,” she finished lamely. “I’m sorry. My watcher, my friends, well Xander mostly, are going to have problems enough with this. They aren’t going to be too happy if I’m just turning a blind eye while you go out and kill half the population of Sunnydale.”


Don’t forget Buffy, who was the one who really had a problem with it. Spike decided not to call her on it, though. “Did you miss the part last fall when I told ya I couldn’t kill anymore, the thought alone made me heave,” he said, his voice raised slightly with anger. He thought she trusted him, he thought she knew what he had given up for her. Even, if at first it had felt like he had no choice in the matter.


“Oh, you meant that?”


“Yeah, I meant that,” he retorted.


“You were just so annoyed every time you mentioned it. . .”


“That you figured the moment I figured a way to overcome it, I’d go back out killing the human population again,” he finished for her. “Well, I didn’t. And if I do, I’m not going to. So you can stop worrying your little head about it.”


“Don’t be mad,” she pleaded with him.


“I’m not mad,” he muttered. Just a bit though. The energy in the Grove allowed it so he could keep his cool. Where he normally would have exploded in a fit of rage, here it allowed him to keep his head and stay focused. Buffy knew that. And Spike knew she was using it to her advantage. “I thought you trusted me. I thought you knew what I had given up for you.”


“I don’t understand why,” she admitted, pushing herself into a seating position, and taking his hands in hers after he mimicked her movement. “It doesn’t make sense. Then, you weren’t doing it for me, it was something else that was forcing you do it, and . .. “


“I accepted it,” he said firmly, his eyes portraying the truth of his words. He was going to make sure she would see that he had no regrets. That there would be no regrets. Whatever this connection between them, whatever it turned out to be, he wouldn’t look back on it with negative thoughts. No matter how foul animal blood was. “Somewhere between those first few weeks and now I accepted it. I accepted what we have. I realized that I want what we have.”


“I’m confused.”


He pulled her to his chest in a tight hug. “I won’t say I’m not. But you’re going to have to trust me, trust what I feel for you.”


“I trust you.” she said, looking into his eyes as she did so. And at her words he felt the remains of his anger fade away. “I do.”


***

Buffy was in such a good mood that she decided to do her homework the next morning. As in willingly, no need for force, she had made the decision to do so herself. On a Saturday. People would be so proud.


Her talk with Spike last night really made things better, put things in perspective. Perhaps she still didn’t understand the connection they shared but Spike didn’t resent it, and that made things all the better.


Okay. So maybe such a decision was used, in part, to get her mom off her back a little. Ya know, if she saw her only daughter actually taking up some form of responsibility. Off her back provided some more leg room to sneak out slaying or to see a certain vampire


She was obviously a genius.


“Homework?” Her mother questioned. Buffy could hear the pleasant surprise in her voice.


“Yup,” she replied, popping the ‘p.’


“What did you do?” Her hands were on her hips, and she was looking at Buffy with a glare that clearly said if she didn’t answer with the honest truth, she was bound to suffer the consequences.


“Mom,” whined Buffy. She didn’t often show it, but she hated that her mother always had to expect the worst from her.


“Well. . .”


“Nothing,” replied Buffy. Well, probably something. Sneaking out to see a guy over a hundred years older than her was something. Her mother would no doubt approve, as in not. She had that look on her face that clearly said something was bothering her though, and didn’t know quite how to broach the subject.


Pity for her. Did she mention how much she hated that her mother didn’t trust her. She had to think positively though. The sooner they talked, the sooner she got out of her hair, which meant the sooner she could get this pile of work done and go sneak out to see a certain someone. “What’s up, mom?”


“Hmmmm, oh nothing,” said Joyce, glancing at an assignment sheet laying on the table. After a few tense moments in which Buffy grew uncomfortable with the close proximity to her mother figure, she finally straightened as if gaining some form of courage. “We need to talk.”


Buffy sat back, trying to think of what she might have possibly done this time that could exclude sneaking out late at night. “Oh?”


“I feel as if I don’t know you anymore.”


That was it. Oh, what a relief. They had this conversation at least once a month. Her mother attempted to reconnect with her in an afternoon at the mall, bribing her only daughter with stylish shirts, while talking about her progress at school. And then everything went back to normal, Buffy avoided her mom while she continued to think her daughter was juvenile delinquent.


It wasn’t a bad deal. And yet this one attempt to reconnect seemed different than the other times she had brought it up.


“You’re not suicidal are you?”


Buffy’s eyes widened. What could have possibly given her that idea.


“Mother!”


Joyce raised her hands in defeat. “Well, what do you expect me to think? Every night I find myself scrubbing blood out of your clothes. You always come home bruised. The lack of effort in your school work. And then those few weeks where you did nothing but sleep, a classic sign of depression. I can’t help but think you’re crying out for help.”


“I have no plans to kill myself.” Get killed by vampires maybe. Do it herself? No way.


“Are you in a gang then?”


“Do you think that little of me?” snapped the Slayer. It angered her that her mother could even think such a thing about her.


“I don’t know what to think, Buffy. I’m trying to figure it out.”


Buffy slammed her math book shut, suddenly angry. It wasn’t her fault that her parents didn’t believe her when she told them she was the Slayer. She tried. They failed. End of story.


“You wouldn’t believe me?”


She could see her mother roll her eyes, and that was the end of it for Buffy. She stomped towards her room. Buffy could hear her mother following her. “You’re not starting that again are you?”


“That? That, mom, is my destiny. I didn’t start it, it started me,” she spat, knowing she was making any sense but she didn’t care. She started pulling out drawers of crosses and stakes, dumping them on the floor in an effort to prove her point. Books on vampires and the supernatural taken from under bed, spread at her mother’s feet.


There was no going back now.


Joyce stared at the items, mouth gaping, as she attempted to process what her daughter was showing her. “You can’t honestly believe that. . .”


“I’m the Slayer mom, get over it. That’s not going to change, so either believe me or go on pretending that I’m some big disappointment terrorizing the neighborhood for drug money. But don’t come yelling to me when your trying to reconnect and it’s not working anymore.”


She didn’t respond, and instead she opened one of the books at her feet, flipping through the pages, wincing at the pictures. “So Vampires?”


Buffy sank onto the bed and nodded. Maybe they were getting somewhere.

Chapter Twelve


What I really meant to say
Is I'm sorry for the way I am
I never meant to be so cold to you

And I'm sorry about all the lies
Maybe in a different light
You could see me stand on my own again
Cause now i can see
You were the antidote that got me by
Something strong like a drug that got me high
I never meant to be so cold
“Cold” - Crossfade


I recognized his face a second to late. His eyes wide with defeat and recognition as my stake pierced his heart. I approached from behind, I plunged, he turned, and suddenly he was there.


