Disclaimer : The characters are the property of Joss Whedon. He is a God even if he made some mistakes. Us loving fans are only striving to correct them. All bow to Spike’s creator. I sure do at least.

Timeline: Set during S5 but I screwed around with some of the timing. Riley left at the end of S4 because he couldn't deal with the slayer side of Buffy. Joyce is not sick yet and No sign of Glory. The Scoobies are slowly starting to accept Spike and he and Buffy have a friendly animosity going on.

a/n This one is dedicated to 2 wonderful writers, HollyDB and Eurydice. They don’t know me but their stories are the reason I write. I worship them. Cortina and Holly, Rosa and Zach rocks. With many thanks, I hope you like this if you ever read it.

Currently unbetaed.

There was something deeply soothing about rain. Not the hard and heavy kind but the soft kind, the one that fell gently to pelt on the windows. The kind without the fireworks of lightning and thunder, the kind that made you want to curl up on the couch with a book or a movie, dressed in pajamas.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the kind that was falling outside. No there had to be wind and it had to be a downpour. Blah, she thought, trying to convince herself that it was still comforting, and that it might cool her a bit. The heat was oppressive and a cool shower would be great. Except, it wasn’t a shower, it was a thunderstorm, and she didn’t want to have to go outside. Especially since patrol had been a bust lately. But the slayer took no vacations and she was somehow sure that one night off would be all that was needed for the next apocalypse to roll into town.

Man, this was California , the land of the sun, didn’t Mother Nature knew that? Not for the first time, she wished that she could truly share the burden of her calling with someone else.

Oh, the Scoobies were great, but they were also human, even if Willow and Tara ’s powers were kind of nifty. She sighed dejectedly and opened the door she had been staring at for the last fifteen minutes. The curtain of rain she faced had her reaching back to pull her long hair in a ponytail that wouldn’t get in her way as she, hopefully, fought. It would also prevent the rain from blinding her too much. How was it that she could fight vampires and demons but that she had to gather her courage to go out in one little storm?

She shook her head, a smile of irony on her lips. Maybe it was because storms on the Hellmouth usually signified something bad was about to happen. It could also have nothing at all to do with the storm and everything to do with her frame of mind. She had been feeling so damn lonely lately. Her friends were in love and didn’t seem to realize that she existed anymore, and Giles was to busy with the Magic Box to have noticed anything. Even her mom and Dawn seemed oblivious. She almost wished that Riley hadn’t left, because then she could have gotten smoochies. Granted, they weren’t exactly earth shattering smoochies, but still. You know you’re going crazy and too long without a guy when you start missing Riley. Any guy who leaves because he couldn’t handle who she was…Hell, I can’t even fool myself. Most days I can’t even handle who I am but do I leave? This leaving thing was driving her crazy, was something wrong with her?

She set up toward Restfield, thinking that a fight with the bane of her existence was exactly what she needed. Whatever you thought about him, and she did think a lot of things about him, he could always cheer her up with an old fashioned round of insult. Okay, she would have preferred a real fight, no holds bared but since that was impossible with the chip in his head, she would have to do with a shouting match. She was already planning which insults would work best when she was grabbed from behind and she only had a second to realize that she had never felt anyone was near before she felt a pinprick on her neck.

She started to turn around, happy to have a chance to break the funk she had been sinking in when the world started to blur. She shook her head, and when her vision cleared she put the episode on the fact that she had forgotten to eat lunch. She whirled and ducked, before sending a spin kick toward the aggressor that still remained unseen. She started to swing when her body went numb. She was rooted to the spot, her body feeling as though a thousand ants were making their way across it. Her skin itched and her blood burned and she couldn’t seem to raise her hands to do anything about it. She dropped to the sodden mud, her body alive with pain but unable to move, her eyes unfocused and her heart beating wildly in her chest. The world surrounding her went black as she lay there, trying to understand what was happening. She had a minute to wonder if maybe the storm had really been a sign before she felt hands on the band of her low rise jeans. She tried to scream, knowing there was a chance Spike was out hunting vamps in the cemetwry but she couldn’t get her voice out. The only things that seemed to be working were her brain and her lungs. And I guess my heart, because if it wasn’t working then I’d be dead, right? She had been so busy with trying to analyse what part of her body were working that she failed to notice that she was being divided of her pants and underwear. She came back to what was happening, blind to everything when she heard a strangely distorted voice above her.



“Well, I see we got ourselves a slayer. Boys, we will be famous after this. I’ll be the idol of every demon and vamp in the world for this. A slayer, THE slayer, drugged, raped, tortured AND killed. My name will be whispered in awe and fear.”



The words and the feel of a blade sliding across the skin of her tight had her grasping what was happening. God, please, not this. I’m the slayer, I’m supposed to die preventing an apocalypse or fighting something, not like this, not helpless. Please, I can’t let mom and Dawn down. God, I know I have an expiration date, but not so soon, I’m not ready to die yet. Who will take care of Wills and Xander, and Anya and Tara and Giles? Who will make sure Spike doesn’t do something stupid and gets dusted? If he’s going be dust, I’m the one who should do it, he’s my vampire after all. He’s been helping a lot lately, with the Dracula thing and with Tara ’s family, and with the Dawn-sitting. Lost in terror, she didn’t realize that he was the one she was scared the most about. Some part of her knew that the others would managed but Spike…Stupid vamp. Why is he always around but when I need him to come to the rescue, he’s not? Spike! Get your bleached ass here and help me or I swear I’ll dust you dead! She cried out silently to the missing vampire, while her body was cut, her blood slowly drained out of her body as it was violated repeatedly by a number of faceless bodies. After several long moments, she was left alone, her life slipping away as the priceless slayer blood soaked the earth beneath her, her soul still crying out desesperatly for the one person she knew could save her.