He was there. And then he was dust.


The pull misguided me, I didn’t recognize it, and I murdered the one person that ever took the time to understand me. The one person, if that word could truly apply, that ever saw me as more than a weapon.


For the first time in my life I’ve mourned for the fallen enemy. I see no shame. Not anymore. What I thought was a sin of the greatest proportions, I now see as what was meant to be my salvation. I understand that now, far too late.


My strength is gone, and I’m giving in to the feeling.


They can find someone else. I’m done.


*


The piece of paper was frayed at the edges, ink smeared from the passing of time, but it was a clue. The start to the mystery of what was transpiring between him and the Slayer. A journal entry made by a Slayer, slipped into the diary of her watcher many years ago


It was vague. But it was something. Something similar to their situation. A recognition. This girl had recognized a vampire she supposedly never met, and then had a severe reaction when she learned that she dusted him. So severe that she had followed through with what sounded like a form of suicide. And the last clue, the fact that it was in a Watcher’s Diary indicated the council had some sort of knowledge of the situation. Probably more than Spike would like to think.


But there was a connection. And while the mystery of what was going on behind it was still weak, it was an important start. He would have to share it with Buffy later, in the meantime he would continue to read while waiting for the sun to set.


Risking dust was obviously not the best of ideas at the moment.


***


“Ah, Buffy, I was hoping to talk to you,” said Giles.


Buffy froze. Why would he hope for something like that? Did he possibly suspect something? Did he think she had stolen the books? She did not like this, she was a partner of the crime. She could go to jail, something she so did not have time for. She would so stake Spike if that was the case. “Why?” she asked, doing her best to sound casual.


“Willow and Xander approached me about the other night.”


The other night? What other night? “Huh?”


“They said that you ran upon coming face to face with a vampire.” said Giles, his face showed that of concern.


Shoot. What gave them the rights to blab about something like that? That wasn’t cool. They were supposed to be all with the moral support, not going to her Watcher and playing the part of the tattle tale. Geez.


“Is there any particular reason why?”


“He was uber powerful,” said Buffy. Which was the truth, Spike was powerful, being a master vampire and all. “I wasn’t sure I could take him.”


“A good action, Buffy,” said Giles. “But if, in the future, you could report such things to me, it would be much appreciated.”


“Okay,” said Buffy with a shrug. That was almost too easy.


“Good. Now could you describe what he looked like?” Giles requested calmly. “Only Angel had addressed his concerns that his family has rolled into town, and I would like to know if what we’re dealing with is one and the same, or something completely different.”


Okay, now it was time to lie. “You know, he was a vampire, kinda tall, brownish hair, real ugly. So ugly, that if he had a reflection he so could have broken a mirror.”


“Right, thank you,” said Giles, taking the time to clean his glasses. “Perhaps it would be prudent if we increased your training, at least until the threat passes. It seems that there is also the matter of my watcher’s diaries being stolen. Quite unfortunate.”


Buffy nodded, suddenly nervous. “Sounds good. But I should go. Class.”


“On your way then.”


Buffy couldn’t get out of the library fast enough. Once outside the doors and into the safety of the hall, she sighed in relief. So far, it looked as if she had gotten away with it.


***


School had been slow. Far too slow in Buffy’s opinion. The minutes of her math class ticking by at a snail’s pace as she stared at the clock and thought back to the night before. Boy, had Spike’s kisses felt good. She wanted more of them, wanted his hands on her once again, no one else would do. It was him she wanted, even if it was only some stupid spell. It felt far too good to ignore.


It was perhaps the thought that she felt that way, that scared her.


Willow had to poke her several times to regain her attention to the important task of listening to the lecture. Silly Willow. Who would want to learn about the radius of circle when they could think about the delicious vampire waiting for her in his crypt?


“What is up with you? You’ve been spacing all day,” she had asked after class.


“Dreamy expression, glazed eyes. Get a clue Willow, little Miss Cold over here landed herself a guy,” stated Cordelia, who had a nasty habit of popping into conversations when she was least wanted. “Who though, would want to stick themselves to you is beyond me.”


“Who asked you?” snapped her friend, although Buffy could tell that she was itching to ask if that was the truth of the matter.


“You asked. I supplied,” shrugged Cordelia. “Not my fault you didn’t like the answer.”


“Don’t you have a mirror to check or something?” asked Buffy.


“You lot need to loosen up,” said Cordelia before spotting her next prey, and no doubt going off to bother him instead.


“What a witch.”


“Willow.”


“What. I said witch. Witch, with a ‘w’” said the red head nervously. “But really. What’s up?”


Buffy wanted to tell her. She spread her arms excitedly ready to repeat the amazing tale while leaving out a few minor details that were sure to make the shy girl blush. But then she remembered the unbelieving sympathetic and disbelieving look she received from her when she spilled the beans earlier in the summer, and suddenly Buffy didn’t want to tell her anymore.


“It’s nothing.”


“Um, no, it’s something.”


“Nothing.”


“Come on, We haven’t talked. Really talked, since. . .” Willow’s eyes met Buffy’s slightly hard ones. “Oh.”


“Yeah, oh.”


Willow grabbed her friend’s arm and dragged her into the bathroom, checking the stalls to make sure they were alone. When she had ensured their privacy, she turned her attention back to Buffy. “Look I’m sorry, whatever I did or said, I’m sorry. I obviously said the wrong thing that day, but you have to admit what you told me, it was little out there. Way out there. I had to at least try to get you thinking logically, try and see straight. You get?”


“You were wrong though,” said Buffy with crossed arms.


Willow raised an eyebrow. “About?”


Buffy sighed and wondered if she could tell her this. She kind of wanted her best friend back though, and Willow really looked like she wanted to understand. And Buffy really wanted her to understand. She missed her best friend. “Remember the other night? At the Bronze?”


“When you ran away?”



They were never going to let her forget that, were they?


“You so shouldn’t have told Giles about that.”


“Actually Xander did most of the telling, well, yeah, sorry about that,’ said Willow, who had the decency enough to look the part.


“Well, that guy, that was him.”


“Him who?”


“Spike. The guy I told you about, from my dreams. That was him,” she clarified, her hands fidgeting in her lap. She hated the part of herself that needed Willow to understand, needed her friends approval. But a part of her needed someone to say that it was okay. Spike was a vampire, and as wonderful as he seemed to be, that didn’t change his past, his true nature. And as the Slayer she shouldn’t have any crushy, warm feelings for a guy that once slaughtered innocent people. Even if he stopped doing it now because of her. But she did, and Buffy needed someone else to tell her that it was okay, because while she herself felt everything but bad things when with him, that didn’t change the fact of what she was doing.