 

Spike was having a drink at Willy’s when he felt the urge to go to the cemetery.  Something was calling to him.  Since he was on his way to being pleasantly drunk, he pushed the feeling aside.  He was going bunkers because of the Slayer.  He didn’t know what was worse: the truce they seemed to have at the moment or the open hostility of the past.  Swearing, he shot back the glass of whiskey that was on the bar before motioning for another hit.

Something was wrong with the Slayer these days and bugger if he knew what.  She was friendly enough with everyone, but he could see that she was keeping herself distant.  At least she hadn’t threatened to stake him for a few months now, and even the Scoobies seemed to be more accepting of him.  The only exception was the Whelp but Spike had a suspicion that the insults were mostly for show these days.  Well, Spike knew his were.

 

Spike still considered himself the Big Bad, no matter what every demon and vamp in the hell hole that was Sunnyhell thought.  Maybe he had sat with Dawn when Joyce was busy.   Maybe he was now a frequent visitor of the house on Revello, but that didn’t mean anything, did it?

 

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself mate.  You know full well that you are completely in love with the Slayer and that you would do anything for the two others Summers’ women.  Spike thought to himself. The Scoobies aren’t that bad.  Even the Whelp has his moments. As for the Watcher it feels good to have a fellow Brit around, even if this one does remind me a bit of William.

The call was growing more urgent now, and Spike’s knee was bouncing with the urge to run.  He growled and slapped his money on the counter before stalking a bit drunkenly toward the door.

 

There was something in the air tonight, a foreshadow of something terrible.  A scent of pain and fear that Spike would have revelled in a few years earlier hung in the air.  Tonight that scent of fear unsettled him. The town was quiet, as if everyone knew that this was a dark night, filled with something potentially catastrophic.  Unsettled and uneasy, he quickened his pace through the darkened streets of Sunnydale.

   

Spike was a few streets from Restfield when the smell hit him. The combination of blood, sex, pain and slow death filled him with dread.   When he caught the particular scent on the air, his knees nearly buckled.  Slayer, the wind whispered in his ear.

 

A smell that was once the sweetest smell for his demon, now sent him into utter panic.  He could feel her, the power draining from her like her blood.  Her essence hung heavy in the air.  Vanilla,musk, and a scent that only Buffy carried had been haunting his dream-filled days and his every waking hour.  On this night it was mixed with the stench of coming death.   That realization pushed him to running, desperate to get to her before the unthinkable happened. 

 

Spike vaulted over headstones and grass-covered tombs, around crypts and monuments in a wild race to get to the source of his every desire before it was too late.  He had never been more scared in his life. He was afraid of losing something that wasn’t his, knowing that he could never forgive himself if she died.  If this was the end of Buffy Summers, the best Vampire Slayer he had ever met and the one woman who was his match, he knew that he would meet the sunrise come next morning.

 

All effects of the alcohol Spike had consumed that night vanished when he saw her.  Buffy was laying on the grass naked, and her blond hair   was spread out beneath her in a golden halo under the full moon.   Her skin, once tanned by the California sun, was now marred by myriads of cuts.   Her whole body covered with her own blood.  He could smell semen on the air and the sudden knowledge of what had happened would have stopped his heart if it needed to beat to survive.  He hurried to her side and dropped down, kneeling by her side, in a pool of the blood that was his race’s most desired prize.

 

Spike’s shaky fingers reached towards Buffy’s face but he stopped just before touching her.  Her eyes were wide open, but they stared out at nothing. They were already starting to glaze over with the death that was quickly claiming her body.  He could hear her heart struggling.   It’s beats were more and more spaced out, struggling to pump the blood that was escaping her body.  His demon’s awareness of her presence was growing dimmer by the second even as a part of himself reached out to her, hoping to connect in some way. 

 

Spike brushed his fingers across Buffy’s cheek.  He pushed the strands of hair that were plastered to her damp skin off of her face.  Skin that used to be so warm it always burned him was now growing cold as ice. 

 

Spike knew that Buffy was too far gone for him to take her to the hospital.    The shock of being moved would likely be enough to push her over the threshold of death. A whimper escaped her, causing him to take in an unneeded breath that ended in a choked sob.

“Luv.  Come on Slayer, don’t die on me.  You know the Scoobies will stake me for sure if I let you die on me.  Fight Buffy, please, fight.” Spike whispered, still stroking her cheek. 

Buffy somehow moved her head a little towards him, as his voice reached her fading consciousness.   The eyes that had been unseeing now focused on him, filled with pain and understanding of what was happening.

 

“Talk to me pet.  Tell Spike what he can do to help you.”

 

The green orbs filled with the knowledge that it was too late.  They held a hint of regret that her life was slipping away too fast for him to do anything humanly possible to save her.

 

For a brief instant, Spike could swear he saw determination in the hazel eyes that were the only thing that still looked lively.

 

“That’s it pet, fight.   Don’t give up now.”

 

Buffy’s gaze turned pleading and accepting, as though she was absolving him of what she somehow knew he was thinking.  She was giving him permission to do what needed to be done.   Her soul cried out, and her Slayer side decided that it was not ready to accept this kind of end.

 

The essence of the Slayer was getting stronger even as her life’s blood slipped away.  It knew that despite Buffy’s fear, the result of what Spike could do for her was not the one thing that she had feared all her life.

 

The Slayer’s inner voice whispered that she needed to trust in Spike.  She assured the frightened girl that she would not be the killer she feared of becoming but something more instead.

 

Spike sat back in shock.  He doubted that he really saw in the Slayer’s eyes what he thought he did.  At the barely perceptible twitch of Buffy’s eyes, he knew that he wasn’t imagining it.  Something deep within the woman before him was the acceptance of life in death.

 

With a last sob, Spike leaned down and cradled Buffy’s broken form in his arms.   He bent his head toward her neck and he slipped his fangs on the unmarked side, his demon refusing to claim her over the marks left there by previous masters.  He took three long pulls of the powerful elixir before slashing his wrist with his fangs.  He lifted his arm to her mouth and he waited for her to start swallowing before he realized he tasted venom in her blood. 

 

Spike realized why Buffy hadn’t moved since he had found her.  She was paralyzed and was incapable of even swallowing by herself.  He massaged her throat softly, getting the muscles to clench and release to accept the blood that would change her for all times.

 

Soon, the effect of Spike’s untainted blood allowed Buffy to start moving a little.  His mind was eased when he felt Buffy start drinking deeply on her own. He allowed her to drink her fill of what would be Sire’s blood until he heard her heart beat for the last time. 

 

Spike sat in the middle of the cemetery for a long time. The rain still fell heavily around him, though he wasn’t aware of it. The stench of blood and sex still hung on the air, but the blood that covered Buffy’s body was being washed away. All that was left were thousands of little cuts.



Spike cradled Buffy’s body, watching for the first changes of the turning. Even before she would awaken, the enhanced healing of the heightened vampire body would work its magic. Spike’ mind was going in circles. He was afraid of what would be left of the Buffy he loved when she woke up. Lost in his fear, he forgot all he had ever read and researched about turned slayers.



Finally, Spike felt dawn approaching. In a burst of speed, he got to his feet and carried Buffy toward his crypt. He was half tempted to remain outside with her to greet the sunrise that would allow both of them a final rest. Only the thought that Buffy didn’t deserve the hell he had likely condemned her to pushed him to seek protection.



He kicked open the door of the crypt as the first hint of the sun raised in the sky. He pushed the heavy door closed and his Childe still cradled in his arms, made his way to the ladder that led to the lower level of his home. He bypassed the ladder and simply dropped down softly on the floor, careful not to jar the precious burden he carried.



Spike laid Buffy down on his bed before he headed to his makeshift shower to gather a clean cloth, soap and some water. He wanted to wash away the liquids that still covered her tights. Slowly, almost reverently, he washed away any hints of what had happened to her. He didn’t take any time to admire the bare body that was spread on his comforter. He was trying to purify her and restore some of the dignity that the violation had taken from her. He wanted her to wake up with as few reminders of the event as possible.



With one task done, Spike went to the chest that contained his clothes. He grabbed a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers that Harmony stole the year before, in one of her attempts to dress him. He dressed Buffy gently before carrying her to the armchair that stood in the corner of the room.



I need to change the sheets too, he thought. Wouldn’t do to have the Slayer awake on old sheets. Her new heightened sense of smell would probably pick up the scent of sex and of her blood. Once the bed was clad in fresh black silk, Spike carried Buffy to the bed and tucked her in. He knnew that the weight of the blankets would help her from being too disoriented when she woke up.



Spike left the candles burning. They were far away enough from the bed for Buffy to be safe. He climbed the ladder, walked to his small refrigerator, and took an inventory of the blood that was left. Need some supplies, he thought absently. He grabbed a bag to replenish his own blood loss, blood that now coursed through Buffy’s body.



Spike drained three bags, not taking the time to warm them first, before his demon was sated. He went back downstairs, and extended his senses to see if he could feel how close Buffy was to waking. The link was tenuous at best, and it reassured him that he had time before she woke up.



Turnings varied for each individual, from a few hours to several days. Confident that Buffy wouldn’t wake up alone, he quickly changed his clothes. The ones from earlier were soaked by the rain and her blood. After he changed, he quickly made his way to the sewer’s access. He had people to see, a mother to reassure, and a Watcher to get yelled at by.



***



The trip to Revello Drive was a quick one. Spike draped himself in the blanket he had thought to bring with him. He dashed from the sewer entrance to the door and let himself in. His inner William scolded Spike at the lack of manners being displayed.

“Mum? Nibblet?”



The Slayer’s mom was sitting on the couch. She got up quickly as Spike crashed inside, faint smoke starting to rise around him.

“Spike? Have you seen Buffy? I know she often comes home late, but she didn’t go to bed at all. I’m worried.”



Spike’s mind swirled with how to tell Joyce what had happened. He motioned for her to sit down again.

“Joyce… Buffy was attacked last night. She’s at my place resting.”



“Is she alright? Is she hurt?” Joyce asked, anxious and worried by the look in Spike’s eyes. There was dread lurking in the blue depths, and the mother in her was terrified by what was implied in that look. She had been going out of her mind with fear all night, and she had a very bad feeling that something terrible had happened to her little girl.