Of course, that didn’t mean she had to like it if Willow told her it was wrong. She just hoped she wouldn’t.


“So you’re saying this vampire you were dreaming about was the vampire in the alley?”


Buffy nodded. “And so obviously you freaked, and hence the runnage.” She nodded again. “I think I need to sit down.”


“How do you think I felt?” retorted Buffy, sinking to the floor with her friend. She leaned her head back against the tiles, this could go either way at the moment, and damn if she wasn’t nervous.


“Are you sure?”


What kind of question was that? “Of course.”


“Weird,” she muttered, and Buffy could practically see Willow’s mind attempting to put a logical twist on the situation.


“So you believe me?”


“I kind of have to. I have no reason not to.” Buffy gave her a tight hug. Even if Willow was lying, just the fact that she was trying meant the world. “Now tell me more about what happened to have you all spacey today.”


“He’s fantastic, Wills,” said Buffy happily. “And man, but what a kisser. . .”


***


Giles found himself with limited choices.


He realized that he had a lot to worry about. Buffy’s odd behavior wasn’t Buffy just being Buffy. It was obviously some sort of reaction to something else going on in her life. And he bet that something had to do with the vampire that she had some sort of connection to. The mood swings, the flaky attitude, the odd reading habits - they were all related. He had even witnessed some of that odd behavior earlier today when speaking with Buffy in the library. And if Buffy’s choice of reading, vampire bites, gave any indication, Giles had to work fast. She was obviously planning some sort of claiming ritual to make it final, if she hadn’t already.


That couldn’t happen.


Giles had to take care of this, before it became too much for her. She had no idea what she was getting into.


There was only one other reporting of a slayer ever getting as far as to mating with a vampire. The connection was never understood. The only reporting that the girl had an increase in power and mood, the situation making her less focused and more unpredictable than before. The master vampire in question was also said to have a surge in power. Thought to have put a controlling claim on their charge, the Council captured the vampire, enraging the girl. It was said that the primal form of the demon residing within the Slayer emerged, going on a killing spree to reach her mate. She was killed in the fight, and the vampire slowly faded away afterwards.


The council thought it would be in their best interest to ensure such a thing would never happen again. If the two were to complete the pre-existing connection, which was thought impossible for them not to, the council would be forced to murder either the slayer or the vampire. It was likely easier to gain access to the Slayer with little casualty.


Giles refused to allow Buffy to be murdered. The master vampire in question had to be found first. Found and taken care of.


He could deal with Buffy and her pain afterwards, help her get through the withdrawal that the loss of the connection would bring. He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. She was the best. She would forever be the best.


Giles knocked on the door of the small flat. At the moment, it was his only option.


“Rupert.” Giles could hear the surprise in the vampires voice. Giles nodded. “May I come in? I had something I wished to discuss with you.”


Angel stepped aside. “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink? I have, ah, water.”


“No thank you.” A long pause followed, and Giles rubbed at his glasses as he attempted to regain his composure. This was harder than he thought. And not for the last time he wondered if he was making the right decision.


The problem was it was looking to be his only choice.


“Have you spoken to Buffy recently?”


Angel immediately straightened his back, obviously alert. “I spoke to her a day or so ago. Why? Is she alright?”


“Fine, she’s fine,” muttered Giles. “I have to ask, have the two of you. . . do you have any sort of relationship? Romantic wise, I mean?”


Angel bowed his head. “No.”


Travers had been right. It wasn’t the souled vampire in front of him. Giles wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that.


“Can I trust you, Angel?” asked Giles seriously. The need to get across how dire the situation they were about to discuss was important. “If handled poorly, it could harm Buffy greatly.”


Angel was quick to respond. “You can trust me.”


Giles decided to give the short version, details weren’t important at the moment. The basics were enough to get the point across. “Every slayer is predestined to have a vampire mate. A master vampire.”


Hope flickered in Angel’s eyes. “Do you mean. . .”


“You would know, It’s likely something would have already happened. There’s some sort of connection, the council isn’t sure exactly what, but it requires no contact between the pair. So you would know.”


“Oh.”


Giles didn’t take the time to be sympathetic. He had known that Angel had developed some sort of feelings for Buffy that went behind friendship, it was even possible that he loved her. And Giles hoped that he could use this to his advantage. Whether out of jealousy or pure worry, he hoped he could gain Angel’s attention enough to the point where he wouldn’t think too deeply about what he was doing. That’s when the questions started. “Resources indicate that Buffy has or is close to finding hers. It is imperative that this doesn’t happen, that they don’t complete the claim.”


“How can I help then?”


“I ask that you watch Buffy closely, see if she does anything unusual, or if you see her hanging out with a vampire, and not killing him,” Giles requested. “But if you do see something, do not act rashly, this needs to be dealt with, but in a delicate manner.”


“Why?”


“You have heard about claims and vampire mates. This is exactly like that, perhaps even stronger.” Giles got up from his seat, prepared to leave and allow the vampire to contemplate the task at hand. He hoped Angel realized how important it was that he worked carefully and quietly. One wrong move, and things could get dangerous far too quickly. “Thank you for your time.”


Angel nodded, too lost in thought. Giles took that and let himself out, ignoring the churning of his stomach.


A/N 2: I just wanted to mention real quick that the two examples above aren’t representatives of all Slayers and their relationship with their intended vampire mate type thing, but simply the ones that the council are aware of.

Chapter Fourteen


I know all about,
Yea about your reputation
And now it's bound to be a heartbreak situation
But I can't help it if I'm helpless
Every time that I'm with you, ah

You walk in and my strength walks out the door
Say my name and I can't fight it any more
Oh I know, I should go
But I need your touch just too damn much
Hey-yeah
Lovin you, yeah, isn't really something I should do
I shouldn't wanna spend my time with you ya
Well I should try to be strong, I should try to be strong
But baby you're the right kind of wrong
“Right Kind of Wrong” - Leeann Rhimes

Willow chewed on her nails nervously. She had broken the best friend code. Really broken. Betrayed one friends confidence in a moment of weakness. A moment of lust for her other best friend.


She hated herself for not being able to resist him. Hated herself for giving into him because of her non-friendy feelings for him.


She was a bad person. Really bad.


Xander had wigged. From jealous rage or worried sympathy, Willow wasn’t sure, but she made him promise not to tell anyone what he knew, especially Buffy. They had just gotten to a really good spot, and to ruin that now would be totally of the bad. Buffy couldn’t find out that she told. She just couldn’t. So Xander was now under the impression that if he squealed, he would grow a nice curly pigs tail, non removable. It was unlikely she had that kind of power or such a thing was even possible, but the threat had the effect she wanted it to. Xander wasn’t going to open his mouth any time soon.