“She… it’s bad Joyce, real bad. I… I found her almost dead last night, in the cemetery.”



“Was it a vampire?” Joyce whispered. Some part of her already knew what Spike would say next.

“I don’t think so. I didn’t go after them yet, but I will.” Spike’s face went steely when he remembered the state Buffy had been in. Someone would pay for what happened, and he fully intended to be the one to request payment. Chip or not, whoever had done this was going to die.



“Spike?” A timid sounding voice out of the usually strong Joyce Summers broke through the air with the unspoken question.



Spike came back to reality and took a deep breath he didn’t need. “She asked me to Joyce. I had no choice. I couldn’t tell her no.” Spike spoke with a broken voice. “I’m so sorry Mum. I couldn’t let her go.”



Instant understanding filled Joyce, and the shock prevented her from seeing the look of abject misery on the vampire’s face.



“You turned her?” Dawn’s voice came from the stairs, accusing and disappointed. Spike was her best friend, but she couldn’t believe he would have done something to Buffy that was her worst fear. She knew he loved Buffy, but how he could have done this.



“I… she was dying. I had no choice. She asked me to. I’m sure she did. It’s going to be alright. I’ll ask the Watcher and the witches to make sure she has her soul when she wakes up.” Spike stammered from one statement to the next in a rush to try to make them both understand that he hadn’t forsaken Buffy.



“I’ll never leave her alone, unless she kills me. She’s everything to me, I couldn’t just let her go, especially like that.” By the last words tears were falling down Spike’s face, and his voice was barely a choked whisper.



Finally seeing the pain and the fear in Spike’s eyes, Joyce stood up. She wrapped her arms around him, and they both shared their pain together She had always had a soft spot for this vampire. His capacity to love astounded her, and she had seen his feelings for her eldest daughter.

She tried to have faith that Spike made the right decision.



Dawn was angry, and she felt betrayed. She marched back up the stairs and closed her bedroom door with a bang. Sure, Spike was different, but Dawn knew firsthand that Spike was unusual for a vampire. What if Buffy didn’t love them any more? What if Buffy staked Spike when she woke up? She buried her face into her pillow and cried.

The sound of a heart beat seemed to echo in the subterranean room.
A few seconds later, another beat echoed just as strongly in the empty room.
Several beats later, the sound of a deep breath echoed in the crypt.
Eyelids fluttered before silver eyes finally opened to their surroundings.



Upon awakening, Buffy’s first thought was Thank you God, I’m not dead. The second one was, Wait a minute…not dead? What the hell happened? She squinted, trying to remember what had happened to her. Memories rushed to her: pain, her blood flowing while her body was violated, and her limbs paralyzed by whatever the hell had been injected into her.



Buffy remembered calling for Spike and his arrival moments before she took her last breaths. She remembered being able to finally open her eyes and look at him. She had seen his torment, and remembered giving him permission to end this. So, why was her heart still beating? She could still taste his blood, rushing down her throat. She should be one of the living dead, but she could hear her heart and felt her lungs working to supply the air that she still needed. Something was wrong.



She carefully lifted her head, unsure of what she would see or how her body would react. Granted, she hadn’t seen what her body had looked like before, but if what she had felt was any indication, it must have been a mess of cuts and bruises. She looked around the room, not quite ready to look at herself yet. She had never been down there before but she assumed that this was the lower level of Spike’s crypt. She knew that there was a lower level because she had seen Spike climb a ladder several times, but she had never seen it. It was dark, lighted only by a few candles that were placed on different surfaces.



Buffy figured she was sitting on Spike’s bed, and the coziness of her surroundings surprised her for a minute. Then again, there was so much she didn’t know about the blond vamp that she shouldn’t be surprised. As she looked around, she knew he wasn’t there, the telling tingles absent.



She wondered at what point they had become Spike’s tingles. She knew that she was able to identify his particular signature, a bit like she used to be able to tell Angel from any other vampire. Spike’s presence always seemed to be stronger to her than Angel’s had ever been. And now, I’m trying to delay this. She thought, dejectedly.



Gathering her courage, Buffy looked down to find herself clothed in one of Spike’s seemingly endless collection of black t-shirt and a pair of boxer that was … Wait a minute. Spike wears boxers covered in hearts? She snickered at the thought. Somehow the picture of Spike wearing these boxers was hilarious.



Hummm, Spike in nothing but boxers. Buffy’s eyes glazed before she shook herself. Bad Buffy, bad bad bad Buffy. No thoughts of naked Spike are allowed. Naked Spike. Yummy naked Spike. Stop it Buffy, just focus. What happened to me?



Buffy pushed aside the blankets and looked herself over. Her skin was unmarred, no hint of cuts or bruises. Even the scars she had accumulated as the slayer seemed to have disappeared. She carefully lifted her hand to her neck and found that instead of the four sets of scars she expected to find there was only one. They were still tender and on the opposite side of her neck from the ones she had gotten by Angel, the Master and Dracula. She figured they were Spike’s mark. So he really did bite me.



She considered her options. Why then is my heart beating? She touched her forehead, a bit scared to find herself with bumpies. When she found it smooth, she opened her mouth and felt around her teeth, looking for fangs. She’d dated a vampire for three years and she definitely kissed him more than once, as well as the spell-induced Spike kissing. She knew that even in human form, there would still be a hint of the hidden fangs. When she found that the place where her canines should grow was more sensitive than usual, she frowned.



“Okay, what’s happening to me?” Buffy said out loud, surprised to hear that her voice seemed lower than usual, with a hint of a growl in it. She got to her feet, intent on finding a mirror.



She stalked lightly around the room, her steps completely silent. Only when she did find a small mirror did it occur to her to wonder why Spike, who didn’t have a reflection, possessed a mirror. When she saw the brush and girlies accessories beside it, she identified it as belonging to Dawn. No doubts her sister must have forgotten them the last time she had come to visit Spike.



Buffy lifted the mirror and stared at herself. Her eyes widen in surprise. It was her and yet not. Her face seemed to be a bit longer than usual. Her eyes were more slanted, and they had an eerie silver glow to them. It was only then that she realized that her vision was different, as well as all her other senses. She could see a faint outline to everything, and she could see traces of what she thought must have been Spike.



A closer examination convinced Buffy that what she saw was the ghost trail of Spike’s earlier pacing. She could also see which items he had touched recently. She could smell him: tobacco, whiskey, power, blood and something else that she couldn’t quite identify. Taking a mental note to ask him about this, she focused on what she had always thought of as her slayer sense. It was in overdrive. She could feel a demon that was several miles away in the sewer, a few not yet risen vamps in their coffin, and a few humans going around the cemetery. Humans? I’ve never been able to feel them before. What AM I?



Buffy wasn’t sure if she could handle sunlight or if she should go home. Deciding that there was nothing else she could do before Spike came back, she climbed the ladder and settled herself on the couch. She grabbed the remote and switched the tv on. She hoped to find something to distract herself. She was fully aware that she was avoiding several issues, namely what had been done to her in the rain-drenched cemetery, but she wasn’t ready to think about that yet.

It took some time to calm the vampire enough for him to tell Joyce what had happened to Buffy. Spike left out some parts, but he had the feeling that she wasn’t fooled and that she knew what he was leaving out of his story.



It was a subdued Spike that followed Joyce to her jeep and waited beside her when she knocked on Giles door. She had called the Watcher, asking him to meet them at his apartment. The Magic Box wasn’t the place for this kind of discussion. Giles had agreed, if a bit warily.



The door opened on a curious, and a bit anxious, Giles. He motioned them inside. “Joyce. Spike. Do come in. What can I do for you?”



“Rupert, it’s Buffy.” Joyce said softly.



The Watcher snapped to attention when he caught the looks being exchange between his two visitors. “Buffy? Did something happened to her?” He asked, his gut twitching.



“Yes Rupes.” Slowly, cautiously, the pair started to tell the tale. Joyce picked up where Spike left off when he got choked up again. When they were done, Spike looked at the floor, unwilling to see the accusation in Giles’ eyes. He had come to respect the watcher a great deal during the last months, and he thought that this would prove to be the end of the budding relationship. Probably going to be the end of me too he thought. When the silence stretched on, he finally looked up to find Giles staring off.



Giles absentmindedly cleaned his glasses while he digested what had been said. His first reaction was anger, but something he had read in his Ripper days was gnawing at his mind. He hadn’t always been a Council man, and he still retained a wealthy dose of scepticism over what they deemed to be the truth.



Lost in his thoughts, Giles moved to one of his book laden shelves. He searched for the book he was looking for, and his fingers caressed the spines of each book in an automatic and loving way. He finally found the object of his search and he opened up the dusty tome that had been hidden in the back of the shelf. Thumbing through, he stopped when he reached the passage he was looking for. He read, still oblivious to the two people who were watching him. “Ah yes,” he said. The passage was just as he had remembered.



“Rupert? What is it?” Joyce asked, unable to stop the question from coming out. Giles started, the voice bringing him back to the room and it’s anxious occupants.



“It seems that turned slayers always retain their souls. They usually wake up fast, and they are disoriented upon wakening. They often stake their Sire before killing themselves, unable to cope with the turning.”



“But she asked me to turn her Rupes.” Spike felt obligated to speak out for himself. He sure hoped the slayer didn’t stake him before staking herself. He wanted to teach her and be with her for a long time. He would be a good Sire, making sure she understood what she was. If it would help her, he would even called Peaches to help her with the soul. His thought were suddenly interrupted when he suddenly asked, “How soon do they wake up?”



“A few hours at best. When did you left Buffy?” Giles asked, his mind trying to decide the best course of actions.



“We should still have some time. Wait a minute,” Spike interrupted himself with another thought he vocalized, “I read something once, about turned slayers. It’s not because of the soul that they are rarely turned. It’s because sometimes the turning doesn’t work like it should. Something about the slayer essence messes with the process. God, what have I done?”



“What do you mean Spike?”



“There are legends about turned slayers who came back wrong. Mindless slayers and ultra powerful ones who destroyed everything demonic around them before letting themselves die. I don’t know how much is true. I’ve never seen it, but Darla used to talk about it when I was a fledge. Maybe we should call Peaches?” The fact that Spike was the one to propose it left the others speechless. Spike was anything if not vocal on his hatred for his own Sire. That he was now proposing to call him as a testament to his worry.