She hated that she gave in like that. And Buffy would so be able to tell, sooner or later. Willow knew she would. Buffy had a sixth sense about those things. It was kind of her job. Sort out the bad guys. Which Willow now was, squealing out her secret like that.


Curse Alexander Harris for his good looks and charming personality. She fell for it, hook, line and sinker every time. She so totally needed to get over him, it was obvious she would never be the object of his affections like, say, Buffy was. She just wasn’t crush material. She was the study buddy, geeky friend that he vented about his crushes to. And she knew it. She knew it and yet she still spilled like the tattle tale she was.


And then, after she had betrayed her trust, Buffy had finally come around again. And with, if possible, a story even more absurd. Possibly believable anyway. She had reacted oddly to the vampire, Spike, in the alleyway, who in turn seemed to know her. Said vampire hadn’t even gone in to attack, Willow remembered suddenly, not that she or Xander had noticed it in their mad rush to get away.


So as crazy as it was, Willow took it as truth, if only in attempt to stay on Buffy’s good side. She felt guilty enough as it was.


How horrible was she?


Her friend was the Slayer. She fought vampires and the supernatural everyday. So why shouldn’t she be able to accept something that was of the odd? Or of the crazy? Or even the unexplainable?


That was it. What Buffy told her was the truth, and she would just accept that without question. And presto, back to happy friendship.


It was probably time to look up some curse or even two. Just in case.


***

They couldn’t keep there hands off each other.


Buffy’s fear from the night before seemed to have faded. She hadn’t hesitated to give him a long kiss the moment she walked through the door. They needed each other, always had and always would. It was as simple as that. It was sudden, the idea that they were actually in each other’s presence, that they weren’t leaving, weren’t going to disappear at the distant ringing of an alarm clock.


It was real. They were real.


Soft kisses soon turned into a frenzy of passion. Hot, desperate kisses shared between the pair, hands touching every bit of skin they could find. Suddenly nothing but them mattered. Books lay forgotten at their side. Family and friends just a part of the outside world. They simply needed to feel the other, allow their bodies to recognize what their heads already knew.


That they belonged to each other.


And as they grew closer Spike found it harder and harder to deny his growing feelings for the girl. Lust aside, it went beyond the connection they shared. He knew everything about her, the girl had rambled on enough for the better part of the year about her hopes and dreams, and every other thought that she had under the sodding sun; it was hard not to become enamored with her. There was such a sparkle to her, that it was almost impossible to ignore.


He tried to ignore the feeling that he knew was developing inside him. He had been burned too many times, and he knew if she was to look down upon him like the others, that the rejection could very well break him. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t deny it. Every part of him was completely devoted to her. Man and Demon. Heart and Mind. Everything.


Oh sure, he had been devoted to Dru. He had been her sodding slave. But he realized, after comparing it to this, what he felt for Buffy, that what he thought had been love was only mere obligation, fabricated into what his inner William had always wanted. Someone to hold at night.


He couldn’t hold Dru. She had always been somewhere else. But Buffy, she was someone he could cling to, someone he could trust, someone he didn’t have to put up a facade for. There was no doubt in his mind.


He couldn’t deny it anymore. He was in love with her. Now the only question that remained was whether or not he could tell her? But he knew the answer. He had to wait till another day, when all thoughts of doubt had fled her mind. He wanted her to know he meant it, and maybe, just maybe have the reassurance that she would say it back.


“Got you all hot for me,” he whispered with wicked delight, taking a nip at her neck. “Squirming in my lap, all wet for me.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her confusion and the fact that Buffy was still all ripe and innocent swam back into his mind.


“A what with a huh?”


Spike laughed at her innocence, his demon finding it oddly empowering. The mere thought of him having that part of Buffy, the part that he would be sure no other man would ever know had the demon growling in triumph. But his inner William, while head over heals in love with the chit, was severely angered at the mere thought of taking advantage of her. The tug-o-war within his mind did nothing to ease his insecurities, however, confusing him even more.


“Just thinking how much I want you baby,” said Spike, his body heavy with disappointment as he removed his hand from her lace covered breast. She didn’t flinch like he thought she would at his statement. In fact, she almost seemed oddly pleased. Spike shifted in an attempt to ease his desire. “You had a reason for coming here, yeah? Rushed in here all excited earlier.”


She pouted, her lower lip jutting out making it impossible for him to resist her. “I missed you.”


“You were rambling on about something or other. Before we got distracted.”


“Nice distracted,” she teased, her lips moving to reclaim his.


“Very nice,” he murmured, vaguely aware that they had gotten nowhere fast.


“I - oh - I needed to tell you something.” Figured she would come back to it now, when she had gotten them all hot and bothered again.


“Yeah? What?” asked Spike between kisses.


“Yeah.”


He loved how he affected her. A simple touch and she was a puddle of goo in his arms, melting against him. She was absolutely delicious, she was. Set his body on fire, the smell of her obvious arousal driving him crazy as he tried desperately to control his need to take her right then and there. She wasn’t ready, at least not in mind.


“Pet?”


Buffy gave a noncommital sound as she reacted to his hand finding his way back to her breast. “I forgot.”


He pulled back, rubbing small circles on her back not wanting to lose contact. She needed to focus, and he wasn’t helping matters much. Besides, he still had the journal entry to update her about. Spike shuddered as the unpleasant thought re-entered his mind. As much as he wanted answers, he didn’t much like the ones he had found on that piece of paper. The reminder that he had to keep in control because they had no idea what would happen if they didn’t. Had a mystery to solve, they did, as much as it pained him to stop his new favorite past time. “Wanna continue that thought, pet?”


He watched her blush. “Oh, I told mom about me being the Slayer and she didn’t even throw me in the crazy house or anything. She just bought me pretty shoes. See?” She wiggled her feet spread out in front of her.


“Good on her. And ‘bout time you listened to me on that count, eh? Nice big I told you so for ya.” She stuck her tongue out at him, which he playfully snapped at. It was true though. Several times she had complained about her mother’s lack of trust in her, and several times Spike had told her the solution, told her that the only way was to gain the trust was tell her mother her secret life, and not let up until she believed her. “Won’t have to knock her head in, now will I?” She gave him slap to the head. “Joke pet, wouldn’t harm your lot. Don’t got a need for a death wish, you know that.”


“I suppose,” agreed Buffy, satisfied. She snuggled deeper into his arms, if that were even possible. “Oh, and I told Willow.”


His eyes snapped to hers at that, flashing with anger and worry. The knowledge that she could have very well signed their own death warrants wasn’t lost on him. One slip of the tongue to the wrong person and they could very well have a disaster on their hands. “What?” He demanded, and perhaps a bit more harshly than he should have.


“Take a chill pill,” said Buffy. “I know me and Willow had that thing. But it’s totally cool now.”


“Buffy. . .”


“You gotta understand, Willow - she’s the geeky book type. She likes solid fact. I gave her solid fact. And now she’s all with the supportive. No need to worry.”


“You’re gonna have to have another chat with her then, make sure she keeps her gob shut or something. Can’t let this get out,” Spike insisted, squeezing her arms tightly in his desperation.


“Ouch, that hurts,” gasped Buffy. Letting go, Spike mumbled an apology. “What’s your deal? You’re all wiggy.”


“I found something earlier,” he mumbled, handing her the journal entry. He had briefly considered not even showing it to her. The contents had the definite potential of scaring her off, have her running in the opposite direction, never to be seen by his eyes again. One wrong move and this could all turn bad in a split second, and Buffy’s sole purpose was to attempt to keep the bad from happening. Not wait it out to see how everything could go down.


And then there was that little voice inside his own head that said maybe they were better off running in the opposite direction. In that, he could protect himself. But more, he could protect her from the horror the girl who wrote that entry went through.


But he couldn’t leave. The pull wouldn’t allow it. The mere thought tugged painfully at his insides.


“Oh my God,” she gasped, her eyes wide. “Oh my God.”


“Yeah, bit of a let down,” Spike stated.


“This . . . they . . . and the . . .” she was struggling to find the words, and Spike wondered if there was a possible way to reassure her. “We’re not the only ones.”


“Bit of a relief, I’m not the only sucker to have gone against their nature and play nice with the Slayer,” said Spike. “Could do without the impending doom though.”


She didn’t respond and he could see the wheel turning within her head. “Where did you find it?” she asked quietly, a good indication that she already had an inkling where it was.


“Those Council records over there. Bunch of wankers.”


“So they knew?”


“Knew,” barked Spike. “Bloody hell, Slayer, of course they knew. And most likely long before this occurred.”


“Do you think . . .” Do you think my Watcher knows, she obviously wanted to ask. “It’s doubtful he doesn’t,” Spike responded gently.


Her eyes lit up suddenly. “So maybe I could ask him then. He could tell us what it’s all about, give us some answers.”


“No,” said Spike firmly, his tight grip on her arms returning, softening slight when she let a gasp of pain.


“But . .”


“Buffy, no. They kept this hush for a reason. They don’t want the Slayers to find out about it and go running off with some vamp.”


She looked confused. She obviously didn’t understand, didn’t remember how dangerous he actually was. She didn’t know how difficult it was for him to keep the demon down, even when he was around her. He hated to remind her. “Why?”


“Vampires, pet. We’re monsters. Evil. Just because we’re mysteriously linked to our natural enemy, doesn’t likely change that, yeah?”


“You changed.” His eyes softened slightly, she had faith in him, it was almost reassuring.


“Maybe,” Spike agreed. “But you think that Watcher is going to belief a word of that, just because you tell him? I know you trust him, but you can’t with this, not unless you want to be six feet under.”


She nodded. “Alright.”


“And you’ll make sure that friend of yours keeps her trap shut?”


“Willow can keep a secret,” Buffy said with such certainty that Spike hoped she was right.


Silence fell over them, and Spike could feel the nerves off of her. “It’ll be alright luv, won’t let that happen to us. Everything will be right as rain and all that rot.”


“Hope so,” she mumbled, but along with her sniffle he could hear the doubt in her voice.


***


Xander felt bad for taking advantage of Willow like that. Knowing that she couldn’t resist his pout, or his face, or any of him for that matter. And who could blame her? He was a handsome devil, alright.


It had been Buffy’s secret, he should have respected that. But he was Buffy’s friend too, so she would probably have told him eventually.


Besides everyone knew Willow couldn’t keep a secret. She always cracked under pressure. Buffy would have known the risks when she told.


Xander was concerned though. Buffy was obviously having some sort of problem. Convinced that a simple figment of her imagination was some sort of real figure, actually existed. Something was wrong, and Willow obviously thought so too. The frown on her face as she told certain parts said it all, she didn’t understand it either, it confused her. And nothing ever confused Willow.


If it had that much of an affect on Buffy though, then it had to be something outside of her control. A spell or a curse of sorts. Which would mean he would have to do a little digging to find out how to break such a thing. That wasn’t squealing, at least not until he had to ask someone to help him break it. And he was pretty sure Willow would help out, so that didn’t even matter.


Which brought him to The Magic Shop for some much needed supplies. Buffy needed help, she would see that when she was well again. And hey, if she happened to see him as her Knight in Shining armor, so be it, who was he to complain.


“What are you doing here, Harris? Couldn’t get the girls naturally, so going to do a love spell instead?”


“Could say the same to you,” retorted Xander. “Or is it perhaps your daily wart remover that brings you here?”


“And you wonder why the girls don’t flock towards you.”


“May I help you, Cordelia?”


Cordelia played with a few of the trinkets, and didn’t seem inclined to answer his question. Instead she simply continued to bait him, he was beginning to think it was one of her favorite past times. “Must hurt. The fact that Buffy finally landed herself a guy, and it wasn’t you.”


Buffy had a boyfriend. Since when. “What?”


“She didn’t tell you? How sad.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and Xander wanted nothing more to wipe the smug look from her face. “What? No witty retort? No stupid jokes? Losing our touch, are we?”


“Out of my way, Cordelia.” Xander didn’t feel like listening to her jabs at the moment. He was disappointed, and hurt. And he had no idea why it completely blind sided him. He had seen what he wanted to see. He should have just listened to Buffy, and got over her when she had said she would only ever see him as a friend.


Though, it also wasn’t unlikely that Cordelia was simply lying. He would have known if Buffy had a boyfriend. That wasn’t exactly something you could hide was it?


Damn.


“You didn’t really think you had a chance, did you?”


“I don’t know what your problem is Cordelia, but get over it, because F.Y.I., no one really cares what you think.” He left the money on the counter and left the shop, not noticing the angry look on Cordelia’s face when he left.


***

Her daddy was here, she could feel it. As was William and his sunshine, both too lost in each other to notice their world beginning to crumble from the outside. They were kiddies, not knowing the way of their world. So sad. So, so sad.


But in that, she could find her peace. With their union came the opening in which Drusilla could finally have her daddy back. His pesky soul no longer a problem, he would be hers again. Just as it should be, as it would always be.


Oh the destruction they would bring together. The blood and fire, they could paint the world red together, drinking tea and dancing among the heat, hot against their icy skin. It was a dream come true, the stars sang in her ears. It was what she wanted, what they wanted, and the sunshine and her kiddies were too lost to notice.