“Let’s wait on that a bit. I have another idea,” Giles answered. He headed to the phone and called Anya. In the last few months, his admiration of the ex-demon had grown. While working at the shop he had discovered that she was quite knowledgeable about all things demony, something that should have occurred to him earlier. A thousand years as a vengeance demon was bound to have left her with a lot of knowledge. As he listened to her answers to his questions, his eyes grew wide. Shocked, he thanked Anya for her help and lowered the phone back.



Turning back to face Joyce and Spike, Giles cleaned his glasses again. His mind was still trying to absorb what Anya had said.



“It seems that the effect of a turning varies a lot for every slayer. In extreme cases, they become a Pure Slayer. In other cases, they were nothing more than a fledgling, with no residue of what they were before. Anya thinks that because of Buffy’s peculiar … history, the results may surprise us. I think Spike needs to be by her side when she wakes up. I have no idea of what she will be like. I will call Willow up and ask her to meet me at the Magic Box. I have several orbs of Thessulah that I keep for emergencies. We will prepare the ensouling spell in case Buffy didn’t retain hers. Joyce, why don’t you come with me?”



Spike’s head snapped up before Joyce or Giles could move. He felt something click inside himself. His childe was awake, and she was alone. “I have to go!”

Spike ran so fast that by the time he made it back to the crypt he wasn’t sure how he would manage to stop. The scene that welcomed him however stopped him dead in his tracks.



Buffy sat on Spike’s sofa, curled up in one of his blankets. She faced a television that was dark, and she seemed to be completely immobile.



Spike stood there, with the ladder just behind him, trying to decide what he should do when she spoke.



“Spike.” It was only one word but it managed to reassure Spike that Buffy kept some of who she was. She knew who he was. So, she wasn’t a mindless slayer or a stupid fledge. The fact that she was so still came as both a reassurance and a factor of terror. A fledge should not be able to be so still. The bloodlust should make her a raging animal, her only goal to feed. This current stillness was one that was previously unknown for Buffy. The fact that she was sitting there, her heartbeat calm and steady, and her breaths even was worrying. Wait, heartbeat? And she is breathing naturally…



Spike’s thoughts were broken by Buffy’s voice. “Come on Spike, I know you’re there.” Cautiously he took a few steps forward, and with a deep breath he walked around the couch to face her. His gasp of surprise had her looking up to him.



They looked at each other for several long minutes before Spike crouched in front of Buffy. He reached a hand and cupped her face. He felt her stiffen but when she didn’t say anything, he allowed his fingers to trace her features. He finally looked into her eyes and let out a breath

“Luv, your eyes, they’re gorgeous.” He said, awed.

“What happened Spike? Everything is different. I… I have a heartbeat, and a reflection. I thought you turned me.” Her voice was very quiet.

“I did luv but I was talking with the watcher and apparently turnings don’t go well with slayers. You’re not a vamp, you’re….something else. But your face, and your eyes. Is there anything else?”

She nodded shyly, a bit scared to share everything with him. Strangely enough, she never questioned why it seemed so natural to be talking like this with him.

“Everything is sharper, my smell, my slayer sense. My vision. You look different.”

“Different? How?” he asked, unconsciously drawing her in his arms.

“There’s this silver glow to everything. And you, you shine Spike. And you’re sending my tinglies into hyperdrive.”

“Might be your version of the demon. Way I figure it, you’re not a vamp because you’re some kind of UberSlayer luv. I don’t know Slayer, I’ve never seen anything like this. But the Watcher will find the answers, don’t you worry.”

They stay quiet for a while, simply holding each other, the position completely natural for the both of them. When Buffy looked up again, there was fear in her eyes.

“What will I do Spike? Am I dangerous? Can I go out in the sun? Will I want to snack on my friends?” Tears started falling down her face and with a gentle laugh, Spike brushed them off.

“You’ll be alright Slayer. Spike’s here, I’ll take care of you. Mum, and the Nibblet and your watcher, they already know what happened. Everything will be alright, I promise.”

“You told them? What did they say?” She was starting to panic and Spike rushed to reassure her.

“Nibblet’s a bit angry, but it’s me she’s pissed at, not you, as for your mum and Rupes, they’re not exactly happy with me, but they still love you. When I left, they were cracking the books open.” The pair stayed silent for several minutes before Buffy spoke again, her voice low in the still crypt.

“I’m so lost. Everything went to hell last night and nothing is right anymore.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could have gotten there sooner.” He answered, cursing himself.

“I called for you.” The softly spoken words had him reeling.

“What? What do you mean?”

“When I realized….I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, but I was calling for you. I knew you could have stopped them. I don’t know why but I knew it. I was coming to see you.” She said, the switch in subjects confusing Spike.

“Wait…say that again?”

“Yesterday, I was coming to see you. I was bored and I needed something to cheer me up. I was on my way here.”

“You were?” He asked, befuddled.

“I wanted a good shouting match.” He had to laugh at that. These days, it was the only kind of fighting they did. Except the side by side, us against them kind. He truly liked fighting with her, either by her side or against her. She was a sight to behold, that was for sure.



Spike was about to respond when they felt the human coming toward the crypt. Both bodies stiffen, ready to fight. Spike knew he didn’t have a chance against a human, the sodding chip made sure of that, but until he knew what was going on with Buffy, he would stay alert at all times. He would make sure nothing else happened to her.

They got the smell instants before the timid knock on the door and they both relaxed when they recognized Giles.

They looked at each other and when Buffy nodded, Spike called out

“Come on in Watcher!”