Drusilla danced. It was time at last.

Chapter Fifteen

See your face every place that I walk in
Hear your voice every time I am talking
You will believe in me
And I will never be ignored

I will burn for you
Feel pain for you
I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart
I'll tear it apart

I will lie for you
I can steal for you
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see
You're just like me
"#1 Crush" - Garbage



Buffy hated that she was turning into that girl. The type of girl that worried about what their guy thought about how she looked, and every other little detail about their life that a guy really shouldn't have any say in what-so-ever. It wasn't cool. But the thought didn't stop her from trying on every outfit in her closet, analyzing Spike's possible reactions, and what it could possibly say about her.


Supposedly - according to the journal entry - he was already pretty much dedicated to her. She didn't have to worry about this stuff. That didn't stop her though. She really wanted him to like her.


Even after the information they had found yesterday.


Buffy had no intention of ever going postal over some guy. She had no intention of ever giving up her life because of a break-up, some accident, or the death of said guy. That wasn't who she was either. She was The Slayer, independent, and girl power all the way.


That wasn't to say she wouldn't cry or mourn the loss, that was natural, but no way would she find the nearest cliff and dive off head first. She wasn't that girl. Buffy was stronger than that. And Spike had better not be thinking that's what would happen.


She couldn't help but worry though. The dreams were what brought them together, what started this whole thing. They still weren't sure what feelings were caused by something they couldn't grasp, and what emotions were still their own. For all she knew, Buffy could only like Spike because of some supernatural force. She could be forced to feel the way that she did, even though that felt like the farthest thing from the truth.


It was confusing.


And because of the confusing thoughts Buffy could act in a way that she wouldn't normally without even knowing it. She could be forced to do something she would never do. She could be convinced to die before she was ready just like that other girl, simply because of connection and feeling that may or may not be her own. She didn't like that idea. Not one bit.


But boy did she hope they were her own. The feeling she got with Spike, well, she never wanted to lose that feeling. It was good. Great. Sometimes too great.


Buffy groaned and threw one of her blouses across the room. No good. None of it was good enough.


"Need any help?"


Buffy froze mid sweep. She had just been about to push all the offending clothes off the bed, so she could fall onto it and wish all her problems away. It had promised to be a good, old fashioned angst fest for the fifteen minutes she had before having to leave for patrol. Leave it to her mother to ruin such a thing for her.


"No."


"Is everything okay?" she asked with concern. "I thought you were just going - um - hunting tonight."


Buffy rolled her eyes. What was this? Twenty questions. "It's patrol. And I am."


"And that requires a new outfit?" God. She had that little smile along with the knowing mother look. The look that clearly said Buffy wasn't going to get out of this room without having some sort of a talk.


Buffy shrugged. No way was she going to volunteer any information to her mother. "Sometimes."


Her mother started to make herself busy by picking up some of the clothes that had landed on the floor. "You've been worrying yourself over that a lot lately." she noted, placing one of the shirts on a hanger.


"I've been playing bait," decided Buffy. It was a reasonable lie if there ever was one. "Demons like girls in a pretty outfit."


With the way she raised her brow, Buffy could tell her mother hadn't bought that story for a minute. Since when had she become so transparent? Oh yeah, when she had told her mother the biggest secret ever and no longer had to sneak out the window just to save the world. "Buffy."


"Yes?"


"Do you have a boyfriend?" she asked with a cheesy grin.


"What? No," insisted Buffy. Spike had been quite clear that no one could find out that she had been seeing anyone. Vampire or otherwise. It would raise suspicions. He had blown a gasket when she told him Willow had found out, she doubted he would like it if her mom was let in on the secret as well. Even if it was his idea to try this whole new honesty thing she had going on with her mother.


He was worried that it would get back to Giles. She couldn't blame him seeing as she was kind of worried too, along with a whole bunch of other emotions that were mostly negative in origin. Giles had lied to her. They had, had this whole honesty thing going on, and she had thought he had seen her as more than just another Slayer. Maybe he did. But that still didn't change the fact that he kept this big secret from her, that he knew at least some of what she was going through and he still hadn't said word. Ignored the whole thing. How could he? Especially when he had seen what happened to that other girl.


What if the same thing had happened to her? Did he even care? It hurt knowing that he could hide such an important thing from her. And then that raised a whole bunch of other questions about what he may or may not be hiding from her. That wasn't good. She had no idea what to believe anymore, at least from him. Not to mention the Council. They obviously had a role, and it probably wasn't good.


She wanted answers. But she couldn't even ask the questions. She promised Spike she wouldn't, he thought it was too dangerous. And she knew it was, but that didn't quench the desire for answers.


"So the smiles and dreamy expressions are just because of the nice weather?"


"Yuh-huh," said Buffy with an enthusiastic nod.


"Buffy . . ."


"It's true, though. I love me some good weather." Well perhaps that was too enthusiastic.


"Have you forgotten I gave birth to you?"


"Ew. Mom. Not that again."


She rolled her eyes. "Tell me about him," she requested. "I promise not to go all mushy on you or whatever else your worried about."


Buffy blushed in spite of herself simply thinking of all the things that she could say about Spike. Not that she could say most of them. That wouldn't be anywhere near appropriate. "You won't tell anyone?"


"A secret?" her mother said excitedly. She made a gesture of sealing her lips. "Not a soul."


Buffy reckoned she just made her mom's day. She had always been on her daughter's back about boys and dating. Buffy guessed that the older woman had somehow gotten it into her head that if she started dating, she would be less likely to get into trouble. It seemed, since meeting Spike, that trouble was brewing just beneath the surface. She felt the impending doom - only increasing when she had read the diary entry - getting closer. The only problem was that she couldn't bring herself to do anything about it simply because that would mean giving up Spike. That wasn't happening.


She hoped that didn't mean she was messed up or something.


The problem with telling her mother though, was not that she didn't want to, but what could she actually say? Spike was a vampire, if she told her mother that, the whole nice relationship that they had just built would go down the drain. Her mother would probably lock her in her room with the intention of never letting her out again. As much as she liked the whole honesty thing she had going on with her mom, Buffy kind of liked Spike more. No offense to her mom, of course.


What to say? What to say?


"He's nice. Sweet." Most of the time. He was a vampire, so Buffy was sure that he was evil at least some of the time. "And he's cute," Buffy added, understating the goodness that was Spike. Cute didn't do him justice, he was hot. Beautiful actually, with those blue eyes and perfect cheekbones. He wouldn't like that term though, not manly enough.


Guys.


Her mother looked at her expectantly. She had that stare that could drag just about anything out of her. She must know that there was some reason Buffy had been so keen on keeping this thing a secret. "Well," started the blonde nervously. "William - that's his name - William, he's a bit older." Half truth. He was way older. Over a hundred years older. But if she told her mom that little fact, she would probably be put in the loony bin or something.


Joyce narrowed her eyes. “How much older?”


“College,” squeaked Buffy, attempting to keep things vague, hopefully she wouldn’t ask for specifics at the moment. Spike could pass for a college guy. Possibly.


She raised an eyebrow, biting her lip as she obviously tried to keep herself from blurting out that Buffy was in no way allowed to date an older guy, let alone one in college. She could just imagine the horrible thoughts floating through her mother’s mind. “And how long have you been dating?”


“Well, he - uh - transferred here a few months ago, but we wrote letters - e-mails actually - for about a year before that,” Buffy explained nervously, attempting to keep her hands still so she wouldn’t look as though she was fidgeting. Okay, that was a lie, but in a way it still paralleled the truth.


Silence fell, and Buffy could tell that her mother was doing some serious thinking. “I think I should meet this boy. Tomorrow night. For dinner.”


Buffy opened her tightly squeezed eyes. No yelling. No deadly serious tones. So far everything was on the good side of things. But then she processed what her mother had actually said, and the panic set in. This would not go over well with Spike, but she knew her mother’s tone booked no room for argument. It was either meet the parents, or white walls for the majority of her very short life. And as good as she was at it, Buffy did not want to spend the rest of her high school years sneaking out of her bedroom window. She had just gotten past that nasty habit.


“Alright,” said Buffy in her best attempt to keep her voice chipper, and not let the worried grimace peak through. Why, oh why did she have to bury herself in another pack of lies. This would never end well.


***

Before going to Spike's crypt Buffy had stopped by Willow's to head her up on the importance of keeping her relationship with Spike quiet. If it hadn't seemed important before, it was now. This way she would at least have some good news for Spike when she stopped by, because he was so going to blow his top when she told him what her mom knew, not to mention the upcoming meeting.


She felt bad though. Willow looked like she got way nervous when she told her. Buffy really shouldn’t have said anything in the first place, keeping this secret was a lot to ask, she supposed. But the red head seemed to understand the importance, which was of the good. She could officially tell Spike that they had nothing to worry about.


That, however, didn't really matter at the moment. How in the world was she supposed to think when he was doing that thing with his tongue? Granted she had started the make out session - or snogging as Spike would call it - but just the same. The whole idea was to soften him up, not turn her into a pile of goo so she couldn’t form a coherent thought. She really needed to focus.


Oh. But the tongue mastery really was not helping.


Focus. She had to keep her mind on the goal, even if what he was doing was making her want to do everything but stop. It would only get harder if she put it off any longer.


“Spike,” she said, although it came out more like a moan and less like an order. “Spike.” Okay that was more like a yelp, but it got his attention. He was looking at her in alarm, his fingers checking her neck making sure there wasn’t any damage.


"What?" His voice was rough with passion and concern.


She grabbed both his hands and held them tight in her lap before attempting to reassure him. He had the whole big bad thing going on, but Buffy was rapidly discovering his softer side. “I’m fine, just need to talk to you.”


He leaned back in, attempting to capture her lips with his again. “Later,” he whispered. And boy did later sound good when she felt his soft lips against hers. Kissing: Her activity of choice. But no. She had to be firm, she needed to focus on the crisis of her mother’s overbearing habits.


“Mom,” she squeaked. That got his attention, he was on the other side of the couch before she could blink.


“There’s a mood breaker,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair; something she wished she was doing at that moment. “What’s got your knickers in a twist now?”


“You have to come to dinner tomorrow night,” Buffy stated rapidly.


“I have to?” he repeated, with a raised brow.


Buffy nodded seriously. “Or it’s off with my head.”


”What’s with the sudden need to brag to the world? Thought you were going to keep your trap shut?"


“I didn’t. And I did. She just knew. It’s like she has this superpower that keys her in when I’m hiding something,” said Buffy dramatically. “It’s freaky.”


“And what exactly are you hiding from her now?” Kay. Now Spike was making with the freakiness, was she the only person that was unable to detect exactly when someone was concealing something from her. “Your guilt shows in your eyes.”


Buffy pouted. “Does not.”


“I think I’m the better judge of that, pet,” he stated. “So what’s the cover story?”


Buffy averted her eyes from his piercing ones. “Well, she knows you’re older.”


“Right, so she thinks I’m a dirty old man,” he mumbled. “Anything else?”


“Well, not so much with you’re a vampire, but she does know we’ve been communicating for over a year. Um, through e-mail.”


“Dirty old man that gets his kicks by stalking helpless girls on the computer. Check.” Well, he didn’t have to make it sound so bad.


“She does not think that,” said Buffy. “Well, probably, she has a tendency to think the worst. But she’s giving you a chance, so you better make the best of it.”


He raised a brow, showing that he was obviously skeptical of this new plan. “You’ll have to be real nice, of course. And you have to act human. You know how to do that right?”


“I’ve had some practice.”


Good. That was good. She would save questions on that interesting revelation for later. “And you’ll have to clean up your look.”


“‘M not wearing a suit.”


Buffy’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought about that. But now that he mentioned it, wardrobe was a very important part of the good first impression process. She was clearly under thinking the importance of this entire thing. They had a lot of work to do. “You have to.”


“No,” replied Spike stubbornly. “There is nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.”


Buffy wrinkled her nose. “You look like some gothic, punk guy, gang member.”


"Gothic, punk guy, gang member?"


"Well, you do," she insisted with a huff.


"I know for a fact you like this look, Goldilocks," he said with a leer.


"Like it or not," said Buffy with what she hoped was indifference. "My mom won't. And you have to make a good impression. It's important."


"So important that you lied to her about me being a vampire and just about everything else?"


"Well, I wanted her to like you, not lock me up," insisted Buffy. "Besides you said not to tell anyone."


“Good point," agreed Spike. "But that wasn't why you did it. I think you underestimate your mum. Should give her more credit.”


Um, no. “Because telling her that I’m dating a vampire that I’ve some sort of mystical connection to would go over real well," stated Buffy, with a roll of her eyes. “Besides you don’t even know her.”


"And I'm not going to get to know her dressed like a ponce."


“You have to.” And then she pouted. Spike could never resist her pout. And sure enough. . .


“I’ll wear blue jeans, and a dress jacket. No tie.”


“Deal,” said Buffy happily, knowing that was probably the best she was going to get. There was one obstacle covered. Now the only thing left to fret over was the event itself. Which only meant one thing for certain. They were officially doomed.