The door opened, Giles carefully putting himself between the harmful rays of the sun that shone outside and the occupants of the crypt. Until he knew exactly what was happening to his slayer, he wasn’t taking any chances.

A bit uneasy, Giles looked up at Buffy and hesitantly took a step forward.

Slayer and Watcher looked at each other for several long seconds before Buffy broke the silence.

“Hi Giles.” Releasing the air that he had unconsciously been holding, Giles stepped further into the crypt and, his voice unsteady asked

“How are you Buffy?”

Spike’s snort was echoed by Buffy’s chuckle.

“Well, I should be dead but I’m not, I have no fricking idea what is happening to me and my watcher is scared of me. How should I feel?” her dry tone and raised eyebrow had Giles further relaxing. It sounded like Buffy, not like a mindless vamp, maybe things would be alright after all. However, the tension returned with a vengeance once he got a good look at her new appearance. His shoulders stiffened and his handkerchief got out of his pockets as he cleaned his glasses. The classic Giles’ move had Buffy snorting.

The discussion had been a short one. Giles had asked questions, given some answers and promised to look for more information before leaving to go back to the Magic Box.

The crypt was now quiet, the pair sitting in the darkness, Buffy on the couch and Spike slouched on the chair. Both knew that there were a lot of things that needed to be said but neither wanted to speak up first. Hoping to break the silence that was getting a bit too heavy for his peace of mind, Spike got to his feet and taking his lighter out of his pocket, he started toward the candles that were scattered around the place. He was stopped by Buffy’s voice.

“Spike? Can we stay in the dark please?” Her voice was very small, reminding him of a lost little girl.

“Of course, not like I don’t see anyway. Do you need anything pet? I have some blood and some whiskey. I think I still have some weetabix too but I don’t have anything to eat with it, sorry Or I could…” He was interrupted mid sentence.

“Could… never mind.”

“You can ask anything Slayer.”

“Would you sit with me Spike? Please?” The tone was pleading and it broke something inside of him. It had been a long time since he had heard her with that particular voice, and never before had it been directed at him. Taking a deep breath, he walked up to her.

“Course I can sweetheart.” He sat down beside her, carefully giving her space if she needed it. He was surprised when she moved closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. Automatically, his arm went around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you kitten. Is this better then?”

“Yes… and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel Spike. I feel…empty I guess but there’s something inside, like I’m not alone anymore. I’m so confused. It feels like I’m going crazy. I’m so tired. And I can’t stand the thought of going to bed. I’m scared of falling asleep, scared of waking up. I’m terrified of what will be in my dreams, terrified of what won’t. I can’t do this Spike, I just can’t.” Steady tears silently trailed down her face, the harsh sobs trapped deep inside of her.

His insides clenching in repressed anger, Spike softly threaded his fingers through the soft golden hair.

“It’s going to be alright pet. You’re not alone. Your mom and the Bit are there.” She shuddered at his words.

“I-I can’t go home, please, don’t make me go home! I can’t go home, please Spike, please!” Her tone was so desperate that he had to swallow past the lump in his throat. He cursed himself. He knew what she was feeling. Hell, he had been there himself but she had a gentle soul, despite the fact that she was a warrior, and her reactions were not what his had been. Hoping to calm her down, he tightened his hold on her.

“Shhh Slayer, you’re welcome here for as long as you want. And I swear to you, I’ll be by your side for as long as you want me to. You’re my childe pet, and despite the fact that you’re not exactly a vamp, I’ll do anything to help you. I stayed over a hundred years with my Sire, what makes you think I wouldn’t do the same and more for my childe? Can’t you feel that I’ll do what’s best for you Buffy?”

Buffy’s shoulders relaxed, her hold on him lessened as the panic left her body. A soft sob escaped her and she tucked her head in his shoulder, molding her body closer to his.

“I… I don,t know what I feel Spike. There’s too much feelings, too many smells, too many sounds. It feels like I was turned inside out and I can’t focus on anything. My heartbeat is driving me crazy, it’s like sitting on a sledgehammer.” The comparison had Spike smiling.

“That’s because it’s too fast sweetheart. Did your Watcher ever teach you breathing exercises? Come on luv, deep breath in, hold it, breath out. It’ll help. Concentrate on slowing it down.” As Buffy’s breathing evened out, Spike could hear her heartbeat slowing until it was finally back to her normal rate.

“That’s it kitten. Feel better now?” He asked, resuming his fingers’ slow journey through her hair. He felt more than saw her nod.

“See? You can do this.” The small humourless laugh that answered him had him raising a scarred eyebrow.

“I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out luv. I’m not leaving.” The answer was automatic and the answer would have brought Spike to the floor hadn’t he been sitting down.

“Thank you Sire.”

Strucked speechless, Spike finally managed to find his voice again when he felt Buffy yawn.

“You’re welcome Childe. Now, let’s get you in bed.” Buffy’s arms tightened around him.

“I can’t go to sleep Spike.” He was about to answer her when he realized that as exhausted as she was, Buffy was terrified of the nightmares sleep would bring. Knowing he was in for a sleepless day, he got to his feet, still holding Buffy in his arms.

“Come on Slayer, you need sleep, and I need to lay down. I’ll stay with you.”