Chapter Sixteen

So this ordeal we're subjected to
Is all part of being (in) love?
Two minds of intense confusion
Contained in feelings of spite and mistrust

The closer one of us tries to get
The further the (other) seems to move

Tangled in trapped emotions
Can't face the prospect of rejection
Uncertainty arouses suspicion
Of your mind I want possession

I try to be honest with you
But are you being honest with me?
"Emotional Suffocation" - Napalm Death




It wasn’t like him to be this nervous. For a while now, he had been passing back and fourth outside Buffy’s front door as he tried to gather the courage to press the tiny button that would alert the two girls inside that company had arrived. He was a mess, and he didn’t like it. Not a bit.


It had to be the tie. It made him look and act like one of those sniffling idiots that twitched whenever they were in the presence of a girl. It would explain the sweaty palms.


Spike loosened the black tie slightly, stretching his neck as he did so. It was too bloody tight, wasn’t letting him think straight. Yes, that was it. The fact that the tie was simply too tight was doing something to his brain. He wasn’t nervous at all, just on the verge of very slowly squeezing his brain out through his ears. He should just do away with it, he wasn’t the suit and tie type of guy.


He needed to make a good first impression though. Find a way to cover up the anger that the lie he was about to walk into would eventually cause. It was a known fact that by having a relationship with Buffy, he would have to eventually communicate with her friends and family at the very least. And with the intentions he had towards this woman’s daughter, the promise of forever, he needed to lay the proper groundwork. That way, when it all went up in flames, he would have some sort of security to fall back on.


It was things like this that made him miss his days of evil and mayhem. Not that he wasn’t still evil - the demon was still very much a part of him - it was just that with the dreams and Buffy, his priorities had shifted. Something in him had insisted that she gets what she needs, insisted that he had to cater to her desires instead of simply giving into his basic primal urges. Perhaps that was an instinct in and of itself. After all, he had every intention of claiming her one of these days, and in order to do that she would have to agree.


He cared though. Had he not - as much as he did anyway - he would have just dragged her by the hair back to his crypt, drained and turned her, and then claimed her. None of those nasty problems and questions they kept running into would be in the way anymore. It would be just them. Forever.


He wouldn’t have to worry about telling her either. For a while now he had pondered the thought about whether or not he should simply tell her how he felt. Tell her that he was well on his way to falling in love with her. Finding an answer to didn’t matter anymore, because he was positive that it had nothing to do with the dreams, or the unexplainable connection they shared, it was just simply how he felt. Buffy still had her doubts though, which made it almost impossible. As much as she wanted to deny it, a part of her still couldn’t forget that they didn’t understand how these dreams worked. She feared that the dreams somehow created what they felt for each other. He couldn’t deny that they were a big part of it. The dreams were what brought them together, they were a part of the reason why he had changed as he had, but Spike didn’t think they could force the actual feelings themselves. Something like that was simply not possible. Was it?


She wanted the proof though, and that meant Spike had to wait impatiently for the truth with her. He wanted to tell her, take that next step that would get them even closer to taking the final big one, but the doubts she still possessed always stopped him. Because as long as there were doubts, as tiny as they were, the possibility that he could be shot down still remained. Something he couldn’t have, not from her.


And there was a good reason as any for wearing the tie. Just another in a long list of things that he did to show her what he was willing to do. Even if it meant dressing up for a woman he didn’t know to support a lie that he knew was going to make things worse in the long run.


He just hoped that Buffy knew she was going to have to make this whole thing worth his while. He couldn’t be going around doing things like wearing ties and meeting mothers like some civilized teenage boy for nothing. He needed something to hold up his image.


He rang the doorbell with the hope he didn’t look as transparent as he felt. It was going to be a long night.


****


Buffy looked at her reflection in the mirror. God, what was she thinking. It was just a dinner with her mom. And Spike. Spike, who was going to be there, all dressed up. And who she wanted to look nice for simply because he was going through all this trouble for her. Meeting her mother. Lying to her mother. It was really, really nice of him. So yeah, she was trying to dress up for him. Just like she did every other night. Doing the exact same thing that had gotten them into this mess in the first place.


How pathetic was she?


She doubted he would even notice the extra effort she had put into her hair and clothes. But then again she knew he would. He always did. He never said as much, but he always gave her an appreciative smile-slash-smirk as he looked her over before he pulled her into his arms for his usual greeting.


In fact, Spike did a lot of wonderfully sweet things that were uncharacteristic of some big bad evil vampire. He tried to play them off. He simply wouldn’t accept being considered anything less than the Big Bad. He couldn’t possibly tarnish his precious reputation, after all. But the gentle touches and concerned words still snuck their way through. Something that made her look forward to their time together all the more. A period that was much too short for her liking, despite the fact that she spent as much of her free time with him as possible. He helped with her homework before she went home for dinner, and then after they would meet up for some bonding and a quick patrol. And then, at night, she slept within the safety of his arms inside of their hide away.


It was perfect. And Buffy dreaded having to face the reality of the situation. The causes of the dreams that made her world seem so much lighter. Such a thing couldn’t possibly be good. Because good things, things this good, simply did not happen to her. Not without a catch.


But she needed to know, because like it or not, Buffy was falling fast. Well actually, she was quite sure she had already fallen. Okay, so there was no doubt. She tried to repress it, tried to make excuses, tried everything to protect her heart, but the fact of the matter still remained that she was in love with Spike. He was the real deal, not just some passing fancy.


Her biggest fear had been that the dreams had simply fabricated her feelings for him. Like they had heightened their senses, she was afraid that they had heightened their tolerance for each other as well. The fear that everything she had allowed herself to feel within the grove would disappear in reality often consumed her. It was the reason she had refused to admit her feelings, she didn’t want to give that up, give up the love that surrounded her within the wooded forest.


Her feelings hadn’t lessened any in the real world however, much to her relief. In fact, the only thing that changed was her ability to understand them. Her ability to sort through them, knowing that what she was allowing her mind to wander toward was real, and not just her being crazy. Perhaps she was stupid, and she was sure many would jump at the chance to tell her that she was, but she loved him. And at the moment that was all she really cared to think about.


With him she was safe, and that was all she really ever wanted. To be able to crawl into someone’s arms and feel protected. Every day she spent her time protecting the world from vampires and every other monster of the night. She simply wanted - and needed - someone to do the same for her. Someone who gave her the chance to rest. That was what Spike and the dreams gave her. She could trust him with her life, and she could trust him with her secrets, and ever so slowly, she was beginning to trust him with her heart.


The doorbell rang, and Buffy felt her heart begin to pound against her chest. She really hoped her mother liked him. It would make things so much easier.


Buffy bounced down the stairs. She really hoped Spike liked her dress.