A sigh of relief escaped Buffy. She wouldn’t have to ask Spike to stay with her and she wouldn’t have to be alone. Somehow, she had no doubt that he would protect her should anything happen. Hell, he had been doing it before last night anyway, and she didn’t need his reminder that he hadn’t left Drusilla until his Sire had pushed him away. Buffy knew that he was taking his position as her Sire seriously and that she could count on him.

Spike dropped down to the lower level of the crypt, and headed toward the bed. He gently lowered Buffy down, and discarded his duster before removing his t-shirt. He hesitated a few seconds before Buffy spoke up

“Will you hold me?” Silently, Spike lifted the blankets and once he was settled on the bed, opened his arms. Buffy instantly scooted closer to him, her head settling on the curve of his shoulder and threw her leg over one of his.

Somehow, she could feel that the sun had gone down a few hours ago. The presence inside of her that had been quiet earlier was now chomping, requesting something Buffy couldn’t identified. Instead of trying to put a name on the urge, she decided that she’d better focus on more pressing matter.

Namely the vampire who was holding her.

Her sleep had surprisingly been peaceful, something she was pretty sure she could thank Spike for. She’d been so sure nightmares would prevent her from any sleep that she had been reluctant to even lay down. But Spike’s presence had kept the dreams away and she felt more rested than she had thought possible. Somehow knowing he was still deeply asleep, she raised her head and looked at the vampire who was now her Sire. She’d known for a while now that he was gorgeous, but had never really taken the time to observe him. The vampire that was usually always moving was now completely still, his chest moving in an occasional breath. She swept her eyes over him, taking in the defined cheekbones, dark and expressive eyebrows and the mouth that so often got him in trouble. She didn’t need to look at his well defined chest, or muscular arms to know that the rest of him was as spectacular as his face. She’d felt him often enough in combat. If she was honest, she’d had more than one dream starring the blond menace. But the one thing that held her fascination was the well of feelings that his face held, even in slumber. Even in his sleep, Spike was more alive than anyone she knew.

She’d seen something in his eyes today. Something that was more than concern, more than the protective feelings Spike undoubtedly had for his new Childe. It was something that she had seen increasingly often and that she had forced herself to deny. Until she’d been laying on the cemetery ground, her life slowing draining away. She remembered that the one thought that had dominated was him. How crushed he would be if she died. She remembered clearly crying out for him, remembered granting him permission to turn her and the pain that had been so present in his eyes. He hadn’t realized it but Spike had been in game face the whole time and the golden eyes of his demon had been stricken and as expressive as his blue eyes always were.

Spike had feelings for her. She wasn’t sure how deep they were, but they were real and, finally leaving Egypt behind, Buffy acknowledged that her own feelings were far from hatred. When had her feelings stopped being hatred to become something softer, Buffy didn’t know, but somewhere along the way, she’d started trusting him. She had no doubt that his promise to stay with her went beyond the Sire/Childe thing, and that the bond that had been forged through years of battle, either as enemies or as reluctant allies was now an unbreakable one, one that would sustain them through anything that would come at them.

In a rare moment of clarity, Buffy realized that she was halfway in love with Spike. That she desperately wanted to have a shot at a relationship with him, one that went beyond the Sire/Childe one. But just as she realized that she was willing to see if they could do something between them, Buffy realized the obstacles that could prevent them from it.

The Scoobies.

She’d been afraid to see how Giles would react to her new state and she had to admit that she was relieved when he had shown acceptance. She wasn’t so sure how the others would react. Spike had told her that her mother and sister knew and that her mother was okay with everything. In a sudden burst of intuition, Buffy knew that Dawn’s issue was more the fear of Buffy’s reaction than a genuine objection. She knew that her sister loved Spike, and she suspected that Dawn was afraid oh how Buffy would treat him. Well, if I have my say, everything will be just fine. But Xander and Willow presented a real problem, especially Xander.

Willow would probable accept them in the end, but Xander? He was the real unknown. His feelings for Spike were no secrets and even thought they had reached a certain level of companionship, Buffy was afraid her friend wouldn’t be able to deal. Xander would have problem with Spike turning her and even if the result was not exactly the one she had expected, the end result was the same. Technically, Spike had killed her. The fact that she had granted him permission or that he had only finished the job and was no where near responsible for what had happen would mean nothing to Xander. No, her friend would go absolutely berserk and she had to make sure Spike didn’t bore the brunt of the reactions. This had been her decision, and she was standing by it. She knew without the shadow of a doubt that had she not agreed, Spike never would have bitten her. Now, it was time for her to face the consequences of her decision. The fact that she was not ready to see them never entered her mind. Her protective feelings about her Sire were in overdrive and she wouldn’t let anything hurt him.

With that thought in mind, Buffy got to her feet and walked toward the opened drawer that obviously contained Spike’s clothing. She rummaged around until she found a pair of sweats that had a drawstring at the waist. They were a bit long but she couldn’t afford to be difficult. She took Dawn’s hairbrush and quickly tied her hair back. She bypassed the mirror, not willing to see the changes in her appearance. Turning back to the sleeping vampire she stood there, trying to decide if she should wake him up.

Finally spotting a piece of paper and a pen on the bedside table, she quickly jotted down a few words and leaving the notes where Spike could see it when he opened his eyes, she climbed the ladder and exited the crypt. Time to face the music.

The walk to the Magic Box was a short one, made quicker by Buffy’s enhanced speed. Too soon for her taste, she was standing in front of the shop’s door. She really didn’t want to go in there.